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Description

Finally! My app is all done, viola! The writing was the first thing done, of course, but twas edited many a time and even extended here and there as I brainstormed further, read other Character Apps in , and just made sure it was as appropriate and high-quality as I could. The reason the portrait looks different from the full body is because it was commissioned from two different people, with two different art styles. They are, however, the same character, I assure you.

Main human image by Charles Tan , and sybal form and portrait by Me.

Also, Art-Zealot if Anjo (mentioned below in "History") seems at all familiar to you—Not. One. Word.

Name: Nicolau Ferreiro
Nicknames: Nico, Fierro, Kageros (alias for Sybal form)
Age: 69
Physical Age: 27
Height: 6’2
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Blue

Faction: Insurgent
Nicolau’s reasoning for siding with the Insurgence is simple, really; he misses his home, he furnace he’d built himself, his horse and dog, both of whom are long gone now. He also had a lover, as well—a beautiful young woman he believes to be dead. While during the day Nicolau seems more melancholy and homesick than anything, during the night, any thought of mention of his old life is more than likely to send him into a rage—that is not to say he won’t get mad in the daytime, however, it’s just worse at night. When Nicolau first heard about the Insurgence, he was reluctant to get involved in the conflict. But then one night, he got into a fight with a Disciple, prompting the raging sybal to immediately join and become Insurgent. While Nicolau was sheepish the next morning, he did not retract his choice. To this day, he seems neutral while the sun is up, but turn zealously Insurgent once it sets.

Occupation: Nicolau maintained the same occupation he had back home, which was being a Blacksmith. Having been known for exceptional metalwork, Nico didn’t dare let his skills suffer in this new world, even if he did want to go home. He uses his talents for whatever the peoples need of him—odds and ends, tools, even weapons. Nico doesn’t let the conflict affect his clientele; Disciple, Insurgent, Neutral, it does not matter to Nicolau—not as long as you pay, he is at your service.

Sybal Form: The Ragefire Dragon
Nicolau’s sybal form is the inhibited manifestation of his suppressed emotions and thoughts, and is him as he would be with no self-restraints. While still bipedal, and overall humanoid in stature, Nico’s sybal form is heavily draconic, but in an alien and otherworldly way. There are many sharp spikes along his body, including two on both sides of his face, and two sweeping off of his eye ridges. There are also sharp bony spikes on his shoulders and knees as well, though none of the spikes actually protrude from his body—his hide covers them all, not revealing the bone within.
A mysterious and powerful cyan energy flows through his body, manifesting in stark streaks through his hard hide—these streaks appear to steam and glow, and sizzle constantly, making others think they burn. If they do, however, then Nicolau shows no acknowledgement of it. With sharp claws on his hands and feet, thick, immense muscles, and great speed granted by his reverse-jointed legs, Nicolau’s Sybal Form is the purest herald of the mythical beast from his home that it resembles.

Sybal Power: Dragon’s Ryze
Nicolau’s sybal power is his ability to use ryze—the pure and undiluted power of dragons. With it, he can possess strength beyond his physical limitations, which is usually manifest in a bright cyan aura that envelops his body, shining and licking likes tongues of flame. He can also increase the size of the aura, turning it into a spectral suit that can make him seem larger than he really is. This takes much of his energy from him, however, and he does not use it unless absolutely necessary.

Docile or Feral: Feral
When Nicolau first came to Sybal Heim, he behaved rather docilely, and was documented as such. This would prove later to be rather strained, as Nico could be easily perturbed, impassioned, or angered, though he usually tries to keep myself reined in. This does not always work however, and at night, it does not work all. At night he is purely feral, revealing without restraint the true nature that he holds back, and the only time his sybal would act remotely docile is if the woman he loved back home were with him. But as she is not, this makes it near impossible for him to control himself as his sybal form were he to lose control.

Personality: Nicolau is a normally carefree, energetic and friendly person that most people get along fine with. He has the ability to make friends with several kinds of people—even people who argue, dislike, or hate each other would find that they share Nico as a mutual friend. He still disagrees with some people, as is normal, but he almost never mentions his own opinion for a personal detest of conflict.
Nicolau has a great love for creativity and art, always being found doing something creative of some kind: drawing, writing, smithing, leatherworking, even dancing or singing (though he claims his voice is terrible). Anything to get the limitless energy within spent so that he doesn’t burst at the seams (which people joke is what happened to his sybal). Nico is also very supportive of other people’s ingenuity as well, always supporting it wherever he found it, and regardless of its nature.
Nicolau has great detest for anything stuffy and bound by reality. Politics, government, mathematics—these are some examples of the things that bore Nico out of his mind and actually dampen his creative spirit. He avoids these as much as he can, preferring to immerse himself in fiction. This seems to be a strong influence on his sybal form, given that it is a dragon.
Charity, compassion, and mercy often rule his daytime actions. Nicolau is also known for his sheer kindness—akin to that of a dog, if he sees someone, anyone, crying or in pain, his first instinct is to stop by their side and offer his assistance. This is ironic given that he is loathe to ask for help himself, somehow thinking he is only bothering people with his own problems. While this is very much less so at night, even in sybal form, Nico is known for never abandoning his comrades, nor disobeying orders unless he had very good reason. His bullish stubbornness and devotion remain strong at all times, day or night, and this traits have endeared him to many a person in Sybal Heim. Nicolau is loyal to a fault and a fighter for what he believes, and who he loves.

Despite being a very outgoing, cheerful, and loud individual, Nicolau has a flip-side to his personality that often clashes with his seeming extroverted-ness. He can have sudden moments of anxiety or shyness, sometimes to debilitating levels where he cannot bring himself to do what he needs to, simply because the thought of doing it makes him exceedingly anxious. This confuses many people who know him because of his outgoing traits, and are surprised when he says no to a party, or to just hanging out. Unlike some people, Nicolau has a limit to his ability to interact with others; leading him to often require time alone to recharge.
Don’t let how sweet, thoughtful, and nice Nicolau is fool you, however. He can be very stubborn to the point of bull-headed, though he does try to keep an open mind and heart, he mostly keeps his habits. He also hates it when his routines are disturbed, and likes the comfort of repetition. Nicolau can also be infuriated by people telling him how to do something when he already knows how to do it, as well if they try to force him to do something he does not want to do. Nicolau also gets enraged when people he cares about are threatened or disrespected, getting protective in a very fiery way that matches his sybal. In fact, it is when in his sybal form that is rage physically manifests, his aura of ryze flaming erratically as he gradually loses his coherence. Needless to say, Nicolau’s calm, cheerful outward demeanor masks a deeply buried fire of rage, one that he struggles everyday—both in the Heim and when he was back home—to keep in check, so as not to harm others.

