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.
Time had always passed strangely for Nero. Having spent nearly his entire existence underground, he only knew the concept of time as a rigorous schedule built by his trainers. When that schedule was dismantled in favor of simply chaining him up and leaving him to rot, time became an abstract concept once more. He knew time had to be passing. Things had to be changing. But, there was no sun rising and setting, no moon high in the sky, no reassurances. Maybe time was simply … paused, to maximize his suffering.
However now, he was free. And multiple times a day, the Tsviet found himself revisiting the very hole in the ceiling of the cave he’d fallen through, into the arms of his new purpose. His crimson eyes always searched for the light shining through, either from the burning, angry sun in the sky, or the gentle gleam of the moon and stars peering through the darkness. Days were passing. Time was real.
With each passing day, he seemed to learn something new. It didn’t take him long to map out the cave system with his darkness; reaching into every crevice and crevasse, becoming overly familiar with the landscape. Twice his magic overstepped its bounds and set off one of Kuja’s many traps -- leading to an embarrassed apology and internal berating. Stupid, careless. After the second time it happened, though, he learned. Learned how to see the trap, or to feel it. The darkness stayed away.
There were a few paths that the darkness did not dare infiltrate. Places that Kuja had insisted he stayed out of. He only knew one -- where the dragon roosted. The others were a mystery. But oh, how he longed to see what was down that path, to see that dragon. The darkness creeped forward and yet.
Yet.
Nero shook his head, coarse, black locks ruffling over his shoulders. His hand slid down from the cool, rocky surface of the wall, and he wrapped his arms around the skinny frame of his torso, out of habit, fingers scratching at the fine cloth of his tight, black shirt. He found himself here, day after day, staring down the darkened corridor he was not to travel. A frown tugged at his pale lips, red gaze transfixed toward the unknown.
It would hardly take much effort. The darkness could simply ooze down the corridor, and he could sneak a peek -- there and gone in seconds flat.
I want to see, I just want to see if it’s real, it would only take a moment, a mere moment, he’d never know he’d--
The Sable cut off the thoughts with another jerk of his head, scowling. Slowly, he’d been learning not to act on such impulses as much. It didn’t matter how easy it would be, how quick, how profitable for him personally. It would be a betrayal of trust, to the man he now owed his life to. Ah Kuja, Kuja, who taught him such useful things, who could stand to be around him, who smiled at him and spoke kindly to him. Even if it was a ruse, if it was fake, Nero didn’t care. There was still an effort made, and it was more than he’d ever been given before. He’d pay that back in kind, any way that he could.
Obeying commands was part of it.
Instead, Nero leaned back against the wall, and slid down to the ground. The cool stone felt nice against his back, which was still recovering from the years of extensive damage those mechanical wings had wrought on it. He closed his eyes and let his arms fall from his sides, fingers fidgeting and scratching at the coarse material of his pants.
He needed to relax, and to focus. It was something he’d been working on, in his efforts to control the massive power contained within himself. Without the mako to hold it back, Nero had found that emotional fluctuations made it much, much more difficult to control. Minor frustrations led to blackened, inky darkness soaking the area beneath his feet. The crippling, crushing despair he felt at times, in the dead of night, for his brother led to the darkness taking an entire room, and Nero finding himself adrift in his internal void.
So, in his downtime, he tried to learn. He was practicing meditation, or attempting to, despite the murmurs in his head; stupid, useless, waste of time, can’t control this, can’t control any of it, can’t control yourself, monster, monster. He had to try, not for himself, but for Kuja. While the mage’s presence often relaxed Nero, it didn’t bring him the same control as Weiss’ always had. Perhaps, he thought as he felt the darkness stir under his fingertips, he never had control around Weiss.
No, perhaps the darkness was intimidated by his Immaculate brother.
And so, Nero relaxed against the wall, trying to will himself to let go of all the thoughts, murmurs, chides and snarls in his mind. It was difficult to do so -- to think of something and then let it go. Thoughts of himself? Ah, those could go, thrown away for another time. Shelke? Stupid -- traitor -- idiot girl I’ll -- no no, later, later, let it go. Kuja? Ah, oh, no, this was always a problem. Seeing Kuja in his mind’s eye, he always got attached. Attached to that voice, to those eyes. His heart swelled, and he couldn’t let go. Latched. The darkness curled happily underneath his fingers -- he was failing again, but failing felt so sweet, so warm.
