Welcome to Adventu, your final fantasy rp haven. adventu focuses on both canon and original characters from different worlds and timelines that have all been pulled to the world of zephon: a familiar final fantasy-styled land where all adventurers will fight, explore, and make new personal connections.
at adventu, we believe that colorful story and plots far outweigh the need for a battle system. rp should be about the writing, the fun, and the creativity. you will see that the only system on our site is the encouragement to create amazing adventures with other members. welcome to adventu... how will you arrive?
year 5, quarter 3
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The question reverberated again and again no matter how he tried to suppress it. He was stranded. Forgotten. Lost in a way he’d never been before. Ahead of him was nothing but open space without definition. There was no schedule, no orders, no responsibilities he kept balanced at the palm of his hand. The silence made him itch.
And so he found himself once again wandering this anachronistic city, telling himself that he had to gather intel though of course there was nothing to find. Nothing to find, no one to prove himself to, no goals at which to excel.
Only a pointless city and civilians that eyed him more with alarm than adoration.
A strange series of posters caught his eye. He slowed to a stop in front of them, wondering at the meticulously drawn image of a dragon wrapped around a sword. It seemed to be an advertisement for some kind of mercenary group. Something twinged within him before he quickly stifled it. A hired sword. It felt beneath him even if a payroll wasn’t much different. Angeal would have taken it out of the simple principle of helping those in need. Genesis would have done it for the money. But Sephiroth had neither Angeal’s honor nor Genesis’ low standards. He had a sense of pride that refused to be compromised.
But that left him with...what exactly? Sephiroth glanced at the poster again, reluctantly memorizing the address before turning to take his leave. Perhaps if his boredom overcame him. Perhaps if he needed a hobby…
He felt the vibrations under his feet before the earth groaned beneath him. In a second, the whole street was trembling beneath him, rocking and churning like the deck of a ship. Sephiroth grounded his stance as civilians screamed and ducked for cover. An earthquake.
He dodged backwards as the street in front of him cracked and caved in on itself. Forty feet to ahead, he heard the groan of collapsing wood and a childish screaming. His eyes caught her in an instant -- a girl of maybe seven standing frozen and dumbstruck under a doorway about to collapse. He moved on instinct alone, dashing ahead and diving for her, wrapping her in his arms and rolling on impact, careful to shield her along the way. They hadn’t hit the ground before the arch fell in on itself, showering them both in debris.
Sephiroth quickly dropped her and stood to straighten himself. The vibrations were quieting now and so were the cries of fear. Far away, someone wailed mournfully. He kept his eyes sharp, ready for any further disaster. If it was an earthquake, then it would likely come with-
Small arms wrapped themselves tightly around his waist. Sephiroth recoiled instinctively, grimacing down at the embrace and the girl it belonged to. She shoved her face directly into his armored plate, sniffling with free flowing tears.
Sephiroth stared at her. What was he supposed to do?
”Y-you-you s-saved me!” The words came jagged and breathless. Still, Sephiroth’s mind conjured no words. He cast his thoughts desperately to anecdotes of childhood from both Angeal and Genesis. They came back with nothing.
”Yes.” The word came slow and delayed. Was he supposed to comfort her? Is that what one did with a crying child?
His hands were raised defensively. He lowered them slowly.
”You have to help!” The girl clutched at the hem of his coat, looking up at him with puffy, reddened eyes. ”Mom and-and my sister! They’re still-!” Her voice broke into another sob and she shoved her face against him again. Sephiroth glanced towards the collapsed building. There were no voices from inside.
”It’s pointless,” he said. The girl froze and looked up at him, eyes slowly widening in horror.
”Wh-what?”
”The likelihood of casualties is high.”
She stared at him without understanding, eyes wavering and tears still streaming down her cheeks. Sephiroth hesitated. What would Angeal have said if he saw him now? ’There is no strength without honor.’
He sighed. ”I’ll try.”
The girl burst into tears again, and he wondered briefly if he’d done something wrong. Then he freed himself from her grip and leaped to the top in a single bound. The building had completely collapsed. The debris on the upper floors would be less concentrated.