History: Nicolau was born in a Portuguese city along the coast—one of many whose shipyards stretched larger than the city itself. While most of the people of the city, of Portugal itself, were said to have saltwater in their veins, Nico did not show such inheritance. No, rather, steel and fire seemed to be in his, as he never did like sailing all that much, and preferred the feel of the earth beneath his feet. This made it hard for him as his family were seasoned seafarers, and had been sailing for generations. Nicolau’s father was displeased with his son’s indifference towards the sea, and for the duration of his adolescence, struggled to train him as a sailor.
Nico chafed under his father’s strict vision for his future, and every time he could, Nicolau would flee and find the nearest smithy. For a few years, he simply hid and watched the young woman of his favorite smithy shop work. The young boy could tell she didn’t get much work—most days he watched her, barely a person came to pay for her services. Most of the time she instead worked on her own projects, her arms strong and hands calloused as she crafted tools, horseshoes, nails, and even weapons day after day.
Eventually, the day came that the smith woman discovered Nicolau, and demanded why he watched her all the time, thinking he was some kind of spy sent by the sexist male smiths that attempted to ruin her work. Nicolau claimed no foul play, saying only that he wished he could learn to be a wonderful blacksmith like she was. Shocked by this compliment, the woman gave her name—Maria—and began to teach Nicolau what she knew.
Thus it was that this went on for years; Nicolau’s father would teach his son to be a sailor, the boy no longer fighting but instead using the strenuous work to tone his body and make smithing all the easier. Then Nico would run off whenever he was free to Maria’s smithy, assisting her and learning from her, quickly showing natural talent for anything involving metal and fire. Maria even began to let Nicolau take over ever so slightly, the two crafting a front that he was the hand behind the hammer, tricking the conservative clientele that refused a female smith into hiring Nicolau for his services, only to take home top-quality work that was formed instead by Maria.
Once Nicolau had gained a “reputation” of impeccable craftsmanship, and the talent to back it up, Maria gave him an invaluable hint. Up north, beyond Spain and the European continent, all the way on the Southern edge of Norway, lay a fjord-nestled city that could use a blacksmith of his caliber.
With a highly demanded profession, and a city to set up shop, Nicolau confessed to his family what he had been up to the past few years. At first, his father was furious at having been fooled. But as his son went on, the older man then realized that the metalwork one of his sailors had purchased a while ago—and that saved all of their lives at one point—had either been forged by Maria…or by his son. Realizing how foolish he’d been acting, and fairly noting Nicolau’s talent at blacksmithing, the burly sailor let go of his anger and praised his son’s skill. With the blessing of his family, extra coin and luggage along with their love, Nicolau chartered a boat and went north for the Norwegian city his mentor had recommended.
In a couple months of travel, Nicolau finally arrived at the city, only semi-deranged by the time trapped on sea.
Nico took his first step on the wooden dock of the city’s harbor, greeted by a portly, balding ginger-haired man in a suit. Somehow, Maria must’ve had connections to the very royalty themselves, for this man was nothing less than the Castle Steward. He was led by the man to an old smithy that hadn’t seen use in a few weeks, and needed plenty of tender love and care. With a private quarters in the back, Nicolau happily accepted the smithy, asking the Steward to send his thanks directly to the king.
Once the place was fixed up, the furnace thrown out and a brand new one fashioned, he was finally in business. It seemed to him that the city hadn’t had a decent blacksmith for a while, given that in no time, he was up to his ears in orders. It was many months before he’d worked his way to any free time whatsoever.
One evening, when Nicolau was resting on his bed, trying to ignore the aches after a long day of work, he heard a knock on his door. Greatly annoyed, he stormed out of his room, stomping down to the smithy and preparing to threaten someone with his favorite sword. But once he’d opened the door, instead of yet another customer, all Nicolau registered was an angel. With long, near-white blonde hair reigned back in an intricate braid, bright cerulean eyes that seemed to see straight through him, and pale skin that probably rarely saw the sun but looked achingly soft regardless, the young woman practically had Nicolau gaping.
It wasn’t until she spoke that he came out of his trance…and remembered he was only clad in trousers and boots. Ignoring that fact, he focused instead on what the woman said, listening as she introduced herself (though in his mind he was already calling her Anjo), and how she’d waited till Nico was free before she came to meet the city’s new blacksmith. He thanked her for her patience, and asked if she wanted to come inside out of the cold, given that it was winter at the time, and snow had long since claimed the city.
Once Nico had put on a shirt and got his furnace going just enough to warm the place, the pair sat near it and chatted amiably for hours on end. It was already beyond evident that they got along, and as the hour grew terribly late, Anjo was forced to leave, claiming that her father would be greatly upset if she stayed out too late. Saddened that she had to go, Nicolau reluctantly bid her farewell, voicing his hope for them to speak again. He was rewarded with a smile and a “Perhaps” before the elegant blonde returned home.
The next year found them growing closer and closer, until one day midway through, with a shock, Nicolau realized that it was very possible he might be in love with Anjo. Whether or not she reciprocated, however, scared him, and he nearly went through with the consideration of no longer seeing her. But an excruciating stomach ache always accompanied that thought, as did a pain in his heart, and that only affirmed his feelings to himself.
One night, when he and Anjo had planned on a horse ride up into the mountains, Nicolau promised himself he would confess his feelings and pray he wasn’t shut down. As it happened, the exact opposite occurred; Anjo revealed her plans to do just what Nico had done, and he had never known such joy. They shared their first kiss that night, and it was quite some time before either felt like parting, let alone going home.
The new couple had a blissful half-a-year to enjoy together before everything went to frozen hell.
It began near the end of fall, when one immense, powerful storm decided to ravage through the northern reaches of the European continent. Its strength was legendary, forcing hundreds of thousands of people to shore up their homes and take shelter, with their only choice being to wait it out. The storm’s wrath was terrible to be sure, and once it was done and over, each of the countries recovered in their own ways.
In Norway, things were not at all well.
The storm had been so bad for them, many were forced to take shelter in the stronger buildings, especially in the city where Nicolau lived. Anjo had actually come to him before the storm’s worst had struck, and together they took shelter in a strong, stone-hewn building that stood in defiance to the elements. That did not completely reassure its refugees, however, whom all huddled with fear—the two lovers themselves cuddling especially close, whispering quiet assurances to the other. When the storm was finally over, the citizens emerged from their protection to find their city still whole, but sorely damaged.
In fact, Nicolau’s smithy was completely and utterly gone—the building appeared to have either been struck by lightning, or the furnace had somehow let loose its flames, which Nico had actually been unable to put out before he was forced to leave. Either way, his means of work was gone, and for a smith, that was a terrible thing indeed. Matters were made worse for him as a new blacksmith moved in not long after the storm, and before Nicolau had been able to re-establish his own place of work.
As if to act as salt for the wound, Anjo had not been to see him for days following the maelstrom. While he managed to remain understanding—he himself being in a rough place—it still hurt and confused him that his love would be away for as long as she had been. It was also confusing…what was going on at her end? Anjo did not speak much of her personal life, nor had Nicolau seen where she lived. Thus he was not sure exactly what was going on for her, and only hoped she was well.
It was three weeks after the storm when she finally came to him—in the dead of night, and…in tears.
Protectiveness surged, and washed away all questions while he wiped away her tears and brought her inside. They sat together on his bed, Nico simply holding Anjo while she clung to him and cried. Nicolau simply let her cry it out, his strong arms keeping her supported against his chest as he rested his chin atop her head, set as it was upon his collarbone. A few sob-filled minutes later, and Anjo was finally calm enough that she explained her sorrow to him.
Her father, in his desperation following the storm…had arranged for her to marry a young foreign nobleman.
Nicolau’s previous protectiveness morphed into something else—what had once been warm coals suddenly burst into a roaring flame. He took steadying breaths, recognizing his secretly short temper and keeping it contained. Regardless, Anjo seemed to notice, and regretted the horridness of their situation. Nico merely held her and told her that he loved her, and promised he’d never leave her. Anjo sobbed, wishing out loud how it could just be the two of them. That’s when Nicolau got a wild idea. He suggested them running away, going off alone and starting a new life together, just the two of them. The idea seemed wild, but as he watched Anjo consider it, she seemed to grow more and more acclimated to the concept until she finally met his eyes. While his heart hurt at the sight of their redness, her nod and her smile swiftly repaired the damage.
They immediately began to pack up, gathering everything of use they could find in the ruins of Nicolau’s home. When he asked Anjo if there was anything she needed from her home, she merely shook her head sadly. Concerned, but in a hurry, Nico gave her a quick kiss before they gathered everything and made for the stables so as to purchase a horse for Anjo, as Nicolau himself owned his own horse (who’d endured the storm). Packed, mounted, and ready, the pair of lover’s rode off into the night, aiming for the northeast. Their plan was to ride to the eastern coast, as far as they could get from the city without going too far north. There, they would find a port where they could sell their horses, then charter a boat south. Anjo had mentioned having a sister in a city down that way, and that they could meet up with her and find a place for them to stay.
For a runaway, Nicolau was awfully excited. On the ride to a port city, he regaled Anjo with tales of his home back in Portugal. He went on about his father’s mighty sailing prowess, and when she asked how he felt about sailing, Nico merely shuddered and gagged, inciting wonderful laughs at his antics.
For a few days, their trek went well, and it seemed as if their plan would work. Unfortunately, even as they were in its more southerly reaches, the pair were still in Norway—and such a northern land was not known for merciful winters. Snow began to hinder their passage, though Nicolau thanked his lucky stars that he’d had the foresight to bring as many of his thickest furs along to keep him and Anjo warm. A few days more, however, brought along the coming of a blizzard. The icy storm forced the lovers to search for shelter.
But sadly, this would not be their fate.
