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"]"No. I was lost to these woods. I should be thanking you." So, this guy just happened to appear out of literal nowhere, stepped in to protect a complete stranger from a goddamned Tonberry, and he was the one offering an apology of sorts? Well, it was more like gratitude, but the admission made Theodore perk an eyebrow up in puzzlement.
After being asked a particularly redundant question, the knight introduces himself as Cecil, then asks for the mechanic's name. "Call me Theodore," he said, trying his best to remain polite in the face of all this mounting stress. "Just Theodore, though." He hated being referred to with shortened versions of his name; it always gave the engineer an impression that he wasn't to be taken seriously when people did this, or that he was being perceived through a juvenile lens. Respect is a street that goes both ways.
"I knew this place was shrouded in darkness, but I didn’t think... I've never heard of such a place." Yeah? Join the club, Theodore imagined with a sardonic flavor projected upon his inner voice, taking a cautious look at his surroundings while he held Flametongue with a vigilant grasp, metal clinking against metal as his prosthetic hand adjusted itself to suit a more comfortable angle.
In this brief window of respite, Theodore examined Cecil's armor with a curious eye. That was some pretty psychedelic armor he was sporting, and that sword and shield were nothing to joke about, with all its visual idiosyncrasies. Cecil's hair was whiter than his own, pure as driven snow, draped behind his form in such a way that would make even a fairy tale princess green with envy. Also, what the hell was up with that cape? Was he a knight, or some kind of medieval superhero?
Theodore captures himself gawking and blinks abruptly, shaking his head to get a hold of his senses and stay within the moment. "Sorry, I don't mean to stare. I just..." he pauses, hoping to be mindful of his next words, then continues on, "I'm not used to being a damsel in distress." He chuckled in a half-baked effort to cut into the tension that suffocated the pair at every angle, hoping to offer some humor in this hour of peril.
The sound of dead twigs being crushed underfoot rings out, reaching Theodore's ears from several meters away. He snaps his gaze in the direction where the noise came from, but is only greeted by hollow darkness. A blur rushes past, some kind of vague shape, obscured by the shadows and the choking fog that hugged the forest floor.
"Shit." Theodore curses beneath his breath. "I don't suppose you've got a flashlight on standby?" Realizing what he had just asked, the engineer shakes his head in mild embarrassment. Cecil probably didn't even know what a flashlight was, let alone have one stashed away behind that cape of his. "It's either that or fire, and I really don't want to sink this ship just to kill the captain." These trees looked dry and flammable, which meant using Flametongue as it was designed would have put the two at even greater risk than simply trying to outpace the Tonberry or whatever supernatural bullshit this place had in store for them.
Not to mention it would have probably pissed off some conservationists. If this had been Gaia, those AVALANCHE guys would have definitely thrown a fit.
Cecil stared at him -- at this lost stranger with the name of his brother and the colors of a Lunarian. Theodor. He felt his breath catch in his throat. Was the forest taunting him? If it was to reach within his heart and pull the darkness from within, would it be his brother’s face that he’d see? If he had to choose between the two, he would have said that Kain was real, and this man a product of his imagination.
But Cecil had always been one to extend the benefit of doubt. He would treat this man as though he were any other. Even if the name faltered on his tongue.
”Theodore.” He smiled weakly. He wouldn’t use it again. It carried with it far too much pain.
”A damsel?” He gave the man a curious look. That was certainly an odd thing to say. The stranger laughed. Cecil smiled to himself. ”I don’t think so.” It sounded like something Edge would have said. He was always quipping to himself. Cecil wondered where the Eblan prince was now. His mind was seized in visions white stone and black, inky sky. Was he still on the moon? Had he even survived?
A branch snapped behind him.
Cecil whirled around, eyes hard and hand at the hilt of his sword. He stepped instinctively between the sound and his companion, shield readied in their defense. He could see nothing. The fog was too thick -- too complete. Cecil could do nothing but wait.
A flashlight? Cecil glanced to his ally in confusion. Was that a spell? The man corrected himself and Cecil returned his gaze back to the fog, tense and itching with suspense. Flash Light. Perhaps Rosa would have known it.
”I am no mage.” Only a Paladin. His spells were limited and weak -- compared to an acolyte of the light at least. He could heal them as needed, but if something truly evil lurked within the fog…
There was a quiet shuffling along their right side. Cecil adjusted himself between it and his ally.
