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
Welcome one and all to our beautiful new skin! This marks the visual era of Adventu 4.0, our 4th and by far best design we've had. 3.0 suited our needs for a very long time, but as things are evolving around the site (and all for the better thanks to all of you), it was time for a new, sleek change. The Resource Site celebrity Pharaoh Leep was the amazing mastermind behind this with minor collaborations from your resident moogle. It's one-of-a-kind and suited specifically for Adventu. Click the image for a super easy new skin guide for a visual tour!
Final Fantasy Adventu is a roleplaying forum inspired by the Final Fantasy series. Images on the site are edited by KUPO of FF:A with all source material belonging to their respective artists (i.e. Square Enix, Pixiv Fantasia, etc). The board lyrics are from the Final Fantasy song "Otherworld" composed by Nobuo Uematsu and arranged by The Black Mages II.
The current skin was made by Pharaoh Leap of Pixel Perfect. Outside of that, individual posts and characters belong to their creators, and we claim no ownership to what which is not ours. Thank you for stopping by.
[attr="class","dilyrics2"]It's no fucking discussion, I'm hard as granite I hope my vocal chokes you then
[attr="class","dilyric2"]orbits the planet
[attr="class","dibody2"]Legend has it that the Headstone Forest is a place of spiritual torment. Men who have died here find their souls anchored to the realm of the living, bound by regret and sorrow, unable to depart for the afterlife, forever doomed to wander and drift between worlds. If there is such a thing as gods and deities, what compels them to envision this kind of unspeakable torture, the unrelenting agony of never knowing true peace after death, as part of their so-called 'grand design'?
These were not the sort of philosophical ruminations that concerned more ordinary folks, like the self-trained mechanic Theodore Kardos, who was forced to navigate these lonely and forbidden thickets in the hopes of returning back to the luminous city of Sonora. His chocobo, a rented mount, had completely abandoned him to the unforgiving elements for reasons even Theodore could not yet fully grasp, but ones he harbored mild resentment for all the same; the experience left him sour enough to prioritize getting a vehicle of his own, preferably one without feathers.
Fortuitously, Theodore was not completely devoid of a means to protect himself from the dangers that lurked within the Headstone Forest. Tucked beneath his left arm, securely holstered and hidden from view by his shabby blue coat, was an impressive custom revolver of his own making, fully loaded and ready to be drawn against whatever -- or whoever -- was unlucky enough to jump out at him. Perched against that same shoulder was an equally ornamental-looking sword as long as Theodore was tall, decked from pommel to point with elaborate mechanical fixtures that was certain to raise questions about whether or not it proved anywhere remotely practical for live use in combat.
But Theodore was always the cautious sort; living on the streets taught him never to lower his guard for anything, and a spooky forest would be no exception to this rule, especially when considering the sort of vile creatures, vicious cutthroats, and other damnably transcendent terrors what lurked inside its shadowy depths.
An idea brushes against the fore of his thoughts. Note to self: make an arm that can punch ghosts, when convenient. Anyone else would have probably believed this concept was stupid or unrealistic. But Theodore was never the type of person who valued the opinions of the peanut gallery, anyway.
Cecil left the mountain blindly. He had no map, no direction, and no idea where he might have woken. With no particular destination in mind, he journeyed west along the best paths available to him. At day, he traveled with his sword ready and his eyes set. At night, he sat beside a lonely fire and had eyes only for the sky.
It was empty and black and pricked with stars. There was the moon, silver and small, and beside it -- nothing. The second moon was lost, and with it, its guiding light. Cecil laid back, hand at his heart, and felt as though he might fall into the dark space it had left behind. Where were his friends? Rosa? Kain? Where was the place they’d left behind? And where was Zemus?
No matter how Cecil closed his eyes, these thoughts remained.
Now he found himself along a forest path thick with the scent of damp earth and rotting leaves. The villages he’d passed has warned him of the darkness that awaited him. Stay along the path. The forest, they said, had a mind of its own and would try to lure him into its depths. He had smiled, nodding once in his understanding. He had known darkness and met it in kind. No spirit could lure him back to its grasp.
He felt them watching him. Waiting. The sense wasn’t obvious at first -- nothing but shadows scurrying behind the treelines -- but as the afternoon fell away beneath the heavy treetop canopies, the gloom pressed in like something suffocating. This was not a place of light. Just as the villagers had warned, something lurked within these woods. He felt its too-intelligent eyes peering back at him, waiting for a single misstep.