Nicolau underestimated the severity of the blizzard, and it only got worse as they encroached on the mountains between the city they’d left behind, and the coast they’d made for. Eventually, the howl of wolves spooked his and Anjo’s horses, who threw them both and bolted…taking most of their stuff with them too. Rising slowly from the jarring landing, Nico stumbled to his feet and shuffled through the snow over to Anjo’s side. Once he helped her up, they both froze—not because of the snow, but rather because of the growls that echoed around them. Ever so slowly, Nicolau reached down to his lower leg, pulling a long, sharp knife he’d forged out of its sheath. Equally as slowly, he handed it to Anjo, while he simultaneously reached behind and pulled a sword—also forged by him—out of a baldric.
The cautious pair watched the woods carefully, standing back to back with their weapons brandished (one a bit more experienced than the other), but even they could not predict when or if the wolves would strike.
Large, muscular, and with grey fur, they launched out of the shadows of the trees and made straight for the both of them. Steel flashed and slashed between the snowflakes, sometimes meeting with the flesh of the wolves, sometimes not. Sometimes, claw or fang struck Nicolau, or worse, Anjo. Eventually, a wolf managed to get in close and clamp its teeth onto Anjo’s shin. As she screamed in pain, Nico roared with rage and kicked the face of a wolf he’d been facing off with. Without hesitation, he swung around and drove his sword into the wolf’s back. It had just enough time to retract its bite and scream in pain before Nicolau cut its throat.
A brief exchange of glances between the two lovers, and they refocused on the wolves.
But this luck against them would not hold out forever. The pack must have been large, for they just kept coming at them, one after another. Eventually, Nicolau found himself distracted by the adrenaline, by the rush of the fight, as he kept cutting down the wolves. Thus it was he didn’t notice Anjo’s own issues till it was too late. Her scream lanced deep into him, and he’d never felt such raw horror as he swung around to see her being dragged away by her feet.
Rage swiftly followed terror as he snarled his defiance. He turned to charge after his love’s snatchers, but forgot in his anger the wolves he was turning his back on. His back to them now, one of the wolves took the opportunity to jump onto his back, digging its claws into him and biting his shoulder. The pain was new to him, it was extreme, and the weight of the wolf dropped Nicolau to his knees. He just barely managed to grip his sword in his left hand and thrust it into the offending wolf’s shoulder. It yelped and fell off of him, Nico not wasting a moment as he turned and drove his sword up and into its belly.
As Nicolau outright roared at the other wolves, they finally balked and fled.
Wolves finally dealt with, Nicolau unsteadily rose to his feet and ran in the direction they others had taken Anjo. Panic lanced through his heart as Nicolau desperately searched for his love; but no matter how long he stumbled on, Nico could not find the wolves, nor Anjo. Regardless, the stubborn lad pushed forward, even as frostbite began to threaten to take him, along with blood loss, desperation, and fear. With nothing but his driving need to find Anjo, Nicolau trudged through the blizzard, slowly losing his senses as the cold sipped into his limbs and addle his mind, and as his muscles weakened. Despite how cold he was, he somehow managed to keep the most of his wits about him. Nicolau focused solely on Anjo, on finding her, on taking her away to his home. He focused every fiber of his mind on that one desire, his eyes all but tunneling around that one vision, that one hope.
Nicolau would find her…he would find Anjo! She meant far too much to him for him to give up.
But as he walked, however, something began to change. The blizzard broke around him, fading until all that was left of the whiteout was a steady, peaceful snowfall. Eventually, Nicolau’s mind slowly unfroze, allowing him to more easily take notice of his environment. Everything around him had changed—from the severity of the snowfall, to the warmth of the earth beneath his feet, to the very breed of the trees around him. Something was different…but the more he took stock of the wood, the better he seemed to feel. A new vigor seemed to fill his limbs, warming away the frost that had seeped into them, allowing Nicolau to uncross his stiff arms. He also felt a new, deep sensation as he hadn’t felt before. It was almost as if something was beckoning him into the wood, an incoherent voice providing him a decision: turn back now, into the cold, or move forward.
At first, Nicolau thought he should turn back. He needed to find Anjo—she was his top priority. But…what if she had found the wood as well? What if she had come across, felt the same call, and fled into it for safety? It was a simple 50/50 chance, and Nicolau made his choice; he continued forward, into the wood.
It was the torch that had caught Nico’s attention first. The man holding it introduced himself as Theo, and he gently guided Nicolau away to where a group of people were waiting for them. Still a bit in shock from the skirmish and physical trauma, Nico started, trying to lift the sword still gripped in his left hand. Theo swiftly stopped him, calming him down, assuring him that these people were with him, and that they were to here to help, just as he was. Still wary, but wanting to find Anjo, Nicolau responded to Theo’s words and allowed the strange people to mend his wounds.
Once he was healed, Nicolau was shown to a mysterious place that reminded him of Portugal, Spain, Britain, and Norway. There were so many people, some whose faces looked like they belonged to one of many different countries, but whose clothes matched and seemed to belong to…wherever they were. Theo and his assistants then informed Nicolau that this was Sybal Heim, that it was a safe place, and that he would be happy here.
Initially confused, and very lost, the first few days Nicolau didn’t even question as he struggled to process where he was. As night came, and his body changed, he felt such a raw and satisfying power that his mind immediately cleared, and he could have shouted in approval. Nicolau had always loved dragons, and to become one at night, he was grateful beyond words. The great strength and power that pulsed through his grand four-legged frame, the armored plate-like skin unconventional for dragons he's used to, but pleased him nonetheless. In time, the people who’d introduced him to this strange land “documented” him as Docile, but he didn’t understand why. It wasn't long until Nicolau had really begun to like this place, as well as its people. They took him to his own new home, and it was so much nicer than his old smithy back at—
…wait.
Nicolau remembered why he had entered that mysterious wood, why he was in this place in the first…well, place. Without hesitation, Nicolau began to ask after his Anjo, uses both his nickname for her as well as her actual name. Her sudden disappearance with no apparent trace would make sense if she had been brought just as he had, discovering the wood just as he thought she might have. But Nicolau’s question was met with hesitance… During the day, he asked—at night, he demanded. Days passed before he got a response from Theo and the other higher ups behind this place: the woman he called Anjo was not in Sybal Heim.
That was the night that his sybal form got its title: the Ragefire Dragon.
It was also the time that the officials who had documented him as Docile became uncertain as to the accuracy of their assignment. Luckily, the event was not so hazardous that he had been taken away to Kardia, but it was very near to being that severe. Only Nico’s inexperience with his sybal form kept him from doing worse damage (as well as his form being slightly less monstrous at the time). Nicolau apologized for the event the next morning, and humbly requested a smithy so he could contribute to the Heim and atone for his reckless misdeed. Once this was granted, he focused all his rage and anger into his smithing, so that there was less for the dragon to burn through at night, and less of a chance of causing any more trouble. Though there was no natural death, there was still death, and Nicolau refused to kill someone—or to die himself. He swore to himself that he would see Anjo again; either he would make Basileus take him back, or bring Anjo to him.
As more time went by, Nicolau began to fear that Anjo may either have forgotten him by now…or she could already be dead. This did not kill his spirit as Nicolau thought it would—rather, it left him with nothing to hold him back. Nicolau ignored the civil conflict at first, not giving a care and trying instead to simply help people. It wasn’t until one night, when a particularly rude Disciple disrespected Anjo—who Nicolau had mentioned several times to others—that he nearly killed the person. This was a clear sign to those who had come to know him that Nicolau's peaceful nature had been breaking, and now truly fallen to ash within the Dragon's flame as anger and rage had grown in its stead. Luckily, the constables succeeded in overpowering him, though given the strength of his sybal and his sybal power, it was only through sheer numbers.
Now came his time at Kardia.
No one knows what the young man’s time there was like, and he never speaks of it. However, Nicolau did seem to behave far more like that of a docile, meanwhile his nighttime activities seemed to have plummeted to near isolation, leaving some to assume Nicolau’s time as the Dragon is spent in calm meditation—or something, for he almost never came out at night anymore. No one pays this much heed, however, since Nicolau still smiths after the sun has set, just not within everyone else’s viewing range. It is fully presumed, then, that he had been reformed, not unlike the beloved Necalli.
However, this was but a front—a façade as masterfully crafted as his favorite sword.
Nicolau may believe in God (of Christianity), but he had never been a particularly “religious” person. Though this was not wholly changed by his time in Kardia, there was a notable shift. He never brought his time in Kardia up and never encouraged discussion of it, but privately to himself, Nicolau refers to his time there as “his visit to Hell”. For this reason and many others, he sees Basileus as a demon, if not the Devil himself—a shadowed creature veiling the minds of the people of Sybal Heim, tricking them into thinking they are in paradise. He also began to worry if God had forsaken him, and if so, why? As Nicolau endured Kardia with a scant majority of his sanity intact, he deduced instead that God was using the Black Demon to reforge Nicolau into a weapon. The peaceful side of him meant little to this world, and the strength of his kindness would not slay the abyssal monster trapping him in the Heim.
So while he kept his softer side intact, he decided to put it away. Thus it was that while the soft-hearted dragon he once was would always await his reunion with Anjo, he would never be able to slay Basileus with his present sybal.
To do that…he would have to become a monster himself.
From a fierce but kind four-legged dragon, to a viscious warrior dragon on two legs, Nicolau now serves Sybal Heim a seeming well-mannered Neutral—but is secretly a member of the Insurgence under the alias Kageros. He fights valiantly for them, his still-strong kindness and friendliness shining through even at night. Nico cherishes all the friendships he's made, and his bull-headed devotion has shone through many a time. But, while he fights for their cause because he truly feels it is just, and that no one should be forced to remain in Sybal Heim, the dragon made a promise that the man as well would keep: for the memory of his coração, he would wreak vengeance on the entity that tore him away from her.
Of course, once Nicolau began hearing rumors amongst the Insurgence, Disciples, and common folk alike of a mysterious and unknown sybal that had been taken to Kardia’s depths, with no documentation at all, and no face or name that anyone knew, the young man could not help but hope. For if there was even the slightest chance that Anjo was in Sybal Heim—He. Would. Find. Her.
Of this, there was no doubt.

