## Ast Siltun "Planedoors": The Weighted Archer

**Not just a militia commander.** Ast Siltun, burdened by the resonant nickname "Planedoors," stands as a fortress pillar – a Legendary Marksdwarf whose bolts have felled cave ogres and the infamous goblin Stozu Monstrousshade. But beneath the yak leather buckler and cuttlefish leather armor beats the heart of a deeply conflicted soul, yearning for horizons her duty chains her from.

### The Mortar of Her Being
*   **Physically:** A short, broad pillar of burnt umber skin, made sturdier by layers of protective fat. Her face is a landscape of contradictions: an incredibly concave nose bridge, high cheekbones, a prominent chin, and an upturned nose, crowned by clean-shaven gray hair flecked with cinnamon. Bronze eyes hold a weary vigilance. She heals slowly, a testament to battles endured.
*   **Gear:** Practicality defines her. Pig tail and cave spider silk garments, mismatched socks and shoes, her trusted iron crossbow and quiver of x-pine bolts. The cuttlefish leather armor speaks of resourcefulness, the alpaca leather helm a necessary burden. Peach cider is her constant liquid companion.
*   **Skills:** A living legend in dodging arrows and returning them with lethal precision (Legendary Marksdwarf, Legendary Dodger). Rusty with a shield, competent in armor, and possessing the Novice Discipline needed to command. Beyond war, she's a Legendary handler of beasts (Animal Caretaker, Dissector, Trapper), with dabbling hands in crafts from carpentry to engraving.

### The Cracks in the Stone
Ast's true depth lies in her psyche, meticulously recorded in her thoughts and needs:
*   **The Haunted Veteran:** The death of Stozu Monstrousshade *horrified* her, a stark contrast to feeling *nothing* during conflict itself. Trauma leaves her afraid. She carries the weight of kills.
*   **The Restless Spirit:** Her soul chafes against fortress walls. She *needs* to wander, to think abstractly, to pray to her deity Tholtig. Denied these ("Unmet need: Wander," "distracted after being unable to pray"), she becomes unfocused and uneasy. Boredom from an "unexciting life" is a constant threat.
*   **The Yearning Intellectual:** Despite her culture's disdain for knowledge pursuit, she *craves* intellectual discussion (exhilarated by it), reads essays and poems ("The Trenches, My Love," "Doubts About the Wounding"), and values ideas over practicalities. This internal conflict is palpable.
*   **The Social Anchor:** Family (husband Kûbuk the Metalsmith, 9 children) and friends are vital ("Unmet need: Be with family/friends"). Fondness blooms in conversation, delight in performances. Yet, prolonged absence from friends leaves her unfocused.
*   **The Liquid Crutch:** "She needs alcohol to get through the working day." Euphoria found in cider is a frequent escape from her burdens and unmet needs. It makes her "unfettered," a temporary freedom.
*   **Contradictory Values:** She embodies dwarven ideals – respecting law, loyalty, family, craftsdwarfship, martial prowess. Yet *personally*, she values peace over war, scorns the pursuit of knowledge (even while craving it), and resents those who wield power. She dreams of mastering a skill, yet commands the militia.

### The Portrait
Imagine Ast standing on the parapet at dusk:
> The setting sun catches the flecks of cinnamon in her shorn, gray hair. Her broad frame, armored in iridescent cuttlefish leather, seems part of the fortress wall itself. Bronze eyes scan the Dimpled Steppes, not just for threats, but for the paths she cannot walk. A calloused hand absently pats the peach cider flask at her hip – tomorrow's necessary fuel. The ghost of Stozu Monstrousshade flickers at the edge of her vision, countered by the remembered warmth of Kûbuk's forge and the delighted chaos of her children. She recites a fragment of "The Sun Sets on Affection" under her breath, a secret rebellion against the practical world she protects. She is Ast Siltun "Planedoors": a fortress in herself, legendary, indispensable, yet forever straining against the hinges of her own existence, dreaming of the worlds beyond doors she cannot open.

**In essence:** Ast is the quintessential Dwarf Fortress paradox. A peerless warrior yearning for peace, a dutiful commander needing to wander, an intellectual spirit in a culture that dismisses it, a social creature anchored by solitude, sustained by drink, and haunted by the very violence she masters. Her nickname, "Planedoors," speaks not of grandeur she possesses, but of the vast, inaccessible realms her soul desires. She is strength intertwined with profound, slow-healing vulnerability.