The Tsviet opened his eyes, and saw that inky darkness had crept across the floor, a few feet in front of him, stopping only because it was noticed. He glanced upwards, his face deadpanned, seeing that it had crawled up the wall as well.
And he sighed, irritated. Meditation. Manners. Learning to be a proper human was hard, when you’d acted on nothing but pure instinct most of your life.
Nero drew the darkness back to him, letting it disappear into himself. His arms wrapped back around himself, and he drew his knees close to his chest, dispirited and disappointed.
Someday, perhaps. Someday, he’d figure this out.
Rise and take flight, darling Let's soar high For the first time in forever you're alive Don't you forget that
I realize it's not much to go off of, but Nero was just sitting there so... xD
Why should the world exist without me?
Kuja's research had stalled.
It wasn't anyone's fault, really. Any theories -- even his -- had the possibility of failing, and even a mind as sharp as his own would occasionally run into mental blocks. It was all part of the inventive process, he knew, and yet as he stalked the musty halls lit by his own ethereal lights, he couldn't help but cast his mind on anything else to blame. Perhaps if this cave had been a tad more suited to his needs. Perhaps if he had free reign over this planet to search for supplies and inspiration. Perhaps if he didn't treat every outside step with caution, glancing over his shoulder for a righteous flash of white...
He wasn't afraid of the Warrior. Not in the slightest. But meeting him again would quickly become...inconvenient.
And so he thought it best to sequester himself until he'd built up enough power to meet any kind of resistance the Warrior could rally. He'd thought it would give him time to work on his inventions and his theories and his plots. Yet no matter how he tried, none of his efforts had paid off in the slightest.
How could he focus with that feral rat skulking around in the shadows?
Every day there was Nero. Every day, a new crisis to avert. A new lesson to teach. A new waste of his time. It wasn't as though Nero was begging for it of course, but his existence demanded it regardless. How many times had his accursed darkness tripped his traps and sent Kuja into a flurry of defensive magic? How many times had his eyes wandered or his rage overtaken him and Kuja had been given no choice but to reprimand him and instruct him on the basics of humanity? It was insulting. It was childish. It was...
Kuja stopped. The hallway of his lair was lit in the ethereal blue and violet flames he'd set along the upper precipices. Cold. Ephemeral. Had he chosen the colors subconsciously? With the hard stone beneath him and that blue light flickering in the shadows, it almost felt like...
Kuja scowled. Not home. Never home. Perhaps the desert palace one day once he had the resources and time. It was all a coincidence. Just an unfortunate slip of his hand. He ran a hand through his hair and started walking again.
He needed his dragon.
A flight would clear his head. Yes, that's what he needed. Just a flight to cleanse his thoughts and regain focus. He'd been underground too long. Too long in this musty air. Too long beneath that blue flame...
Kuja was so lost in his thoughts and so drawn to thoughts of wind beneath the dragon's wings that he almost didn't notice the man curled and sulking in the shadows. He'd almost passed him when he caught the familiar figure out of the corner of his eye and froze, magic ready in his hand. His fingers curled at the sight of him. Nero. Only Nero. Kuja swallowed back his quickened breath.
"My apologies," he said out of reflex. "I didn't notice you."
Perhaps he would have if Nero moved like a normal person. Or did anything normal, for that matter. The man was wasted and feral and wouldn't last forty-eight hours on his own without resorting to violence. Kuja touched his forehead and took several seconds to breathe before clearing his expression and straightening again.
"I'm going for a flight," he said without looking at him. "The dragon. I'd like to take to the sky." Why was he explaining anything to this man? Nero would have accepted a slap across the face as answer and thanked him for it. "Well then. If you'd excuse me."
A little rusty, but I'll get back into his crazy little head.
Nero wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there, curled up into himself. Vaguely, he knew that his hands were getting cold, fingers stiff as they clung to his sleeves. His legs were quietly aching, begging for him to rise, to move. After years of captivity, it made no sense for him to simply sit and hold himself close and tight -- he’d been bound to his own body for so long it was ridiculous, childish, strangely reassuring, but why -- why. He should have gotten up. He should have moved.