Additional Info:
Nicolau’s sybal was undeniably influenced by his spirit, embodying passion and strength and myth and fire and energy. He had always thought he had the soul of a dragon, so when his sybal reflected that, Nico was not surprised, but instead relieved to know that he was right.
Similarly, the drastic change his sybal form went through was in direct correlation to his growing anger and desperation—the previous softness and sweetness slowly succumbing to the rage he’d always struggled to keep at bay.
While Nicolau’s sybal form does not technically bear any genitals, for the sake of preference as well as style, he dons a loincloth held fast to his waist by way of a belt. Beneath, there is nothing, but it is a simple preference that he likes to keep—plus, he secretly thinks it makes him look cooler.
Kageros is the name given to his sybal form, and this was both allowed and encouraged by Nicolau himself. He sees his sybal form as his love’s avenger, and an alias for it suited him just fine.
Nicolau was born in 1796 and was taken in 1823.
Hidden away in the westernmost corner of his dwelling is a small, devoted little spot where Nicolau kept the several dozen wooden carvings he’d made of Anjo’s likeness. Wishing to never forget her face, he kept them safe and in good care. Nico had also commissioned a music box that chimes away a song she’d once sang to him as they’d lain together in a bed, and this trinket was also kept in the veritable shrine. Anyone who even enters the room that the corner is in will earn Nicolau’s ire, whether it be during the day or at night.
Nicolau carved into metal a necklace for himself, with a stylized crocus flower on the front, and writing in Portuguese on the back that reads: Quando a última noite termina, e o fogo do dragão mingua, eu vou ver minha Snow Queen novamente. (When the last night ends, and the dragon fire wanes, I'll see my Snow Queen again.)
Nicolau only allows people who know him well to call him Nico. At night, he refuses to be referred to by his real name, and instead by Kageros. As for the nickname Fierro—no one calls him that. That was Anjo’s cute name for him, inspired by his surname.
Nicolau had already practiced with the weapons he’d forged, so even during the day when the immense power of Kageros was beyond his reach, he can still cause much physical harm if he so wanted. This also proved to be useful in keeping Nicolau and Kageros separate in the minds of the citizens—one would not expect the smithing knight to be a dragon by night.
Kageros is the only name most people know his Sybal by, as he struggles to keep Nicolau and Kageros as separate entities to the rest of Sybal Heim as possible.
As Kageros, he almost never talks, conversing only in roars, growls, grunts, and most commonly with chuffs.
Despite his sybal form being, by all means, a dragon, Kageros cannot himself breathe fire. That is not to say fire is not his element—on the contrary, his ryze is his fire, acting as a kind of spectral flame that sears whatever it touches. Even when not using the ryze, Kageros is constantly shimmering with heat, as the ryze lines coursing across his muscles constantly exude heat throughout the night.
Nicolau’s feelings toward Basileus are, at best, complicated. While he hates him, and wants to end him, he also fears the Organizer. If one thing is constant between survivors of Kardia, it’s that no one comes out looking at Basileus the same way again.