Yet once he reached them, he found himself perched uncertainly atop a half broken wall. The building was entirely in shambles, the floor unsteady, the doors blocked. Sephiroth had never been trained for rescue missions, and he could only guess as to how they worked. Was he supposed to dig through wood and stone with his hands? Should he break through the rubble by force or would that only destabilize the structure further?
With no obvious direction, he simply stood there analyzing the situation for the best point of attack. Below him, he heard the girl’s continued cries.
Delita expected Torensten to be his launching point to re-establish himself within the economy of the well-to-dos and persons of interest and influence. Mercenary work was from what he was chiseled in his youth, but finding straight forward work in this city was nothing like being back in Ivalice. His talent as a worthy sword and shield served its purpose, but the market yearned for savvy ears and swollen purses as much as it did labor. He tore down a poster near a merchant's tincture and salve tent to admire the artwork more closely. Decorated with a great scarlet dragon, head skyward with pride, pronged tongue lashing through the air. It nestled across its chest and around its tail a golden claymore with a decorated cross shaped hilt that radiated light upward, parting the ominous clouds into pale blue sky.
He didn’t bother to read the message, pressing his hands together as if a child shaping his first snowball of the winter, making a loud and tangled mess out of the empty promises of fame and fortune before they manipulate another sellsword into being someone else’s pawn under the guise of the greater good. “Heroes don’t slay dragons. They build empires, and they certainly don’t take orders.” He let the ball of parchment bounce at his feet before it was swept away in an abnormal breeze. His attention was drawn to discord brewing just blocks away.
His ears began to ring. Deafening drones as he felt his eardrums shaking, drowning out now screams from the houses and streets around him. Wares and goods from all over the plaza were thrown skyward as victims of collapsing buildings and crumbling cobblestones sought cover. He ran into the center of the plaza, away from the buildings as they toppled like sand castles at high tide, and hid amongst the debris of a trading cart that had been ripped in half by the terrified chocobo that had been pulling it .
He could see in the distance a gaunt mercenary in all black tending to a small crying child that he has saved from the dilapidated remains of a small home. Sobbing, she begged him to help her family, presumably entombed in the rubble. But he wasn’t reacting to her pleas. He was standing virtually stone faced as though the fleeting moments he had to react were simply passing thoughts. “It’s pointless. The likelihood of casualties are high.” he finally said to the girl, glancing and the nearly impassable mass of stone, splinters, and fragments of furniture that littered the streets.
Delita remembered the impossible hand he was dealt when trying to save Teta from her death at the hands of mercenaries who had no sense of honor. How they could bare to watch as she was ripped from this world by the gluttony of their schemes and self interest. No one, for even one second, thought to give her a sliver of a chance.
“If you do not do anything, the chances of casualties are inevitable!” Delita belted as he sprinted towards the man and the child. “Get moving now before this gets any worse, and give these people the same chance of survival you gave this girl!” By the time Delita had arrived the man had inexplicably swung himself atop one of the remaining intact walls to survey the scene. He’s taking far too long again. The ground continued to shake as Delita kneeled next to the girl. “We’re going to find your family. Stay here away from the buildings where it is safe.” Waiting for any positive acknowledgement, even a glance or a nod, Delita could see that she wouldn't speak to either him or the stranger now out of entrenched despair.
Delita then turned and ran towards the stranger. “Do you see anything? How are we getting in?” He had already committed to not waiting for a response as he drew his sword and hacked away at the remnants of where the front door once was, listening for any signs of distress. A swift crack echoed from behind the ruined debris as supports within the structure shifted forward through the wall onto Delita, knocking his sword away and pinning him to the ground firmly by his greaves. He clawed at his legs, trying to pull them free as the scrapes and scratches of his gauntlets on the rubble and cobblestone screeched in a terror of self preservation. He could feel the ground begin to rumble again as the pile of chaos that was once home to this family slowly shifted in his direction once more...