Something cracked behind the foliage, and Cecil stiffened, hand tight at his sword. For a moment there was nothing but a muffled silence and the distant sounds of chattering birds. He squinted into the gloom, prepared for some monstrous form or apparition. What emerged instead was a set of armor.
At first, he could hardly comprehend what he was seeing. Glinting black metal. A sharp-edged helm. Cold eyes and lips set into a line. Cecil jolted back, eyes wide as he felt a single word leave him.
”Kain?”
Kain smirked coolly and turned, hand at his holstered spear. Cecil stared at him. ”Kain.” His breath returned and he stepped forward, breathing a sigh of relief. ”I thought I’d lost you. After Golbez. After Zeromus. Do you know what-?”
Kain started into the forest.
”Wait!” Cecil raised a hand, reaching to him, but Kain didn’t hesitate. In seconds, the shadows had taken him, and Cecil was left alone.
He ran.
His feet clamored on uneven ground. He pushed aside unbroken foliage and ivy, hardly wincing at the scratch of sharp branches at his cheek. The path was lost to him, and he couldn’t have cared less. Somewhere beyond him was Kain -- his friend -- lost to a darkness he could hardly see. Why did he not stop to face him? Why was he always turning his back? Why, when there was no Zemus, no Golbez, nothing to tear them apart…?
He stumbled, breathing hard. He heard nothing else. No footsteps. No trail. Where was he? Cecil regained his balance and turned in all directions. Everywhere there were only trees. Where had Kain gone, and where was the…?
Path. Cecil’s stomach sank. Had the forest lured him away? Had Kain been nothing more than an illusion? Despite the question, he still felt the pull of his own conscience. If he was here, how could he leave him? How could he even think to? And yet…
”Is someone there?” He raised his voice, stepping forward in a direction he didn’t recognize. Beyond him were there...footsteps? They seemed nowhere and everywhere at once. In these hushed woods, there was no pinpointing them. It could have been friend or foe or nothing at all.
[attr="class","dilyrics2"]It's no fucking discussion, I'm hard as granite I hope my vocal chokes you then
[attr="class","dilyric2"]orbits the planet
[attr="class","dibody2"]A fell wind rattles the dead branches with a menace that sends Theodore's skin virtually crawling all over. He slips his right hand ever closer to Lapis Blume, brushing a metal finger against the polished wood furniture. Every step he takes deeper into the woods is a reminder of his intrusion, that he was not welcome here in this place of misery and woe. Well, the feeling was entirely mutual, Theodore pondered with a sullen scowl across his face.
The more he pressed on, the blacker and more dense the shadows became. Eventually, Theodore could barely see the path that lay before him, the treetops were so closely packed together. When his boots pressed into a patch of wet mud, a loud squelch followed, and all forward momentum suddenly ceased. "Damn it..." Theodore complained, tugging his foot to break it free of this soft, earthen shackle.
Hushed whispers drift through the forest. Voices? Was somebody else here, too? Theodore glanced nervously all around him, but is only greeted by his own sense of uncertainty. Paranoia sets in when the phantom sounds roll past his ears once again. Leave now.
"You don't have to tell me twice..." He shook his head in disbelief; Theodore never imagined himself trying to rationalize hold a conversation with his own auditory delusions, and yet, here he was. "Get a hold of yourself. It's just the wind." It takes another series of yanks for Theodore to release the mud's grip on his foot before he could finally press on.
But as soon as Theodore lifted his gaze upward, he could feel his heart shrivel with a kind of fear that could only be described as primitive, instinctual. A single luminous ball of orange light hovered in the distance, inching its way ever closer to the metal-armed mechanic. Leave this place. Without even hearing the words be spoken, Theodore had no difficulties correlating them to this new and unknown anomaly.
The glowing sphere came even closer. Theodore cannot stop his arm from drawing Lapis Blume out of its holster and pointing its twin barrels at the encroaching presence. "Stay the hell away from me!" His voice is hesitant and full of doubt, made only worse when the flickering light continued to loom its way towards Theodore. "I'll blow your head off, goddammit!"
As if Theodore had tempted fate itself, a head did reveal itself from behind the ominous orange glow. Green and smooth and lacking a mouth or ears of any sort, its only visible features were two circular eyes that peered back at him with an utterly blank, soulless glare. A brown cloak obscured the rest of the being's diminutive form, but this did nothing to quell the storm of anxiety that raged within Theodore, especially now that he could see what had confronted him. The silver knife alone was a dead giveaway.
