Soot

Balerion, known far more commonly as Soot, is a Red Priest of R'hllor currently based in Westeros. Charged with aiding the red god faithfuls in the country by the High Priest of Volantis himself, Soot has been in King's Landing for nearly a decade, working on behalf of his god.

Appearance and Character
A man of the Summer Isles, Soot is dark skinned and tall. His clothes can often be described as worn and battered, but they are still meticulously taken care of and often patched and mended several times.

An amiable man, Soot boasts a quiet faith in his god and his religion, one that he seeks to impart by deed, not merely word. His days as a mercenary are not so far behind him that he has forgotten the usefulness of discipline and focus, and he still trains almost daily with his blade.

In addition to his small apothecary shop, which he more rents than owns in truth, Soot owns a pet lemur named Azantys. His blade, which he named Ironbrand, is the last of his possessions.

The Summer Years (371- 379)
The man known as Soot began life under a different name, in a place far different from any other. His early years were gilded days, idyllic and perfect if but fleeting in his memory. When questioned, Soot oft refers to them as his Summer Years - for they existed as a time apart, full of warmth, and joy, and love.

Then, in 381AC, they came to an end. A daring band of corsairs descended upon the coast of their island in the dead of night, attacking several villages and carrying off slaves and gold. A young Soot - called in those days by a name he no longer knows - watched as his village burned, men and women he knew as kin; brothers, sisters, and all the rest, put to the sword or dragged into bondage. Soot himself was taken, thrown into the black underbelly of one of the corsair’s ships. The last he saw of the Summer Isles was a brief glimpse in the dark - as flames licked the air and smoke billowed into a starry sky.

Slave Ship (379-383)
After that day, the next few years were a blur of suffering and hardship. One by one his fellow Summer Islanders were sold or slain or broken, Soot himself passing from hand to hand until he could not remember how many masters he had known. He saw many ports in those days, mostly in the Stepstones and the Basilisk Isles, growing strong and wiry with his constant work at the oars. Fighting, too, grew to become a major part of his life; as he fought for food, for water, for posting, for entertainment, for life. Time and time again he scrabbled in the dark with unseen foes, until he learned to sleep lightly, one hand wrapped around the hilt of a blade.

Relief came unexpectedly, some gloomy day at harbour in 383AC. Whilst his master haggled prices with a green-bearded Tyroshi, their voices went from cajoling to challenging to threatening. All at once there was a shout, then the clash of steel on steel - fighting erupting between the two corsair crews. Soot watched with wide eyes as men who abused him for years were cut down in the fighting -- alongside slaves whose only misfortune was belonging to the wrong ship. Seeing now what lay before him - death certain, or death unknown - the boy who would become Soot took his chances with the sea. In the madness of the fighting no one watched him leap from the rails, crashing into the waves below with a giddy rush of adrenaline, surprise, and fear.

When he surfaced, his hands still bound in iron manacles connected by a long, rusted chain, Soot watched as the slave ship that had borne him for months began to smoke and flame. Shouts from the deck grew more fervent and more desperate - until slowly they ended, one by one, each voice falling silent forever. The ship took light, and for the second time in his young life, Soot watched as fire consumed all he had known.

Fester and the Underbelly (383 - 388)
It was a short swim to the mainland, but that would prove the easiest part of the next chapter of Soot’s young life. He emerged upon the shores of Tyrosh half-starving, nearly naked, chained at the wrists and with only a fledgling knowledge of the language. The next few weeks were hard - harder even than life upon a slave ship. He fought, stole, and struggled, forever on the very precipice of disaster. Days were filled with the hunt, every moment spent staving off the hunger pangs that clawed at his stomach, whilst nights were spent in fretful sleep, or else occupied with his attempts to break his bonds. Stone after stone shattered against the rusted chain, until at last it broke beneath his grip one moonless night nearly a month after his arrival.

From then on his situation improved, though only marginally. Finding food became easier, and thus he got bolder - turning pickpocket and upper-storyman for the larger, more organized gangs that roamed the streets. In late 384, an attempt at the former went south - the trio of bravos he attempted to rob spotting him before he could cut their purse. They chased him through the streets, blades drawn and dancing in the light. More than once they nearly had him, blooding their swords with daring thrusts or long, sharp slides - but Soot escaped, wounded and carved, but alive, and somewhat richer. The gang he had stolen for were pleased with his success - so pleased they took the gold, and left him to die.

