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.
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Post by The Nameless Tonberry on Apr 1, 2024 8:34:42 GMT -6
Oh, no, they really sounded rather different, chickadee-for-dermal decorative art and titty frittata, an expression to which Grudge had to give some serious consideration before ultimately translating it as ‘scrambled breasts’, which in turn made them think not of exchanges taking place, but rather of the engines within Mikkel’s airship for reasons beyond even their own understanding.
“Your open-mindedness comes as a relief. You may now state your price.”
It took them several moments of serious reflection to realise that they did not in fact have much at all to offer in return. Certainly not on their person, and not at that moment, at any rate. Still, they had learnt enough about the nature of trades to know that a payment needed not take place before, during, or right after the service it compensated, even if it entailed a risk for they who offered the service.
At the same time, all that Grudge risked facing was for the warrior-flamingo to say no, which would have resulted in nothing more than a thoroughly unchanged situation. Patiently, they waited for an answer.
Grudge’s eyes, at first locked with the warrior-flamingo’s, broke contact after many more seconds of pregnant silence, and travelled instead to that at which the man was actually looking. What they were now seeing was their own right arm, and the knife at the very end of it. “I see,” they said, if only to fill the silence. They realised that their arm was now trembling. “You would set me free, yet rob me of my function.” Virtually infinite possibilities would await them outside, but with no direction for them to take. Even if they somehow discovered their purpose in this world, how would they fulfil it? A sword without a blade was no more useful than a sword without a wielder.
Yet, something had to change. A forest had to burn down to ashes before a new one could grow in its place, as somebody had reminded them once. One should never disprefer uncertain future over certain stagnancy.
They inhaled sharply. “So be it.” They raised their arm towards the warrior-flamingo, with the knife’s end pointing at him much in the same way a compass’s needle pointed north. “You may take it. I shall entrust you with what is to come. If you fail, I will claim it back. Still, you said you are the warrior-flamingo who makes the impossible possible. My hope is thus that it will not come to that.”
Post by Gilgamesh! on Apr 24, 2024 13:36:26 GMT -6
The ambient sounds of the forest are all that fills the space between Gilgamesh and the Tonberry in need of his aid, who had just been issued a choice so monumental it undoubtedly qualified as both cruel and unusual, even by the swordsman's own boisterous standards; in order to be liberated from the Wanderwood's arboreal clutches, they would have to voluntarily surrender the very knife that served as their anchor and badge of purpose.
A strong warrior can disarm an opponent with a sufficient amount of brute force, but it takes a clever and resourceful warrior to understand that there are other ways to achieve the same result, especially if such a method reduces the odds of having to spill blood needlessly. Intelligent thoughts have always followed Gilgamesh, but most of the time he was also significantly much faster than them, and so it was, in this moment, that it took him a handful of seconds to allow the subtle genius of his bargain to fully sink in, to which a sly smirk formed on closed, painted lips.
The critter in burlap's thought process was as ponderous as their distinctive means of ambulation, yet the shivering of their arm served as a tell. From an emotional perspective, this was less of a choice and more of an ultimatum. Was the price of freedom truly worth giving away that which symbolized their entire existence? Not even Gilgamesh seemed aware of the deeper ramifications that such a trade would bring about for the Tonberry, but he didn't seem too perturbed by this, seeing as there was no use in worrying about a future that had yet to be realized.
The Tonberry's answer would swiftly speak for itself. Slowly, the yellow-eyed monster lifted their arm up in presentation, aiming the blade's point at the towering warrior in motley colors, and announces that the knife is his to take on the grounds that it would be reclaimed if he should fail to complete his appointed task. Bold words, even for an unarmed Tonberry.
At first, Gilgamesh blinked in moderate surprise. That actually worked? He didn't even have to mention the knife at all! Usually, he'd have to fight someone in order to stake a claim on their weapons afterward, but to have somebody just give him one? And, as payment for doing some light hiking through the woods? Talk about literally trailblazing his way into a potential career! With the small quantity of functioning brain cells still available to him, Gilgamesh made a cognitive note to explore this prospect at a later point in time, once they were finally clear of this accursed forest.
