A long time ago, the Elvorix were ruled by the Vidaar Kings. The Elvorix built the cities, farmed the land, and wrote the scrolls. The Vidaar ate the food, burned the scrolls, and polished their swords. Finally grown weary of this arrangement, one rather bright Elvorix tricked the Vidaar into sailing west in search of a mythical island filled with gold and riverberries. The Elvorix felt rather clever, until an incredibly grumpy fleet of Vidaar sailed in on the eastern shore three hundred years later. Apparently fifteen generations of inbreeding, poor on-board entertainment, and the distinct absence of a mythical island filled with gold and riverberries had soured them on their erstwhile kin. It's been centuries now, and the Vidaar haven't gotten over it, and swear they won't until the last Elvorix is cold Kuld chow and their rightful place as kings of Agaptus is restored.