Bleeding from a half dozen small wounds and one large, angry one, it seemed only a matter of time before the blood loss or infection took him. Like any wounded animal, Soot sought out a quiet place to meet his end - only to find himself bleeding in the back alley of an apothecary, who looked at him with unhidden disdain."“What’s your name, boy?” The man asked of him then. ""“I don’t know.” Was his only reply. ""“How about Fester?” Was the the stranger’s answer, muddled and twisted by his strong accent and slightly slurred tongue. He leveled a twisted finger towards the worst of the boy’s injuries. “Because that’s what that will do, if you don’t have it looked at. Did you quarrel with the watch, boy?”""The Bravos.” Soot returned."The man cursed, then spat, little love lost between him and the swaggering Braavosi warriors. He offered the bleeding boy a hand, helping him to his feet - before bringing him into the shop that he owned, to see to his various wounds.

So began the relationship between Soot and the Apothecary, an old man named Mimir, so prone to mumbling he was oft called Murmur. In many ways they served each other, improving one another’s lives in numerous ways. Mimir healed him, fed him, and gave him a place to sleep - in exchange Soot learned his craft, and  aided him wherever possible. Each filled a void in the other’s life that thus far had been empty; one as father, one as a son, but better yet - as friends.

It was Mimir who first gave him a name, remarking that Fester was no proper thing to call a boy. They talked it over for many nights, trying out several before at last settling upon one. Balerion of Koj, they decided - part after the great black dragon that had once conquered the Sunset Kingdoms, and part for the island that, as best he could guess, Soot had been born upon. The years passed, and Soot grew older and stronger both. He learned the way of the apothecary, and the basics of the sword, but additionally Mimir taught him of faith; of the Red God, and the Great Other. Thus far fire had only heralded the ending of things in Soot's eyes. With Mimir's help, he learned to see it instead as a beginning.

The Hall of the Red God (388-398)
By 388AC, Balerion of Koj - a man grown - departed from the Apothecary at the behest of his master, sent to join the faithful in the city of Volantis. There he submitted himself to the command of the High Priest, serving the Fiery Hand and learning from them the way of the sword. Balerion spent years in their tutelage, and it was during this time that he learned the way -- the way of fire and shadow, of ember and smoke, of R'hllor, the Bright, the Evershining. Committing himself fully to the Red God and his mission, Balerion became known as Soot among the people of the temple. For when the fires burnt out; Soot remained.

Dragonbinder, Dragonfinder (398)
Ten years later, rumours reached the High Priest of a stolen dragon egg, somewhere in the Stepstones. Such rumours were unlikely to be true, of course, but no man of Red God could forget the item they had in their possession - Dragonbinder, still unused, still waiting for the right voice to sound its dreadful call. The High Priest was determined to find the truth of these rumours, and so began to prepare a party to go forth and bring back word. Soot was chosen for several reasons - his familiarity with ships would serve to help him blend in with the pirates of the Stepstones, and his unquestioning devotion but lack of any identifying tattoos also proved a rare and invaluable asset. Without the scarlet marks of the Fiery Hand, he could easily pass for a common mercenary. Thus, in 398AC, the High Priest charged him to enter the Stepstones and find out the truth of the Three Thieves.

Mercenary Faith (399-402)
The first step for Soot was to integrate himself with the Stepstones pirates, and so he and his companions became swords for hire - masquerading as common mercenaries and slowly working their way into the ranks of the nefarious and vile. Soot's education in battle and combat were honed in the crucibles of experience, dozens of narrow victories and countless harsh defeats making him into a master of small-scale warfare. In time the band managed to gain a contract with the Three Thieves themselves, and it was then that Soot learned at last the truth -- the rumours were indeed real. There was a dragon in the Stepstones, unbound to any Targaryen rider.

At once he sent word back to Volantis, informing the High Priest of his findings. In return the Temple sent him none other than the woman named Ash, with instructions that he was to aid her infiltration of the inner courts of the Stepstones however possible. Reluctant, but obedient, Soot did as commanded - and when the armies of Westeros closed upon Grey Gallows, he helped to spirit her away from the crumbling castle of the SIlverband, returning to Volantis in failure.

Exiled with Distinction (402-407)
His defeat in the Stepstones disappointed the pious Red Priest, whose years beneath the Fiery Hand now seemed for naught. How long had he trained, and waited, and prayed, only to fail in the final moments of his quest?

In the end his sense of failure proved too much, and with the blessings of the High Priest of Volantis, Soot departed once more west. He landed in Weeping Town, just as the Scarlet Winter began to take hold; and spent the next three years traveling from coast to coast, meeting with the pockets of faithfuls who lived in major towns and cities across the continent. His travels changed the aging Red Priest, the harshness of winter and the resilience of his people softening edges that had been forged by a hard life. By the time of his return to King's Landing in 405AC, the man known as Soot had found himself at peace - for the first time, mayhaps, in his life.