“That all depends on whether we get ambushed by monsters,” said Gilgamesh as he gingerly removed the knife from the Tonberry's featureless hand, “But, from the look of things, this place doesn't exactly insinuate 'end-game content', so I genuinely doubt we have anything worth fretting over right now.” Blank white eyes drink in its details. The lack thereof. With meaty fingertips, Gilgamesh carefully manipulates the knife to inspect its properties more closely.
For a piece of ordinary kitchenware, there was nothing amateur about its material composition; not a single loose part anywhere. The blade practically sparkled underneath the sun-dappled treetops as he examined the cutting edge, recognizing a prominent double bevel grind which made it suitable for ambidextrous use. The handle's grain felt smooth yet porous to the touch, meaning he wouldn't lose his grip on it, even if his palms turned sweaty, and appeared to be made of chestnut wood. Using the fingers on his free hand, Gilgamesh flicked the knife twice in rapid succession. Tink tink. His eyes widen with visible shock. He could even hear the quality of the steel!
Determined to obtain a proper feel for its weight and balance, Gilgamesh gently tossed the implement up, let it fall back into his hand, then proceeds to make use of every part of it to spin and twirl the knife around and around as though it were devoid of mass altogether, carving delicate circles and beautiful arcs through the air with more grace and dexterity than even the most well-trained knife jugglers and hibachi chefs. He would even make use of his other hand to perform the same series of nimble flourishes to identical effect. What had potentially appeared like a dynamic performance of whirling sharp steel was actually much closer to a lukewarm training exercise for the sake of becoming accustomed to the knife's idiosyncrasies.
Once he had attained a sense of comfort with it, Gilgamesh brandished the weapon one last time until it rested in a back-handed grip, allowing him to subsequently tuck it inside the girdle that covered his waist. “Color me pleased! You Tonberries really know your way around some excellent cutlery,” he said in a genuine effort to compliment the creature's apparent sensibilities regarding weapon management. Maybe that's why they had a reputation for being such vicious little murder machines?
“It is decided, then!” Gilgamesh loudly annnounced, pumping a clenched fist eagerly. “On my solemn vow as a warrior, I will escort you from this wretched copse, and I will not cease in this effort until you savor the taste of freedom once more.” As he said this, a single glance down at the Tonberry gave him cause to propose a more efficient vehicle for realizing their shared objectives. “But, if I'm being truthful here, it'll probably go much faster if I just carried you the whole way.” Not only had he taken their only means of self-defense, but Tonberries were just as infamous for their sluggish locomotion, and though he would rather meet his end in glorious battle, Gilgamesh would much rather use his own Time Slip spell and turn himself geriatric than allow it to happen naturally while they searched for an exit. At the very least, dying of old age was a much better alternative than dying strictly out of boredom.
Post by The Nameless Tonberry on May 3, 2024 13:49:28 GMT -6
Monsters. Grudge had not considered them. Inside that forest, that which would try to kill them was not to be feared as much as that which would – and did, successfully – make one lose their way, repeatedly, for days and weeks at end. A monster would die when stabbed, and many monsters also died when they were stabbed; numbers did not make a difference. A forest, on the other hand, could not be stabbed, even if one could stab every single tree trunk in it, and then every bush. A forest was more than the sum of its parts, and that forest in particular even more so. Monsters were not.
“You are correct. It is not the monsters of these lands that one ought not to anger,” they said, taking note of the expression ‘end-game content’ and making a point of figuring out what the content and the game were. “Yet, should it come to that, I will ask to have the knife back, so that I may stab the monsters and prevent our efforts from being in vain.”
As the warrior-flamingo evaluated the quality of the knife, Grudge could do nothing but stare intently, and wait, and conclude that the warrior-flamingo did not know what a knife was for, for the knife spun and danced in the air and tinkled under his fingers flicks but it never stabbed. An irony utmost, for their a function to lose itself its function. But if the knife was no longer their own, bestowed to a somebody with the gift of creativity, perhaps its function had already changed.
So, if they were no longer their World’s, what was their function?
Grudge did not flinch when the warrior-flamingo erupted into a powerful shout and announced anew their resolution, only to find themselves, to their own surprise, at a momentary loss for words when they advanced an idea how. Truly, one needed a mind most special to make the impossible, possible.
“You would turn swifter when more weight is placed upon your shoulders?” They asked in marvelled perplexity. “If that is true, then that would truly be proof that you can make the impossible, possible. Fine, then. I shall trust your back.”