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When the Bringers of Silence carved their way across Arvum, they left ruin in their wake. Astyr is a refugee, holding and people lost, who knelt and found refuge in the Compact. In the years since Brand's advance, Astyr has shaped herself into the image of a proper Prodigal. She could pass among the citizens of Arx unnoticed, without tattoo or piercing, and has worked to tame even her accent. She's passed through the great cities and holdings of the north, through the Oathlands and the Crownlands. She respects the stability of the Compact, that it endures even in times of chaos -- that it even prospers. She could use some of that.

The brightness of Astyr's smile disarms as skillfully as a swordman's parry; the warmth of her voice is a riposte that strikes clean. She has a warm and effortless manner, and if at times she gives herself airs, she catches herself, and pulls herself back from the edge of arrogance. She's lovely, but it's the enthusiasm and the determination that light her features that make her beautiful. It's rare that shadows cloud her features, but when they do, her sorrow is profoundly felt. She's a creature of passions, but she's careful to cultivate the right ones.

Astyr has a great deal of respect for force magnifiers. It could be a lever to move a stone, an offer to move the markets, or a word to move a kingdom. She is keenly aware of how quickly circumstances can change, and how hard it can be to rebuild what was once destroyed. She has seen ruin and it has left her fiercely determined to build, to craft a wall of silver and secrets and with it shield her and hers.