He should have done anything, before Kuja arrived.
The Tsviet heard the click of footsteps against stone approaching, but he couldn’t find the energy to rise. Here he was, the wonderful, near-perfect sorcerer that Nero owed so much of his new found life to, and the Sable couldn’t even muster himself to his feet. No, he was too busy being plagued by the thought of guilt -- of disappointment. He wasn’t improving fast enough. He wasn’t doing enough.
With Weiss, perfect Weiss, things had been easy. They couldn’t live as normal human beings. Nero was needed to behave as a frightening weapon, he was required to hone and master his skills as a murderer. That’s what they needed to do to survive. Nero had become the man he was, because of his dear, sweet brother. Weiss molded him. Weiss protected him. Weiss helped him become the fangs of a terrifying beast, always ready to bite, thrash and tear.
… But that time of his life, it was … over.
Kuja was helping him to become human. Something Nero knew, in the back of his mind, that he always was. And Kuja did so, despite knowing that the Sable was akin to a snarling beast, that hardly had a place in a normal world -- something that could be put down, buried, and forgotten..
Nero kept his head down as Kuja addressed him. Those velvet tones danced around his ears, and though the sorcerer was hardly talking to him as much as he was at him, the Tsviet still felt his head rise; drawn, to that voice. His red eyes peered through the darkness, studying Kuja as the man spoke, explaining why he was passing by. Even to Nero, who hardly knew the ins and outs of basic human body language, it was clear that Kuja was simply passing by, and had no intentions of speaking to him further at the moment.
Flight, on a dragon in the sky …
For a moment, Nero stayed silent, simply processing those words. Wondering what it must be like. To feel the wind against one’s face, to drink in the blue of the sky. To feel the sun warm their clothes as the air cooled them at the same time. He’d only known flight on a helicopter, for carefully watched missions, and never in a way so free. To be in the sky, just because you could be, on the back of a beast that could snap one in two in less than a second.
The thought brought a chill to the Sable’s spine.
As Kuja began to pass, Nero quickly pushed himself up. His body ached in protest of being curled up as long as it had, and for a moment his vision swam unpleasantly. Nero’s mouth was dry -- god knew the last time he’d actually spoken -- yet he still tried to form the words his spirit desperately wanted out.
“Wait,” Nero called out quietly, moving only a couple of steps from the wall, boots scuffing against the rocky ground under his feet, “Please.”
He wasn’t sure why that feeling had grasped at him. Why the need to feel free suddenly slapped him across the face like it had. Perhaps, he was tired of being curled in on himself; stagnant with his improvements. Maybe, he simply wanted to venture out of the stuffy cave, too similar to the underground where he’d spent most of his life. Perhaps, Nero simply wanted to stand in the presence of true power and freedom, if only for a moment.
Or maybe, he didn’t want to be alone.
“May I come with you?” The words came stronger this time -- still naturally quiet, wavering and flickering like the shadows against the wall, “At least, just to see your dragon for a moment. Please.”
Rise and take flight, darling Let's soar high For the first time in forever you're alive Don't you forget that
Kuja stopped. Nero had spoken to him. Well that was new.
”Wait.” There was a shuffle behind him. ”Please.”
And so he waited. Patience was one of his greatest assets, after all.
“May I come with you?” The words sounded like they surprised even him. “At least, just to see your dragon for a moment. Please.”
Kuja paused, taking the moment to scowl while his back was turned. He’d needed the escape to clear his head. He’d wanted to leave for the exact purpose of avoiding burdens like Nero, but he doubted that would get him anywhere. Yes, the man would still crawl back to him like the feral and pathetic creature he was, but it would be with less conviction. Kuja had earned his place in Nero’s esteem through his endless patience and charm -- breaking character would only weaken his puppet’s strings. For someone as unstable as Nero, fear would do nothing. Intimidation was meaningless. There was only one route to win his prize, and so Kuja tilted his head to the ceiling before waving his hand. ”If you wish,” he said. ”But you must tread carefully and do as I say. She’s still wary of strangers.”
He continued on without looking back at him. If Nero had any worthwhile conviction then he’d follow. If not, then it wasn’t worth his time.