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Main Human Image © Charles Tan
Portrait and Sybal Form ©

Description

Finally! My app is all done, viola! The writing was the first thing done, of course, but twas edited many a time and even extended here and there as I brainstormed further, read other Character Apps in , and just made sure it was as appropriate and high-quality as I could. The reason the portrait looks different from the full body is because it was commissioned from two different people, with two different art styles. They are, however, the same character, I assure you.

Main human image by Charles Tan , and sybal form and portrait by Me.

Also, Art-Zealot if Anjo (mentioned below in "History") seems at all familiar to you—Not. One. Word.

Name: Nicolau Ferreiro
Nicknames: Nico, Fierro, Kageros (alias for Sybal form)
Age: 69
Physical Age: 27
Height: 6’2
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Blue

Faction: Insurgent
Nicolau’s reasoning for siding with the Insurgence is simple, really; he misses his home, he furnace he’d built himself, his horse and dog, both of whom are long gone now. He also had a lover, as well—a beautiful young woman he believes to be dead. While during the day Nicolau seems more melancholy and homesick than anything, during the night, any thought of mention of his old life is more than likely to send him into a rage—that is not to say he won’t get mad in the daytime, however, it’s just worse at night. When Nicolau first heard about the Insurgence, he was reluctant to get involved in the conflict. But then one night, he got into a fight with a Disciple, prompting the raging sybal to immediately join and become Insurgent. While Nicolau was sheepish the next morning, he did not retract his choice. To this day, he seems neutral while the sun is up, but turn zealously Insurgent once it sets.

Occupation: Nicolau maintained the same occupation he had back home, which was being a Blacksmith. Having been known for exceptional metalwork, Nico didn’t dare let his skills suffer in this new world, even if he did want to go home. He uses his talents for whatever the peoples need of him—odds and ends, tools, even weapons. Nico doesn’t let the conflict affect his clientele; Disciple, Insurgent, Neutral, it does not matter to Nicolau—not as long as you pay, he is at your service.

Sybal Form: The Ragefire Dragon
Nicolau’s sybal form is the inhibited manifestation of his suppressed emotions and thoughts, and is him as he would be with no self-restraints. While still bipedal, and overall humanoid in stature, Nico’s sybal form is heavily draconic, but in an alien and otherworldly way. There are many sharp spikes along his body, including two on both sides of his face, and two sweeping off of his eye ridges. There are also sharp bony spikes on his shoulders and knees as well, though none of the spikes actually protrude from his body—his hide covers them all, not revealing the bone within.
A mysterious and powerful cyan energy flows through his body, manifesting in stark streaks through his hard hide—these streaks appear to steam and glow, and sizzle constantly, making others think they burn. If they do, however, then Nicolau shows no acknowledgement of it. With sharp claws on his hands and feet, thick, immense muscles, and great speed granted by his reverse-jointed legs, Nicolau’s Sybal Form is the purest herald of the mythical beast from his home that it resembles.

Sybal Power: Dragon’s Ryze
Nicolau’s sybal power is his ability to use ryze—the pure and undiluted power of dragons. With it, he can possess strength beyond his physical limitations, which is usually manifest in a bright cyan aura that envelops his body, shining and licking likes tongues of flame. He can also increase the size of the aura, turning it into a spectral suit that can make him seem larger than he really is. This takes much of his energy from him, however, and he does not use it unless absolutely necessary.

Docile or Feral: Feral
When Nicolau first came to Sybal Heim, he behaved rather docilely, and was documented as such. This would prove later to be rather strained, as Nico could be easily perturbed, impassioned, or angered, though he usually tries to keep myself reined in. This does not always work however, and at night, it does not work all. At night he is purely feral, revealing without restraint the true nature that he holds back, and the only time his sybal would act remotely docile is if the woman he loved back home were with him. But as she is not, this makes it near impossible for him to control himself as his sybal form were he to lose control.

Personality: Nicolau is a normally carefree, energetic and friendly person that most people get along fine with. He has the ability to make friends with several kinds of people—even people who argue, dislike, or hate each other would find that they share Nico as a mutual friend. He still disagrees with some people, as is normal, but he almost never mentions his own opinion for a personal detest of conflict.
Nicolau has a great love for creativity and art, always being found doing something creative of some kind: drawing, writing, smithing, leatherworking, even dancing or singing (though he claims his voice is terrible). Anything to get the limitless energy within spent so that he doesn’t burst at the seams (which people joke is what happened to his sybal). Nico is also very supportive of other people’s ingenuity as well, always supporting it wherever he found it, and regardless of its nature.
Nicolau has great detest for anything stuffy and bound by reality. Politics, government, mathematics—these are some examples of the things that bore Nico out of his mind and actually dampen his creative spirit. He avoids these as much as he can, preferring to immerse himself in fiction. This seems to be a strong influence on his sybal form, given that it is a dragon.
Charity, compassion, and mercy often rule his daytime actions. Nicolau is also known for his sheer kindness—akin to that of a dog, if he sees someone, anyone, crying or in pain, his first instinct is to stop by their side and offer his assistance. This is ironic given that he is loathe to ask for help himself, somehow thinking he is only bothering people with his own problems. While this is very much less so at night, even in sybal form, Nico is known for never abandoning his comrades, nor disobeying orders unless he had very good reason. His bullish stubbornness and devotion remain strong at all times, day or night, and this traits have endeared him to many a person in Sybal Heim. Nicolau is loyal to a fault and a fighter for what he believes, and who he loves.

Despite being a very outgoing, cheerful, and loud individual, Nicolau has a flip-side to his personality that often clashes with his seeming extroverted-ness. He can have sudden moments of anxiety or shyness, sometimes to debilitating levels where he cannot bring himself to do what he needs to, simply because the thought of doing it makes him exceedingly anxious. This confuses many people who know him because of his outgoing traits, and are surprised when he says no to a party, or to just hanging out. Unlike some people, Nicolau has a limit to his ability to interact with others; leading him to often require time alone to recharge.
Don’t let how sweet, thoughtful, and nice Nicolau is fool you, however. He can be very stubborn to the point of bull-headed, though he does try to keep an open mind and heart, he mostly keeps his habits. He also hates it when his routines are disturbed, and likes the comfort of repetition. Nicolau can also be infuriated by people telling him how to do something when he already knows how to do it, as well if they try to force him to do something he does not want to do. Nicolau also gets enraged when people he cares about are threatened or disrespected, getting protective in a very fiery way that matches his sybal. In fact, it is when in his sybal form that is rage physically manifests, his aura of ryze flaming erratically as he gradually loses his coherence. Needless to say, Nicolau’s calm, cheerful outward demeanor masks a deeply buried fire of rage, one that he struggles everyday—both in the Heim and when he was back home—to keep in check, so as not to harm others.

