Astolat has lived a very testing life that marks her personality greatly. She is loyal to her Lothrin Gods and believes in many superstitions, along with the belief that she was born unlucky and this bad luck was the cause of her bizarre life leaving her bitter. She finds it hard to muster patience when needed and gets irritated easily, despite this, Asotlat has a good and compassionate heart that she doesn't like revealing openly for fear of it being exploited.

Astolat was never really of Caenir, but the day the Caenirians stole her from the shores of Lothrin, they had assembled her forcefully into their ranks without word or thought to how she might feel. Astolat of Lothrin was gentle, kind and quiet most of the time. She believed that one should eat well, sleep well and live well within their means, not trouble others if they could help it and do the best they could given the situation they were in. She believed in superstitions and prayed to the Lothrin deities, Lon and Lilianir, for peaceful days and plentiful grazing. Lothrin was a beautiful place edged by daunting cliffs and sweeping hills, there were lakes and green grass, vibrant forests and fresh weather. Astolat adored her home and missed it fiercely when the Caenirian Empire pilched her from it's shores and bundled her across the sea to work on their projects.

Boats, walls, weapons and lavish statues. They had stolen her from blissful Lothrin only to have her work on such crude things, selfish things. Caenir was a selfish Empire run by the two-legged beasts called humans. Unlike Lothrin, which had so far managed to remain out of Caenir's plagued reach. Of all of Dalianir, Astolat least wished to visit Caenir, but the sod's law of Astolat's life would never answer her prayers, no matter how much she begged Lon and Lilianir for mercy. It was this fact that the Caenirians never knew, that Astolat was unlucky, everything she did always went wrong in some way. Anyone who touched her life was bound to meet trouble from doing so, it was why she was so superstitious, why she prayed every day and why she had tried to keep herself to herself.

They had soon found out, however, when bricks from walls seemingly grew life of their own and fell on a workers head, killing him in the process. If it was guarding the harbour, cleaning the statues, mending decks of boats or simply conversing Astolat had a kind of luck nobody wanted. Perhaps it wasn't her, maybe that day or the other it was someone else's bad luck, but the mare was always blamed and one day they sent Astolat and a few others on an excursion at sea.

The crew she was with were ill at ease with her on board, wondering when the storm would come, or a rock to puncture a hole in the boat and they all went down—because of that unlucky mare. However, Astolat knew she would not be returning from this expedition of exile. The crew were charged with the task of finding the nearest non-Dalian island and leaving the mare on it, far far away from Caenir... and Lothrin.

For a while, Astolat went through a series of emotions. She cheered for finally she was free of Caenir's chains, but she wept also because she now belonged nowhere. This wasn't Caenir or Lothrin, it wasn't even Dalianir. What did she do now? Where did she go? Astolat walked until she came across a forest full of scents and what looked like the beginnings of another realm.