His dragon had taken to resting in a collapsed antlion tunnel when he wasn’t around. She preferred the oasis, of course, but he’d deemed that too public -- too obvious when there might be prying eyes or Nero to stumble upon. Instead, he’d found another hollow nearby with air access and enough space to fit a dragon. Of course, such a private dwelling was too far to easily walk, and the tunnels from the oasis to her hideaway had long-since collapsed. Instead, he led Nero to a small alcove which he’d gated off with magic in the shape of his old stain glass windows. It melted at his touch, and he stepped forward onto a circle of magical sigils that pulsed a faint, ethereal blue in the shadows.
”The experience can be a tad disorienting if you’re not used to it.” He glanced at Nero before stepping into the circle himself. ”It helps to close your eyes,” he said with a smirk before he was engulfed in magic like rainfall. It had taken Kuja nearly a week to set up a teleportation link between his oasis and his dragon’s nest, but the convenience far outweighed the effort. In seconds, Kuja’s vision cleared and he stepped out into a familiar outcrop of rock and water.
And the sharp stench of rotting flesh.
His nose wrinkled in disgust, and the culprit wasn’t hard to find. He’d gone to great lengths to make his dragon’s nest appealing. He’d hollowed out the center underneath the skylight and used his own spells to fill it with water to protect her from the heat. He’d cleared it of debris and cleaned it nearly spotless except for the series of rocky precipices along the north side where she liked to roost. And as Kuja stepped into his miniature, self-made oasis, he found that it was exactly as he’d left it except for the over-large, half-eaten antlion dangling in pieces only a few feet from the portal.
His eyes sharpened. ”Ava.” He stepped off the teleportation circle and searched for her, lips pursed and arms crossed. He spotted her scrabbling down the south wall, and it didn’t take long for her to take to the air and glide towards him. She landed as gracefully as ever -- a testament to her species if not her individual personality. Kuja fixed her with a cool look before gesturing at the mangled mass of exoskeleton and fur behind him.
”How many times have I told you to deal with your prey outside?” The words came clipped in his native tongue. In all honesty, he didn’t strictly need to voice them at all, but he’d always found it easier to speak the words of his psychic conversations -- particularly if those words were Terran. He received a wave of foreign guilt in return as the dragon dropped her eyes and scuffed at the ground beneath her. There had been a sandstorm recently, and she’d wanted to eat in peace. ”Well you could have at least cleaned up after yourself,” Kuja spat in return before capturing the corpse in his magic and shifting it to the side. He’d deal with it when he wasn’t being watched.
None of his accomplices knew the meaning of manners.
”This is Ava.” He gestured towards his dragon, and it was only then that she seemed to realize that they weren’t alone. Her eyes caught on Nero, and she shifted at once into a more predatory stance -- crouched with her hackles raised and her mouth open. She wasn’t brutish enough to growl, but she did let out a low whine of desire until Kuja silenced her with a hand a look sharp enough to still her. ”He’s not for you,” he told her. ”Not yet.” And so she reluctantly backed down, straightening herself into a sitting position that would have been almost majestic had her eyes not been trained on Nero like a cat before a mouse.
Kuja sighed. Why did he always pick the neediest of pawns?
”You may step closer, but do so carefully. She hates being startled.” He did the same, approaching her delicately before placing a hand on the side of her neck to run his fingers through her feathers. It was a sign of her own distraction that she didn’t seem to take pleasure from it. All she could look at was Nero. ”I named her after Lord Avon -- a prestiged playwright and one of the most talented of his generation.” He sighed in longing. What he wouldn’t do to see a familiar theater again! ”As the sun lends me no ear, I pray instead to the twin moons! I beseech thee, wondrous moonlight, grant me my only wish!” His eyes wandered to the ceiling and the circle of moonlight that danced through it -- not the moons as he’d known them, but it was close enough.
”I suppose if you’re to leave this place, you’ll need my dragon to do so.” He didn’t like the idea, not at all and particularly not when it meant leaving his dragon in Nero’s care, but it was practical enough. What use was a pawn if he couldn’t send him out to do his bidding? ”Would you care for a flight?” Kuja’s eyes trailed to Nero’s, meeting his gaze before tilting his head and offering him a dry smile. ”I dare say the both of us have spent far too long underground.”