He had never seen one for himself, but now? Theodore was face to face with a creature of inscrutable nightmare, an agent of death itself, driven to consume the souls of the damned. Terror froze his body stiff. They say that Tonberries appear before the guilty to judge them for the weight of their sins, but Theodore could not grasp the full extent of what lied within his own soul. The only crime he had committed, as far as he was currently aware of, was being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Theodore would pay the price, and no one would mourn his loss.
Cecil froze. A voice. A man’s voice -- but not Kain’s. He turned towards it, but could see nothing through the wall of branches and leaves. The forest seemed to mock him in its darkness. You are lost. There is nothing you can save.
”I'll blow your head off, goddammit!"
The language. Cecil didn’t know what to make of it except that the man was in trouble and desperately. He gave one last hesitant glance towards the shadows before he started towards the voice. Kain, if he’d been there at all, could wait. There were more important matters at hand.
He pushed his way through thorns and ivy. The branches snapped at the force of his shield, and his feet tangled in the underbrush. It was as though the very trees resisted him in his quest. They would take their victim without his meddling. He would fight until the bitter end to see it from being done.
At last, he burst from the foliage in a shower of leaves and splintered wood. He was out of sorts, he knew, with his hair in tangles and his armor riddled with twigs. Still, Cecil wasted no time in finding his quarry, hardly sparing the man a glance as he threw himself between him and a strange yellow light. The man was silver-haired, oddly dressed, and clad in leather. He held a strange metal rod before him like a weapon, and Cecil nodded to him in acknowledgement.
”Can you fight?” His eyes set on the creature before them, and he paused. It was small. Remarkably small and armed with nothing more than a lantern and a butcher’s knife. Cecil’s eyebrows pricked with confusion. ”Is it dangerous?” He held his shield up defensively, sword brought forward and then brandished, ready at his side.
The creature shuffled forward. Slowly. Its beady eyes watched them with mysterious purpose. And still Cecil waited.
[attr="class","dilyrics2"]It's no fucking discussion, I'm hard as granite I hope my vocal chokes you then
[attr="class","dilyric2"]orbits the planet
[attr="class","dibody2"]As the emissary of doom crept ever closer, Theodore could feel the receptors in his false limb start to fail him, synapses misfiring, causing the great specimen of a handgun to tremble between metal fingers. Common sense be damned, he was afraid for his own life. When faced with a Tonberry, who wouldn't feel as if Death's very shadow had come to harvest their soul? Even the forest itself growned with haunting anticipation, ready to claim another victim for the the impending pyre.
But fate, or perhaps chance, seemed merciful enough to give Theodore one final glimpse of hope. From out of nowhere, a pale figure in colorful plate mail breaches the darkness bearing sword and shield, long white hair and a dazzling cape flowing behind beautiful porcelain features, almost as if he had stepped out of a fairy tale and into this grim, horrible reality. A true knight in shining armor, from the looks of it -- judging by how he looked right now, he must have heard the screaming and literally ran to his defense.
True to this image, the stranger unflinchingly slides between Theodore and this silent green ghost, this haunter in the dark, and tries to assess the situation with a series of questions. A mixture of emotions swirls within Theodore's heart. Part of him wants to express gratitude for the knight's wholly unplanned arrival, but another cannot fathom his willingness to admit that he had no clue what this creature was, or what it might be capable of.
The mechanic blinks out of sheer disbelief. "You're kidding, right?!" His sarcasm could not be any more caustic than it is right now. "These things are evil, dude. I've only heard rumors, but I never thought..." Theodore could feel his voice crack with hesitation. "Jeez, I never thought they were real." Having never left Midgar prior to arriving in this weird other world, Tonberries were typically a subject of old wives' tales and children's bedtime stories. To physically see one for himself was jarring enough.
But to fight one? Was this guy out of his goddamned mind?
Theodore attempts to fortify his rattled nerves with raw grit, clenching his teeth while artificial fingers clamped down tighter on Lapis Blume's wooden stock. Flametongue remained poised and ready, the safety turned off with a single flick of his thumb. "We gotta get out of here, man. They'll slit your throat without even blinking." The knife in its hand resonates with a confirmatory aura of malice, as if the grudges of all whose blood it once caked and splattered had tempered it into a weapon even assassins feared with every fiber of their lives.