”Show yourself!” He felt eyes upon him -- cold and malicious. He couldn’t pinpoint their source, and the thought prickled at the back of his neck. They were entirely exposed. If something had prepared an ambush…
”Cecil.” It was only one word -- that single, booming word in a gravelly bass. It struck Cecil where he stood, freezing his heart. He whispered the name he knew far too well.
”Golbez.”
His fist tightened. Was this an illusion? He looked from one side to the other, peering desperately for some flicker of shadow or a suit of armor in a hulking silhouette. There were no patterns within the swirling mist. Nothing, but…
Was that a dragon? He stared at the face that had formed before him, formed from solidified fog like an eidolon. Like her eidolon. Rydia. And her mother.
In a breath, it was gone.
”What is happening?” It was hardly more than a mutter. He glanced desperately to his companion. For the first time, fear lit his eyes. ”It’s the forest. It must be.”
[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 fog grew more opaque and coiled between the dead trees like clusters of hungry serpents, Theodore could practically feel the anxiety resonate from Cecil, who seemed to choke on the sound of his name as it left his lips with palpable hesitation. Did this guy know somebody else who called himself that? The one-armed city slicker could only assume as much; but now wasn't the time to press the issue. That Tonberry was still lurking about in the darkness, waiting to ambush the pair when they least expected it.
"I am no mage." What? Theodore had certainly seen that one coming, given his openly medieval air and highly formal affectations, but Cecil's vast leap in logic between flashlights and magic still caught the grease monkey by surprise.
"N-No, it's like a..." Shit. How do you explain something to somebody that doesn't have a single clue to work off of? Thankfully, Theodore knew precisely how to illustrate the idea to his unlearned companion-for-the-moment. "It's like a lamp, but smaller, and throws its light forward in a beam."
Based on that description, however, Theodore began to realize how it might have been construed as a kind of spellcraft. It made the tinkerer wonder about how Cecil might react when he starts letting shots off with his revolver. But, last time he checked, ghosts weren't weak to bullets.
Crunch.
Just as the knight had, Theodore swivels himself to face the direction Cecil was looking. Unlike the saintly warrior, however, nothing greeted the machinist except the bitter chill of isolation, and a sinking feeling that they were both being watched from afar. "Show yourself!" Sure, let's just draw attention to us, Theodore mentally complained, unaware that the white-haired swordsman was being toyed with by negative forces -- that is, until he spoke a single name: "Golbez."
Theodore's mouth pursed shut. He had heard quite a few names that carried a distinctive menace behind them, but none quite like the one that just escaped from Cecil's lips. The caped crusader gives him a look of genuine worry, completely betraying his own noble image with an expression utterly based in humanity, one that Theodore could not fault him for. "It’s the forest. It must be."
A thought crosses his mind. "Or, it's that little green bastard." He was, of course, referring to the knife-wielding menace still at large, but Theodore tried to offer a rational explanation against these supposedly supernatural influences. "I take it you've never seen a Tonberry, either?" The inquiry was rhetorical in its nature. "They're urban legends where I come from. They say that one appears whenever something really evil happens to a person." Theodore plumbs the depths of his memories like fingers flipping through the faded pages of a storybook, trying to recollect every scarce piece of information he had learned about these supposed creatures of lore. "They only exist to make everybody suffer. Getting killed by one is supposed to be even worse, from what I've heard."
"You're lucky the Don's feeling generous tonight." Theodore's heart nearly stops. Beads of cold sweat form at the peak of his brow. The engineer's instincts scream for him to turn around, but the rest of his body resists every attempt to do so. But Theodore knew. He knew who this was. "Let this be a lesson to you, runt."
Without any sort of forewarning, his right arm suddenly goes haywire with incomprehensible agony, causing Theodore to issue an anguished scream as he dropped Flametongue against the gnarled roots and withered grasses while the rest of his body falls on both knees. Desperately, he tries to clutch at the metal replacement, but even though they are able to grip furiously against the mythril alloy plates, his fingers feel nothing between them whatsoever. He looks down -- and sees an empty space where polished blue should be.
Terror and pain stabs through Theodore's every nerve like an endless fusillade of needles. My arm is gone! Where is my arm!? What happened to my arm!? He screams again, unable to hold his composure any longer. The forest had claimed its first mind, and would now focus its efforts on breaking Cecil's, by any means necessary.
Making matters even worse, his wails of torment had triggered a reaction from the haunted canopies. Closing in on the pair was a cacophony of hideous shrieks and the discordant flapping of leathery wings, and it was approaching with a most terrible speed.
