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","bodytxtt"]“I do,” says the muscular swordsman, yielding Vayne a confirmation to his inquest while moving into a combat ready posture, lifting that monolithic slate of steel for a blade into his gloved hands. “Show yourself.” The desert's dry flavor turned sour within a single breath, and following this came a hostile granular curtain of gold and yellow particles that only the Emperor could recognize as familiar. The storm is resurrected once more!
Within seconds, the entire vicinity of the pilgrims' makeshift encampment had all but vanished behind a hurricane of sand and heat, spatially isolated from the great desert expanse and disconnected from the outside world altogether. Nature herself shrieks and roars at the humans, for they have transgressed the cruel balance of this godforsaken place by stepping foot here — and the dunes must take what rightfully belongs to them.
The laughter surrounds the stranded men from all sides, feminine, sultry in both tone and quality, yet equally possessed of a deceitful energy. Behind her playful hums and coos, the subtle hiss of a serpent's tongue echoed closely beneath every tinkling note. She was toying with them, and they could do nothing about it.
In the space of no less than three meters, the sands that formed the streets of this abandoned village began to shift and rumble around the hut that served as both Angeal and Vayne's shelter from the elements. The quivering was sufficient enough to cause the structure's fragile, weather-worn walls to break apart and turn to dust before their very eyes, exposing them to the one responsible for such an impressive and potent display of power.
As if wearing the raging storm itself as a veil to conceal her true face, a large and fearsome creature formed of equal parts woman and python, dressed in exotic silks and jewelry for the purpose of embellishing and mystifying an otherwise capricious and cunning natural predator. This particular specimen even wore a gem-encrusted tiara! Such headdresses were indicative of a unique evolutionary mutation that also behaved as a distinctive token of authority among their species, according to several respected scholars among the field of natural sciences.
Vayne could hardly penetrate the harsh screen of sand that concealed the beast's visage from view, but he could vaguely distinguish the presence of luscious scarlet hair that stretched as far down as her lower abdomen, where the portions that resembled human physiology began to morph into a heavier, more muscular, arguably serpentine shape. It appeared to be wearing a sash that implied some type of... royalty, perhaps?
His ability to glean for more details was interrupted when the reptilian-female hybrid quite actually slithered forward several feet, apparently unfazed by the soldier's immense weapon or his iron clad resolve to strike her down where she sat. She then released a smile that virtually oozed mischief the moment her gleaming amber eyes rested upon Vayne Solidor.
“You were able to resist my Sleep spell...” it tells him, provoking a rare sliver of authentic confusion from the normally stoic and unflappable Emperor. At last, the pieces began to fit together, thereby widening Vayne's perception of the greater problem; the storm is its means of trapping prey and obtaining nourishment. But this creature did not seem too thrilled with Vayne's wholly unintentional feat. “You were to be devoured by me...”
Understanding the situation a little better, even if its ultimate purpose continued to elude his rational mind, Vayne takes the opportunity to gently signal Angeal to stand aside, but still remain at the ready if his intended gambit took a non-productive turn for the worse.
“I am regretful to remind Your Excellency that I do not recall having violated any laws,” Vayne tries to reason with the snake woman, even going so far as to address it with a title of royalty. It was part of a short-term surface strategy to engender a sense of trust and earn its cooperation, or at least pacify it enough to grant them safe passage across the dunes and into civilization.
The monster vocally hisses at Vayne to express its disapproval of his flattery, a threatening pattern of scales flaring up from beneath her neck in the form of a cobra's hood. “You have violated the law of nature! The mighty feasts upon the weak! There can be no exceptions!” She spits out another, shorter hiss. “You have fallen victim to my spell, thus I rightfully claim you as my prey!”
This might be significantly less difficult than I anticipated... Vayne thought to himself, raising an eyebrow at the creature's attempts to justify its own carnivorous appetites. Assuming he really did succumb to this rather impressive method of food capture, she was apparently not fast, or hungry, enough to actually come and feast when he was lying prone in the wastelands. Either that, or this particular specimen was suffering a kind of intellectual handicap.
“I am Lamia, Vessel of the Sun, and Radiant Queen of this Desert! I will claim what is mine by right!” She rears her mighty form back, brandishing a curved scimitar stained with the lives of her many past victims.
“Then I invoke the right of self-defense!” Vayne's rebuttal is sharp and precise like an arrow loosed from the bow of an expert archer, striking where it hurts the creature identified as “Lamia” most: her precious ego. Her anger causes the beast to lock up on the spot, giving this seasoned politician enough room to continue laying on the verbal pressure. “Your assertions that my life be willingly surrendered to you requires that I, Vayne Solidor, protect myself with reasonable and potentially deadly force, as this very action would bring direct harm against me.” He slightly lifts his head upward, as if to turn his nose away from this pitiful excuse for royalty.
The human is impudent enough to fight for its life? To demand this honor?! Such preposterous thinking made the egocentric queen of the desert laugh with neurotic glee! “You wish to kill in exchange for the privilege of living? Such a frigid ambition could only be a human's... Kuhuhuhu...” Lifting her brow in curiosity, Lamia sneers at Vayne, gazing upon his cloaked figure as if trying to size up the man's physique while she toyed with her wicked blade. “And you hardly look as if you've ever lifted a sword before!”