With the gallant knight as his judge, and Theodore the jury, only the Tonberry sought to fulfill its destiny as their appointed executioner.
"You're kidding, right? These things are evil, dude. I've only heard rumors, but I never thought...Jeez, I never thought they were real."
Cecil glanced back, startled. This strange green imp? Evil? He thought it looked mischievous at least with its gleaming yellow eyes piercing through the fog. Perhaps it was a menace to the people of the area? Cecil doubted it was something beyond his capacity as a knight, but his companion seemed convinced otherwise. Something clicked behind him.
"We gotta get out of here, man. They'll slit your throat without even blinking."
He’d thought so. It hadn’t carried that knife without reason, after all. The thing had shuffled closer. Its color looked almost sickly lit by the putrid yellow flickering of its lantern. Its cloak was made of a stiff burlap. Cecil could easily imagine it as some kind of omen spoken of in folklore -- or perhaps a spirit meant to lure its unlucky victims off the path. The second option gave him pause. How could he leave something so dangerous alive when it could draw the blood of others?
”You think it best?” Cecil’s sword hesitated. The imp was almost in range -- both of his blade and its attack. Cecil would stand between it and its would be victim. He would strike it down if need be, but without his allies at his side…
He took several steps back. ”Lead the way,” he said. Cecil raised his shield, sword defensively at his side. He had spent too long running through these cursed woods. He half expected that the path would change, and that they would be doomed to wander these paths until the spirits were pacified, but that was not his choice.
He trusted his companions and their judgment. There was no use in aid given recklessly.
[attr="class","dilyrics2"]It's no fucking discussion, I'm hard as granite I hope my vocal chokes you then
[attr="class","dilyric2"]orbits the planet
[attr="class","dibody2"]Theodore had to exert additional effort into preventing himself from rolling his eyes at the clueless white knight; his confused visage alone revealed his lack of awareness to the fables and legends that surround the Green Death, butcher of souls.
Still, the Tonberry stayed true to its chosen path, staring at both of the humans with a dull, murderous intent. Theodore gulped. "Easier said than done..." he returns with a wry chuckle, glancing up at the shadowy forest treetops with nervous eyes.
Milky white wisps drifted above head, vapors emanating from a source unknown, carrying with it a scent of dirt and mulch. It evoked images of moldy tombstones and haunted mausoleums, ancient places long since discarded to the sands of time and history, forgotten and ignored. The hushed voices in the air transform into a noisy hiss, as if the forest itself had grown hostile to the pair of humans that were deemed its invaders.
This is great. I always wanted to die being dragged to Hell by ghosts. Theodore was certain he'd be kicking himself in the ass tonight, assuming he made it out of this in one piece. But if he was going to go down, he wouldn't do it without putting up a struggle first.
"Stay close, and keep your eyes peeled." Theodore instructs the porcelain knight with frank words, pulling Lapis Blume's hammer back to prime a shot in case he absolutely needed to rain down some lead. He gives the other man a serious glare, as if he were telepathically communicating the true gravity of their current situation. "It's gonna follow us, one way or another."
One particular nursery rhyme that stood out to Theodore described the Tonberry as a dogged pursuant of vengeance, never ceasing its advance on the guilty until it succeeds in plunging its knife into their hearts. But if children's fairy tales and bedtime stories are to be put aside for a moment, the Tonberry certainly brings a whole new context to the old adage, "Death waits for no one."
Mindful of Flametongue's immense size in relation to his companion by circumstance, Theodore began stepping back a few paces. "I'll think of something, let's move!" he insists with strained emphasis, aiming the iron sights of his revolver straight for the middle of the green phantom's eyes as the rest of his form melted into the ambient darkness of the woods.
It's one thing after another in the Headstone Forest
I will turn darkness into hallowed light
"Stay close, and keep your eyes peeled. It's gonna follow us, one way or another."
Cecil glanced to the stranger, taking several steps back to keep his distance from the shuffling imp. Fleeing wouldn’t work? But the imp could hardly more forward more than a few inches at a time. Would it unleash some unprecedented speed should it catch its prey in flight? With every word that the man said, Cecil felt his blood rise. Most likely, this was nothing more than a civilian scared by local legend. The imp would prove useless in the face of his sword, and yet…
Cecil nodded. There was no room for chances lost alone in the dark. If the man was determined to flee then Cecil would follow.