History: Nicolau was born in a Portuguese city along the coast—one of many whose shipyards stretched larger than the city itself. While most of the people of the city, of Portugal itself, were said to have saltwater in their veins, Nico did not show such inheritance. No, rather, steel and fire seemed to be in his, as he never did like sailing all that much, and preferred the feel of the earth beneath his feet. This made it hard for him as his family were seasoned seafarers, and had been sailing for generations. Nicolau’s father was displeased with his son’s indifference towards the sea, and for the duration of his adolescence, struggled to train him as a sailor.
Nico chafed under his father’s strict vision for his future, and every time he could, Nicolau would flee and find the nearest smithy. For a few years, he simply hid and watched the young woman of his favorite smithy shop work. The young boy could tell she didn’t get much work—most days he watched her, barely a person came to pay for her services. Most of the time she instead worked on her own projects, her arms strong and hands calloused as she crafted tools, horseshoes, nails, and even weapons day after day.
Eventually, the day came that the smith woman discovered Nicolau, and demanded why he watched her all the time, thinking he was some kind of spy sent by the sexist male smiths that attempted to ruin her work. Nicolau claimed no foul play, saying only that he wished he could learn to be a wonderful blacksmith like she was. Shocked by this compliment, the woman gave her name—Maria—and began to teach Nicolau what she knew.
Thus it was that this went on for years; Nicolau’s father would teach his son to be a sailor, the boy no longer fighting but instead using the strenuous work to tone his body and make smithing all the easier. Then Nico would run off whenever he was free to Maria’s smithy, assisting her and learning from her, quickly showing natural talent for anything involving metal and fire. Maria even began to let Nicolau take over ever so slightly, the two crafting a front that he was the hand behind the hammer, tricking the conservative clientele that refused a female smith into hiring Nicolau for his services, only to take home top-quality work that was formed instead by Maria.
Once Nicolau had gained a “reputation” of impeccable craftsmanship, and the talent to back it up, Maria gave him an invaluable hint. Up north, beyond Spain and the European continent, all the way on the Southern edge of Norway, lay a fjord-nestled city that could use a blacksmith of his caliber.
With a highly demanded profession, and a city to set up shop, Nicolau confessed to his family what he had been up to the past few years. At first, his father was furious at having been fooled. But as his son went on, the older man then realized that the metalwork one of his sailors had purchased a while ago—and that saved all of their lives at one point—had either been forged by Maria…or by his son. Realizing how foolish he’d been acting, and fairly noting Nicolau’s talent at blacksmithing, the burly sailor let go of his anger and praised his son’s skill. With the blessing of his family, extra coin and luggage along with their love, Nicolau chartered a boat and went north for the Norwegian city his mentor had recommended.
In a couple months of travel, Nicolau finally arrived at the city, only semi-deranged by the time trapped on sea.
Nico took his first step on the wooden dock of the city’s harbor, greeted by a portly, balding ginger-haired man in a suit. Somehow, Maria must’ve had connections to the very royalty themselves, for this man was nothing less than the Castle Steward. He was led by the man to an old smithy that hadn’t seen use in a few weeks, and needed plenty of tender love and care. With a private quarters in the back, Nicolau happily accepted the smithy, asking the Steward to send his thanks directly to the king.
Once the place was fixed up, the furnace thrown out and a brand new one fashioned, he was finally in business. It seemed to him that the city hadn’t had a decent blacksmith for a while, given that in no time, he was up to his ears in orders. It was many months before he’d worked his way to any free time whatsoever.
One evening, when Nicolau was resting on his bed, trying to ignore the aches after a long day of work, he heard a knock on his door. Greatly annoyed, he stormed out of his room, stomping down to the smithy and preparing to threaten someone with his favorite sword. But once he’d opened the door, instead of yet another customer, all Nicolau registered was an angel. With long, near-white blonde hair reigned back in an intricate braid, bright cerulean eyes that seemed to see straight through him, and pale skin that probably rarely saw the sun but looked achingly soft regardless, the young woman practically had Nicolau gaping.
It wasn’t until she spoke that he came out of his trance…and remembered he was only clad in trousers and boots. Ignoring that fact, he focused instead on what the woman said, listening as she introduced herself (though in his mind he was already calling her Anjo), and how she’d waited till Nico was free before she came to meet the city’s new blacksmith. He thanked her for her patience, and asked if she wanted to come inside out of the cold, given that it was winter at the time, and snow had long since claimed the city.
Once Nico had put on a shirt and got his furnace going just enough to warm the place, the pair sat near it and chatted amiably for hours on end. It was already beyond evident that they got along, and as the hour grew terribly late, Anjo was forced to leave, claiming that her father would be greatly upset if she stayed out too late. Saddened that she had to go, Nicolau reluctantly bid her farewell, voicing his hope for them to speak again. He was rewarded with a smile and a “Perhaps” before the elegant blonde returned home.
The next year found them growing closer and closer, until one day midway through, with a shock, Nicolau realized that it was very possible he might be in love with Anjo. Whether or not she reciprocated, however, scared him, and he nearly went through with the consideration of no longer seeing her. But an excruciating stomach ache always accompanied that thought, as did a pain in his heart, and that only affirmed his feelings to himself.
One night, when he and Anjo had planned on a horse ride up into the mountains, Nicolau promised himself he would confess his feelings and pray he wasn’t shut down. As it happened, the exact opposite occurred; Anjo revealed her plans to do just what Nico had done, and he had never known such joy. They shared their first kiss that night, and it was quite some time before either felt like parting, let alone going home.
The new couple had a blissful half-a-year to enjoy together before everything went to frozen hell.
It began near the end of fall, when one immense, powerful storm decided to ravage through the northern reaches of the European continent. Its strength was legendary, forcing hundreds of thousands of people to shore up their homes and take shelter, with their only choice being to wait it out. The storm’s wrath was terrible to be sure, and once it was done and over, each of the countries recovered in their own ways.
In Norway, things were not at all well.
The storm had been so bad for them, many were forced to take shelter in the stronger buildings, especially in the city where Nicolau lived. Anjo had actually come to him before the storm’s worst had struck, and together they took shelter in a strong, stone-hewn building that stood in defiance to the elements. That did not completely reassure its refugees, however, whom all huddled with fear—the two lovers themselves cuddling especially close, whispering quiet assurances to the other. When the storm was finally over, the citizens emerged from their protection to find their city still whole, but sorely damaged.
In fact, Nicolau’s smithy was completely and utterly gone—the building appeared to have either been struck by lightning, or the furnace had somehow let loose its flames, which Nico had actually been unable to put out before he was forced to leave. Either way, his means of work was gone, and for a smith, that was a terrible thing indeed. Matters were made worse for him as a new blacksmith moved in not long after the storm, and before Nicolau had been able to re-establish his own place of work.
As if to act as salt for the wound, Anjo had not been to see him for days following the maelstrom. While he managed to remain understanding—he himself being in a rough place—it still hurt and confused him that his love would be away for as long as she had been. It was also confusing…what was going on at her end? Anjo did not speak much of her personal life, nor had Nicolau seen where she lived. Thus he was not sure exactly what was going on for her, and only hoped she was well.
It was three weeks after the storm when she finally came to him—in the dead of night, and…in tears.
Protectiveness surged, and washed away all questions while he wiped away her tears and brought her inside. They sat together on his bed, Nico simply holding Anjo while she clung to him and cried. Nicolau simply let her cry it out, his strong arms keeping her supported against his chest as he rested his chin atop her head, set as it was upon his collarbone. A few sob-filled minutes later, and Anjo was finally calm enough that she explained her sorrow to him.
Her father, in his desperation following the storm…had arranged for her to marry a young foreign nobleman.
Nicolau’s previous protectiveness morphed into something else—what had once been warm coals suddenly burst into a roaring flame. He took steadying breaths, recognizing his secretly short temper and keeping it contained. Regardless, Anjo seemed to notice, and regretted the horridness of their situation. Nico merely held her and told her that he loved her, and promised he’d never leave her. Anjo sobbed, wishing out loud how it could just be the two of them. That’s when Nicolau got a wild idea. He suggested them running away, going off alone and starting a new life together, just the two of them. The idea seemed wild, but as he watched Anjo consider it, she seemed to grow more and more acclimated to the concept until she finally met his eyes. While his heart hurt at the sight of their redness, her nod and her smile swiftly repaired the damage.
They immediately began to pack up, gathering everything of use they could find in the ruins of Nicolau’s home. When he asked Anjo if there was anything she needed from her home, she merely shook her head sadly. Concerned, but in a hurry, Nico gave her a quick kiss before they gathered everything and made for the stables so as to purchase a horse for Anjo, as Nicolau himself owned his own horse (who’d endured the storm). Packed, mounted, and ready, the pair of lover’s rode off into the night, aiming for the northeast. Their plan was to ride to the eastern coast, as far as they could get from the city without going too far north. There, they would find a port where they could sell their horses, then charter a boat south. Anjo had mentioned having a sister in a city down that way, and that they could meet up with her and find a place for them to stay.
For a runaway, Nicolau was awfully excited. On the ride to a port city, he regaled Anjo with tales of his home back in Portugal. He went on about his father’s mighty sailing prowess, and when she asked how he felt about sailing, Nico merely shuddered and gagged, inciting wonderful laughs at his antics.
For a few days, their trek went well, and it seemed as if their plan would work. Unfortunately, even as they were in its more southerly reaches, the pair were still in Norway—and such a northern land was not known for merciful winters. Snow began to hinder their passage, though Nicolau thanked his lucky stars that he’d had the foresight to bring as many of his thickest furs along to keep him and Anjo warm. A few days more, however, brought along the coming of a blizzard. The icy storm forced the lovers to search for shelter.
But sadly, this would not be their fate.