Sephiroth’s eyes flicked to the man below him. A loud, abrasive man dressed in some kind of medieval armor like a storybook knight. He bellowed after him -- something about “getting moving” to “giving them the same chance of survival.” Sephiroth smirked at his chastising and stepped lightly off his perch to approach the rubble before him.
Somehow, his mind had sharpened in the presence of an over-confident novice. This was a scene that he knew well. Sephiroth drew his sword and eyed the top floors carefully. This was nothing more than an intricate puzzle built out of shattered glass, splintered wood, and stone. It would take a precision strike to break through to the lower floors without causing the whole thing to collapse like a tower of cards.
His eyes caught on a loose beam propping up a small pile of jagged stone and roof tile. He analyzed the angles, calculated the chances of collateral damage should he break it and plunge into the whole he created. After a moment’s thought, he raised his sword to strike.
”Do you see anything? How are we getting in?”
Sephiroth’s eyebrows furrowed, his concentration broken. ”Wait.” He found the angle again, readying his grip. He needed the perfect strike, the perfect timing, the perfect-
Wild strikes echoed below him like a lumberjack swinging wildly at wood. Sephiroth paused. The thought came sluggishly, slow with realization. The man’s sword strokes whistled with wind, the metal hacking away support beams. Sephiroth’s eyes shot open. He flit backwards, reaching out a hand towards the man even before he could see him over the edge. ”Stop!”
The building gave a sharp crack. Sephiroth was in the air before he heard the groan of failing support structures or the chain reaction snapping wood. By the time his boots hit solid ground, the building’s frontmost structure had already collapsed and pinned the man beneath it. He scrabbled wildly at the debris that held his leg like a snare, eyes wide. Inside, female voices cried out in alarm. The structure gave a trembling groan as the last support beams warped under pressure.
Sephiroth’s sword flicked in his hand. He dashed forward, raising it and slashing it sideways on instinct alone. It shattered the debris before him, thrusting it inward in a heavy dust. In the split second before the rubble fell, Sephiroth seized the man in one arm and darted backwards as though on strings. The man’s dragged him down, and he landed hard on one knee some eight feet away as the last support structures snapped and the building collapsed into nothing more than a heaping pile. A heavy wind blasted towards them, scattering them with ashen dust. Sephiroth’s eyes sharpened.
If this man hadn’t charged in...
He fixed the novice with a heated look. ”Think before you attack.” The words came scathing and deadly. He rose to his feet, straightening as he appraised the utter failure before him. What had once been a house of cards was now nothing but a rocky pile. No voices echoed from inside -- only one single, agonizing cry. The girl fell to her knees at the street’s edge. The sight wasn’t unfamiliar.
He watched her impassively before his fist clenched. ”Your carelessness cost lives,” he said without looking at the man. ”Mistakes are paid in blood.”
Delita coughed relentlessly as the building collapsed and debris flooded his lungs. Consciousness gave way to dizziness as he felt his momentum shift sharply away from the building. Sparks swarmed for shelter into the cracks across the ground as his pauldrons connected with cobblestones, inundating his ears with a howling singularity of a piercing tone embedded in his forehead. Yet this still did not drown out the screams among the cacophony, one of which he swore he recognized from years past. His vision burned white as he felt a rush like fetid dragons breath engulf him.
“Mistakes are paid in blood.” Delita snapped back into reality and thrust himself back to a standing position. He must have lost consciousness for a moment, but his companion was turned away and likely unaware. His eyes scanned dully from the broken down girl to the apparition that seemed to take the form of a man. The man’s stature perfectly blocked the sun from Delita’s vantage, leaving him with the sight of a inky punched out silhouette of the stranger against a backdrop of destruction. As the inky silhouette fell out of focus in the ripples of a head rush, it was hard to discern where his cape ended and his shadow began.
“Your wisdom only comes coupled with the power of retrospection.” Delita hustled to his blade in preparation for any impending moment requiring swift action. “You can observe the story and play the priest or scholar whose historical accounts and empirical observations of the world are inherently infallible as they are passed down through generations, regardless of whether or not the events themselves tell a different story altogether. Perhaps you could even rewrite some of those stories or theories closer to your liking if you were to see it fitting.”