They took off at a run. Cecil followed the man’s lead, staying close to him with his sword out and his eyes peeled for an ambush. Like this, they would be easy to catch off guard. Cecil could sense the darkness lurking around each corner -- lying in wait. It was a place of monsters and spirits and, perhaps, visions. His chest felt heavy with unease.
Kain. Had he really emerged from these wild paths? How had the forest drawn his visage from Cecil’s mind? If indeed it had been a vision at all.
A thick fog rolled from the darkness, obscuring the path and the trail forward. Cecil slowed to a stop, squinting through the veil. It chilled him. Something about this mist felt alive. He could almost feel its whisper.
He reached out and grasped the man’s shoulder -- stopping him. ”We should watch our step,” he said. He could still see the shape of his companion, and with a moment to breathe, he could finally make out his face. The man had a hard look about him with his angled jaw and downturned lips. He wore a leather coat decorated in scales, and most startling of all (to Cecil at least) his hair was white. He stared at it for a short moment before shaking his head.
The only white-haired men he had known had all been Lunarian.
”We’ll see it coming. Its lantern light will give it away.” Cecil released his grip and looked behind them. There was no yellow light or indeed any light at all. ”We should take care going forward. This fog would lead us astray.”
[attr="class","dilyrics2"]It's no fucking discussion, I'm hard as granite I hope my vocal chokes you then
[attr="class","dilyric2"]orbits the planet
[attr="class","dibody2"]Knowing their efforts to flee the murderous green ripper would yield no practical fruit, yet determined to try anyway, Theodore cursed himself with every combination of foul words he could imagine. He hated this, fleeing from an enemy he objectively stood no chance against; the mechanic knew it was a cowardly thing to do, but conventional weaponry was almost guaranteed to fail against a being with spectral origins. He didn't expect the knight to understand his fears, only that he would judge Theodore for his lack of spine.
Like rabbits desperate to elude a pack of starving wolves, Theodore and his lordly counterpart beat their way through the inky shadows of the forbidden forest, dead leaves and brittle twigs crunching underfoot in a harrowing cacophony of noise as each step penetrated the dread silence. The deeper they ventured, the closer the gnarled trees seemed to squeeze in with claustrophobic menace, as if the woods themselves were attempting to directly prevent their escape, hoping to suffocate the pair for their trespasses.
Theodore vaults over a tangled mess of roots with a single athletic leap, followed closely by the other white-haired man, then permits himself a moment to slow down and catch his breath. When a thick screen of fog began to drift it way into view, the self-styled engineer prepared to continue his advance, but was stopped at the last moment by the knight in shiny psychedelic armor, who took it upon those massive pauldrons of his to remind him of the obvious facts with some sagely advice: 'watch your step'.
It was sound enough. "For what it's worth," Theodore said with a sigh, stuffing his egregious monstrosity of a hand cannon into the holster that lie tucked beneath his left arm, hidden by his navy blue jacket, so that he could grip his equally bizarre greatsword with both hands. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess." A metal thumb clicks the Flametongue's safety mechanism off, releasing the tension that kept him from accidentally triggering the sword's internal components.
A sense of paranoia settles itself deep inside Theodore, forcing him to grapple with the possibility that something -- or, perhaps, someone -- was watching their every move. The Tonberry, it seemed, would be the least of their worries.
Cecil watched the fog, eyes careful before finally sheathing his sword. He kept his hand on the hilt and ready to draw, but for the moment, it was quiet. This place had an uneasy aura. Cecil almost expected the laugh of some fiend in the dark, but there was nothing. Only the cold hum of magic, and the rustle of a distant wind.
”For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess.” His companion sighed and holstered his strange weapon inside his jacket. Cecil gave him a curious look and then shook his head.
”No. I was lost to these woods. I should be thanking you.” Harm’s way was a small price to pay to walk these paths alongside another. Though he suspected that the company might prove less helpful than he’d hoped. Cecil smiled sheepishly. ”You don’t happen to know a way out?”
After their desperate escape, he doubted it.
”Nevermind,” he said. He turned to face him. ”I’m Cecil. And you are?” Maybe this was the best time for introductions and maybe not, but if they were to be bound together then it was best to exchange them while they had the chance. Cecil was no stranger to new allies.
”I knew this place was shrouded in darkness, but I didn’t think…” Cecil’s eyes trailed to the fog and what he presumed to be the path beyond. He could see almost nothing. The treetops, their branches, the ivy beneath them -- all blind to him. ”I’ve never heard of such a place.”