Nicolau underestimated the severity of the blizzard, and it only got worse as they encroached on the mountains between the city they’d left behind, and the coast they’d made for. Eventually, the howl of wolves spooked his and Anjo’s horses, who threw them both and bolted…taking most of their stuff with them too. Rising slowly from the jarring landing, Nico stumbled to his feet and shuffled through the snow over to Anjo’s side. Once he helped her up, they both froze—not because of the snow, but rather because of the growls that echoed around them. Ever so slowly, Nicolau reached down to his lower leg, pulling a long, sharp knife he’d forged out of its sheath. Equally as slowly, he handed it to Anjo, while he simultaneously reached behind and pulled a sword—also forged by him—out of a baldric.
The cautious pair watched the woods carefully, standing back to back with their weapons brandished (one a bit more experienced than the other), but even they could not predict when or if the wolves would strike.
Large, muscular, and with grey fur, they launched out of the shadows of the trees and made straight for the both of them. Steel flashed and slashed between the snowflakes, sometimes meeting with the flesh of the wolves, sometimes not. Sometimes, claw or fang struck Nicolau, or worse, Anjo. Eventually, a wolf managed to get in close and clamp its teeth onto Anjo’s shin. As she screamed in pain, Nico roared with rage and kicked the face of a wolf he’d been facing off with. Without hesitation, he swung around and drove his sword into the wolf’s back. It had just enough time to retract its bite and scream in pain before Nicolau cut its throat.
A brief exchange of glances between the two lovers, and they refocused on the wolves.
But this luck against them would not hold out forever. The pack must have been large, for they just kept coming at them, one after another. Eventually, Nicolau found himself distracted by the adrenaline, by the rush of the fight, as he kept cutting down the wolves. Thus it was he didn’t notice Anjo’s own issues till it was too late. Her scream lanced deep into him, and he’d never felt such raw horror as he swung around to see her being dragged away by her feet.
Rage swiftly followed terror as he snarled his defiance. He turned to charge after his love’s snatchers, but forgot in his anger the wolves he was turning his back on. His back to them now, one of the wolves took the opportunity to jump onto his back, digging its claws into him and biting his shoulder. The pain was new to him, it was extreme, and the weight of the wolf dropped Nicolau to his knees. He just barely managed to grip his sword in his left hand and thrust it into the offending wolf’s shoulder. It yelped and fell off of him, Nico not wasting a moment as he turned and drove his sword up and into its belly.
As Nicolau outright roared at the other wolves, they finally balked and fled.
Wolves finally dealt with, Nicolau unsteadily rose to his feet and ran in the direction they others had taken Anjo. Panic lanced through his heart as Nicolau desperately searched for his love; but no matter how long he stumbled on, Nico could not find the wolves, nor Anjo. Regardless, the stubborn lad pushed forward, even as frostbite began to threaten to take him, along with blood loss, desperation, and fear. With nothing but his driving need to find Anjo, Nicolau trudged through the blizzard, slowly losing his senses as the cold sipped into his limbs and addle his mind, and as his muscles weakened. Despite how cold he was, he somehow managed to keep the most of his wits about him. Nicolau focused solely on Anjo, on finding her, on taking her away to his home. He focused every fiber of his mind on that one desire, his eyes all but tunneling around that one vision, that one hope.
Nicolau would find her…he would find Anjo! She meant far too much to him for him to give up.
But as he walked, however, something began to change. The blizzard broke around him, fading until all that was left of the whiteout was a steady, peaceful snowfall. Eventually, Nicolau’s mind slowly unfroze, allowing him to more easily take notice of his environment. Everything around him had changed—from the severity of the snowfall, to the warmth of the earth beneath his feet, to the very breed of the trees around him. Something was different…but the more he took stock of the wood, the better he seemed to feel. A new vigor seemed to fill his limbs, warming away the frost that had seeped into them, allowing Nicolau to uncross his stiff arms. He also felt a new, deep sensation as he hadn’t felt before. It was almost as if something was beckoning him into the wood, an incoherent voice providing him a decision: turn back now, into the cold, or move forward.
At first, Nicolau thought he should turn back. He needed to find Anjo—she was his top priority. But…what if she had found the wood as well? What if she had come across, felt the same call, and fled into it for safety? It was a simple 50/50 chance, and Nicolau made his choice; he continued forward, into the wood.
It was the torch that had caught Nico’s attention first. The man holding it introduced himself as Theo, and he gently guided Nicolau away to where a group of people were waiting for them. Still a bit in shock from the skirmish and physical trauma, Nico started, trying to lift the sword still gripped in his left hand. Theo swiftly stopped him, calming him down, assuring him that these people were with him, and that they were to here to help, just as he was. Still wary, but wanting to find Anjo, Nicolau responded to Theo’s words and allowed the strange people to mend his wounds.
Once he was healed, Nicolau was shown to a mysterious place that reminded him of Portugal, Spain, Britain, and Norway. There were so many people, some whose faces looked like they belonged to one of many different countries, but whose clothes matched and seemed to belong to…wherever they were. Theo and his assistants then informed Nicolau that this was Sybal Heim, that it was a safe place, and that he would be happy here.
Initially confused, and very lost, the first few days Nicolau didn’t even question as he struggled to process where he was. As night came, and his body changed, he felt such a raw and satisfying power that his mind immediately cleared, and he could have shouted in approval. Nicolau had always loved dragons, and to become one at night, he was grateful beyond words. The great strength and power that pulsed through his grand four-legged frame, the armored plate-like skin unconventional for dragons he's used to, but pleased him nonetheless. In time, the people who’d introduced him to this strange land “documented” him as Docile, but he didn’t understand why. It wasn't long until Nicolau had really begun to like this place, as well as its people. They took him to his own new home, and it was so much nicer than his old smithy back at—
…wait.
Nicolau remembered why he had entered that mysterious wood, why he was in this place in the first…well, place. Without hesitation, Nicolau began to ask after his Anjo, uses both his nickname for her as well as her actual name. Her sudden disappearance with no apparent trace would make sense if she had been brought just as he had, discovering the wood just as he thought she might have. But Nicolau’s question was met with hesitance… During the day, he asked—at night, he demanded. Days passed before he got a response from Theo and the other higher ups behind this place: the woman he called Anjo was not in Sybal Heim.
That was the night that his sybal form got its title: the Ragefire Dragon.
It was also the time that the officials who had documented him as Docile became uncertain as to the accuracy of their assignment. Luckily, the event was not so hazardous that he had been taken away to Kardia, but it was very near to being that severe. Only Nico’s inexperience with his sybal form kept him from doing worse damage (as well as his form being slightly less monstrous at the time). Nicolau apologized for the event the next morning, and humbly requested a smithy so he could contribute to the Heim and atone for his reckless misdeed. Once this was granted, he focused all his rage and anger into his smithing, so that there was less for the dragon to burn through at night, and less of a chance of causing any more trouble. Though there was no natural death, there was still death, and Nicolau refused to kill someone—or to die himself. He swore to himself that he would see Anjo again; either he would make Basileus take him back, or bring Anjo to him.
As more time went by, Nicolau began to fear that Anjo may either have forgotten him by now…or she could already be dead. This did not kill his spirit as Nicolau thought it would—rather, it left him with nothing to hold him back. Nicolau ignored the civil conflict at first, not giving a care and trying instead to simply help people. It wasn’t until one night, when a particularly rude Disciple disrespected Anjo—who Nicolau had mentioned several times to others—that he nearly killed the person. This was a clear sign to those who had come to know him that Nicolau's peaceful nature had been breaking, and now truly fallen to ash within the Dragon's flame as anger and rage had grown in its stead. Luckily, the constables succeeded in overpowering him, though given the strength of his sybal and his sybal power, it was only through sheer numbers.
Now came his time at Kardia.
No one knows what the young man’s time there was like, and he never speaks of it. However, Nicolau did seem to behave far more like that of a docile, meanwhile his nighttime activities seemed to have plummeted to near isolation, leaving some to assume Nicolau’s time as the Dragon is spent in calm meditation—or something, for he almost never came out at night anymore. No one pays this much heed, however, since Nicolau still smiths after the sun has set, just not within everyone else’s viewing range. It is fully presumed, then, that he had been reformed, not unlike the beloved Necalli.
However, this was but a front—a façade as masterfully crafted as his favorite sword.
Nicolau may believe in God (of Christianity), but he had never been a particularly “religious” person. Though this was not wholly changed by his time in Kardia, there was a notable shift. He never brought his time in Kardia up and never encouraged discussion of it, but privately to himself, Nicolau refers to his time there as “his visit to Hell”. For this reason and many others, he sees Basileus as a demon, if not the Devil himself—a shadowed creature veiling the minds of the people of Sybal Heim, tricking them into thinking they are in paradise. He also began to worry if God had forsaken him, and if so, why? As Nicolau endured Kardia with a scant majority of his sanity intact, he deduced instead that God was using the Black Demon to reforge Nicolau into a weapon. The peaceful side of him meant little to this world, and the strength of his kindness would not slay the abyssal monster trapping him in the Heim.
So while he kept his softer side intact, he decided to put it away. Thus it was that while the soft-hearted dragon he once was would always await his reunion with Anjo, he would never be able to slay Basileus with his present sybal.
To do that…he would have to become a monster himself.
From a fierce but kind four-legged dragon, to a viscious warrior dragon on two legs, Nicolau now serves Sybal Heim a seeming well-mannered Neutral—but is secretly a member of the Insurgence under the alias Kageros. He fights valiantly for them, his still-strong kindness and friendliness shining through even at night. Nico cherishes all the friendships he's made, and his bull-headed devotion has shone through many a time. But, while he fights for their cause because he truly feels it is just, and that no one should be forced to remain in Sybal Heim, the dragon made a promise that the man as well would keep: for the memory of his coração, he would wreak vengeance on the entity that tore him away from her.
Of course, once Nicolau began hearing rumors amongst the Insurgence, Disciples, and common folk alike of a mysterious and unknown sybal that had been taken to Kardia’s depths, with no documentation at all, and no face or name that anyone knew, the young man could not help but hope. For if there was even the slightest chance that Anjo was in Sybal Heim—He. Would. Find. Her.
Of this, there was no doubt.

