[hider=In My Second Life, I'm Done Holding Back!][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/ZDeq9IN.png[/img][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wkw3brahITE][h2]"C'mon! Let's see how far we can push it!"[/h2][/url][/center][h3][b][i]Ferrucio Agatino Kaides[/i][/b][/h3] [b]Age:[/b] 17 [27] | [b]Height:[/b] 5'11 | [b]Voice:[/b] Tenor [h3][i]First Life[/i][/h3][indent]They were [i][b]Brilliance[/b][/i] itself, exemplified in the solitary flash of their blade, in the innocent ideals reflected in their gaze. In his past and in his present, they always colored the world in a rose hue, as if the heat in his blood, the quickening of his heart, could be explained away by a heady summer that only he could feel. And who was he but the bastard child of the Kaides, a mongrel birthed from the indiscretion of a prodigal knight, pulled into the gravity of the great house simply out of a moment of charity? He could not dare aspire, could only be set in the role of a shieldbearer, a perpetual squire in role if not name. He was the shadow of the flower that basked in the sun, fungal growth that only parasitized and poisoned at the behest of the young master. He learned to wield a shield before a sword, for the glory of the kill was meant for others, and the only strength he developed was that of a pack mule. It was no surprise that he was left behind. The Young Master that he served bloomed brilliantly, becoming part of the Last Great Generation. The Brilliance that had colored his days had long departed to the borderlands as Captain of the Swiftblades Regiment, tasked with preemptive strikes against monstrous encampments. And he? He was but a dumb, sullen thing, shriveling up as an oaf of an errand boy for those that remained stuck with the label of the Failed Generation. He could have left, perhaps. House Kaides had all but disavowed him, that charity case whose prostitute-blood ran more thickly than his noble blood. And yet, he remained in the Collegem Yllustre still. Training. Straining. Keeping his head down, keeping his profile low, but crawling still. He had thought that he'd be able to put his feelings into words once he graduated, once the fruits of his efforts awarded him with an Awakened Aura. Graduation came, and his Aura remained stagnant. The Demons tore down Solvah, and he was sent out as a foot soldier rather than a Knight of Kaides. He had thought that he'd be able to put his feelings into words once he distinguished himself in combat, for perhaps it was in life-and-death battle against true evil that he would awaken to his Kaides-blood. There was nothing so glorious as holding a shieldwall, only to be sent flying from the minotaurs' charge and spending the remainder of his first battle trying not to swallow the vomit stuck in his helmet as he stumbled away from the worst of the action. He had thought that he'd be able to put his feelings into words onc- The siege of Ylliastrum was nothing but tragedy after tragedy, breathless messengers delivering word of more and more losses around the kingdom, and even amidst all that, the story of the ignoble end of the Swiftswords Regiment stood out, the banners of that expeditionary strike force turned to nothing more than a cloak for the Beast King to wear into battle. -e he could take Yaku's head, for the 'glory' of being promoted to serve as a Royal Guard during these desperate times was entirely insufficient. And yet the Beast King fell while he was leagues away, alongside the true heroes of Kaidisyum who dealt the greatest blow the Demonic Horde had ever suffered. And even that great victory wasn't enough to change the reality of his own situation: nothing more than a laborer now, every able-bodied youth tasked with putting hammer to nail, nail to board, repairing and preparing every possible ship there was for the voyage to the Fae Isles. It was their only hope, after all, a hope roused by the First Princess's impassioned speech, a hope that shone so bright that it turned those bitter days halcyon once more. He had thought that he'd be able to put his feelings into words once the war was lost and they became refugees, so that he could at least tell others what that individual meant to him. But when the bells tolled the arrival of despair, when he strapped on his dented armor, his claw-rent shield, the sword he stole off a better man, he knew that too was no longer a possibility. When all was lost, what else was there to do? He braced himself and reached for the only spot of glory left for this muzzled mongrel. A glorious charge, a glorious death, all so he didn't have to learn what fate would befall the last Royals of Luzia. ... Even in his last breath, Ferrucio Agatino Kaides could not put his feelings into words. All he could do was lament that he ought to have spoken up fifteen years earlier. [/indent][h3][i]Equipment[/i][/h3] [list][*]Sword & Board [*]Full Plate w/o Helmet [*]A Big Ass Cape[/list][h3][i]Abilities[/i][/h3] [list][*]Physical Strength: 2nd Rate [*]Aura: Expert [*]Magic: 0th Circle [/list][/hider]