Delita skimmed the fingertips of his glove across the edge of his sword and observed the tiny prisoner in the reflection before putting it away. “On the other hand, you could perform in the story instead and take the outcome into your own hands. Even if historians change the events and accounts of your actions later on, those words can’t take away from your conquest.” Delita shuffled his way over to the girl, painstakingly avoiding eye contact with either individual knowing that either one of them could pierce his resolve for their own reasons. “You can be an observer and use your accounts to suit your beliefs, but I will be the one who takes action.”
Delita turned back towards his companion. “You’re surprisingly calm given the circumstances. You are not here to cause havoc considering I am still alive, but your intentions were not to swoop in as a hero either. I wager you don't spend much time drafting notes with that sword, so I want to know why a character like you inadvertently ends up at the center of a catastrophe like this?” Delita grit his teeth as he could feel vibrations below his feet and hear the cracking of foundation periodically in the distance. “It would be in our mutual interest if you made this quick.”
I like how they play off each other on the basis of honor
I knew mine was a special existence
The novice did not acknowledge his mistake.
“Your wisdom only comes coupled with the power of retrospection,” he claimed. Nothing but an excuse. Sephiroth had dealt with more than his share of soldiers unwilling to shoulder their blame. To him, Sephiroth’s chastising was nothing more than the unjust blatherings of hindsight. If Sephiroth were to make a difference, he claimed, he would do better to use his sword than his tongue.
These accusations slid off him like water. Anger was not an uncommon reaction to failure.
’The one who takes action.’ Sephiroth gave him a dry look. ”It was your actions that killed those people. It would have been better had you done nothing.” At the word killed, the girl froze and stared at him in horror. She was beyond tears. Her hands trembled with shock.
Sephiroth paid her little mind.
The novice continued his tirade. How far would he go to defend his false honor? Sephiroth’s lips flickered with a smirk. ”A hero?” Those words meant nothing. There was nothing heroic in the sword no matter what the public told themselves. All that mattered were results. ”I have saved two lives today. Can you say the same?” Sephiroth flicked the dust from his sword and sheathed it at his side. He doubted he would need it again. So long as there were no aftershocks, this could be left to the town’s rescue teams.
”I don’t need to answer to you.” The man’s questions were insulting in themselves. He had sought to cause havoc? He had nothing but his sword? He’d drawn the center of a catastrophe? The disgraced would go to any measure to delude themselves. Sephiroth turned away, glancing over his shoulder to cast the man one last look of disdain. ”A master learns from his mistakes,” he said. ”A novice makes excuses. Which will you be?”
Sephiroth started away without another word. He didn’t need any.
“I won’t define myself in order to suit your narrative. You don’t have to answer to me, but you will still have to answer to yourself, whether it be today, tomorrow, or whoever your savior may be.” Delita grit his teeth hard enough to create audible pops as he considered taking a surprise strike on this stranger as he arrogantly turned away from the catastrophe that had unfurled in front of him. As soon as Delita grasped the hilt of his sword, ready to preemptively strike silently, the caped figure stopped right in his tracks. I’m clearly outmatched, and he was already many steps ahead of me.
“So you like to play number games?” Delita chirped without much thought, trying to steal the fire away from the draconian words of his opponent. “You have morbidly claimed to be the savior of two lives, so carefully take your two respectfully. No one will question your good deeds here, but your character will be judged by the entirety of your actions and purpose. You’re lucky I believe you don’t have malicious intentions.”
Delita gestured towards the devastation in surrounding the plaza. “If this is a world you’re willing to walk away from, then that is by your own right to do so.” His words had clearly fallen on deaf ears.
The stranger took his leave as Delita chose to remain motionless. The eventual silence after the storm was deafening. Delita turned once more to the young girl, simply trying to interpret the catastrophe of another pawn caught up in this unsavory game of chess. Delita grasped her right hand with both palms, but didn’t say anything. Everything about the exchange was cold, but there was no other direction to move.
“You’re going to be alright.” He reassured his young companion. “Let’s find a safe space to gather ourselves. We can sort out all of this out together."