Additional Info:
Nicolau’s sybal was undeniably influenced by his spirit, embodying passion and strength and myth and fire and energy. He had always thought he had the soul of a dragon, so when his sybal reflected that, Nico was not surprised, but instead relieved to know that he was right.
Similarly, the drastic change his sybal form went through was in direct correlation to his growing anger and desperation—the previous softness and sweetness slowly succumbing to the rage he’d always struggled to keep at bay.
While Nicolau’s sybal form does not technically bear any genitals, for the sake of preference as well as style, he dons a loincloth held fast to his waist by way of a belt. Beneath, there is nothing, but it is a simple preference that he likes to keep—plus, he secretly thinks it makes him look cooler.
Kageros is the name given to his sybal form, and this was both allowed and encouraged by Nicolau himself. He sees his sybal form as his love’s avenger, and an alias for it suited him just fine.
Nicolau was born in 1796 and was taken in 1823.
Hidden away in the westernmost corner of his dwelling is a small, devoted little spot where Nicolau kept the several dozen wooden carvings he’d made of Anjo’s likeness. Wishing to never forget her face, he kept them safe and in good care. Nico had also commissioned a music box that chimes away a song she’d once sang to him as they’d lain together in a bed, and this trinket was also kept in the veritable shrine. Anyone who even enters the room that the corner is in will earn Nicolau’s ire, whether it be during the day or at night.
Nicolau carved into metal a necklace for himself, with a stylized crocus flower on the front, and writing in Portuguese on the back that reads: Quando a última noite termina, e o fogo do dragão mingua, eu vou ver minha Snow Queen novamente. (When the last night ends, and the dragon fire wanes, I'll see my Snow Queen again.)
Nicolau only allows people who know him well to call him Nico. At night, he refuses to be referred to by his real name, and instead by Kageros. As for the nickname Fierro—no one calls him that. That was Anjo’s cute name for him, inspired by his surname.
Nicolau had already practiced with the weapons he’d forged, so even during the day when the immense power of Kageros was beyond his reach, he can still cause much physical harm if he so wanted. This also proved to be useful in keeping Nicolau and Kageros separate in the minds of the citizens—one would not expect the smithing knight to be a dragon by night.
Kageros is the only name most people know his Sybal by, as he struggles to keep Nicolau and Kageros as separate entities to the rest of Sybal Heim as possible.
As Kageros, he almost never talks, conversing only in roars, growls, grunts, and most commonly with chuffs.
Despite his sybal form being, by all means, a dragon, Kageros cannot himself breathe fire. That is not to say fire is not his element—on the contrary, his ryze is his fire, acting as a kind of spectral flame that sears whatever it touches. Even when not using the ryze, Kageros is constantly shimmering with heat, as the ryze lines coursing across his muscles constantly exude heat throughout the night.
Nicolau’s feelings toward Basileus are, at best, complicated. While he hates him, and wants to end him, he also fears the Organizer. If one thing is constant between survivors of Kardia, it’s that no one comes out looking at Basileus the same way again.

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Main Human Image © Charles Tan
Portrait and Sybal Form ©