“I harbor no shame in admitting my lack of experience for combat.” Vayne's words leave his mouth with practiced certainty, looking to the sands with a contemplative gaze, but this admission is a bald-faced lie; to reveal his true potential here would create even deeper problems, and he was not of sufficient vitality to participate even if he was compelled by some baser impulse to prove a point. No, the silver-tongued Archadian has always been more skilled at playing the long game, a talent he was about to prove right now.
“However, in the event that a person has invoked the right of self-defense, and they are proven to be lacking in their ability to properly protect their own life, or that of another person's, then they may select a single individual to represent the defending party as their champion. This also permits the attacking party to select a champion to act on their behalf, as well, as a matter of proper conduct.”
Assuming that events play out as Vayne carefully planned for them to, he will have singlehandedly danced with death and lived to tell the tale. Taken from a more cynical perspective, he had relegated his entire strategy to a coin flip, and it was uncertain what kind of results might transpire. A fatalist would believe it to be out of their control as an issue of principle.
But Vayne Solidor is always in control.
He then turns to the only other person nearby, and highlights his presence with a coolly outstretched hand. “I choose my companion Ser Angeal, Knight-errant, to be my champion.”
No sooner had the command left his lips that the world turned into a blur of golds and tans. The sand swirled up around the two men, immediately taking away sight of anything and everything nearby. As the world around them shrank to nothing but the vortex of the storm, Angeal felt his pulse quicken, his breath rising in his chest. There was something here. Something unlike anything he’d truly dealt with before.
The laughter bounced off of the walls around them, for as long as they stood. In mere moments, the storm swept the structure away, crumbling it into its base form; the very sand that birthed it. The Soldier kept his feet steady, despite the caution that wormed its way into his mind. A creature that could control the elements itself was nothing to overestimate.
From the storm emerged the creature herself. If it weren’t for the unnatural chuckling, she may have even passed for human with half of her body hidden. Deep red hair and shining, slitted eyes gleaming, she even wore the most luxurious clothing Angeal had seen in quite some time. However, as one’s eyes drifted further down, the feminine structure gave way to something serpentine. She was part woman, part snake.
That was certainly a first. What were they called in mythos? Nagas? There were reports out in the Gongaga region and the Icicle areas about sirens that led men to their death, but nothing like what was before him now.
The creature turned its attention quickly off of him. No, her eyes were on Vayne, her lips twisted into a devilish grin. Angeal kept his stance, ready to defend any potential strikes at a moment’s notice. Sweat beaded from his hairline, dripping down his chin as the two conversed … Rather normally. If the Soldier could have afforded to do so, he would have given Vayne a concerned, incredulous stare for reacting to the situation so calmly as he had, referring to the snake woman as royalty. Maybe they had such creatures in his world? Still, Angeal dared not to take his eyes off of the creature.
Enraged, the snake woman reared back, a hood of scales emerging from her neck, a curved blade slicing through the air with a hiss much too alike her own. Still, she didn’t strike, instead choosing to continue to argue with the man she so sought to kill.
Vayne wished to defend himself. Despite his sudden burst of energy, Angeal knew he’d been weakened earlier. That, and he didn’t seem to be much of a combatant … Furrowing his brow, the man wondered what exactly Vayne was attempting to accomplish with his bluffing. In a way, the man reminded him of Genesis, worming his way out of a situation and changing it into his favor with nothing but words alone.
And the answer became clear quite quickly. As Vayne mentioned a champion to fight on their behalf, Angeal finally allowed his eyes to stray from the angry snake creature. His glowing gaze bored hard into Vayne’s concentrated face, perturbed at the man’s brazen action.
A hand outstretched in his direction. Now, he was Ser Angeal, fighting for another man.
Angeal glanced back at the enemy, who’s blazing, amber gaze finally turned to him, if only for a moment.
“Putting all of your eggs in one basket is a dangerous gambit,” the Soldier muttered to Vayne. He would have defended the man in a heartbeat, of course, but there was something about practically being ordered to by a man he barely knew that gave Angeal a temporary feeling of unease and dislike. It left as soon as it had come, though, with the present threat much more of a worry.
He stepped forward, inching ever closer to his enemy. She was unlike anything he’d ever faced before, but at the end of the day, a bloodthirsty monster was nothing but that. Queen or not, it was kill or be killed. Lamia had already admitted to having a sleep spell in her arsenal, and avoiding magic was one of Angeal’s specialities, having dealt with Genesis for as long as he had.
She wouldn’t leave, even if he offered her the chance. Lamia had shown she was angry, smug, and considered everything within the sand to belong to her.
Not being one for words, Angeal simply nodded to his opponent, “I accept my role in this. You can only try and take him if you kill me first.”
How long can you swallow the pain? Before it comes round again, And a shadow in the valley will lead you to them, So don't follow.
[attr="class","bodytxtt"]His ploy, while rather piecemeal in comparison to more wide-reaching schemes, had effectively snared both the serpentine Lamia, self-professed Queen of the desert demesne, and her challenger, Ser Angeal of the Steel-slate Sword. Predictably, the latter had expressed concern for his involvement in all of this. “Putting all of your eggs in one basket is a dangerous gambit,” said the warrior with a chastising undertone.
Vayne's piercing focus does not leave the sinister Lamia's half-and-half figure, even as it lies mere meters away, curled and barely able to restrain itself from succumbing to lesser, baser instincts. Her wrath is plain and visible like the sandstorms that howled and raged around them all. “A victorious warrior wins before he goes to war, but a defeated warrior goes to war merely seeking to win.” It was a perfect summation of their predicament: Lamia sought to claim what she believed rightfully belonged to her, all while foolishly ignoring the rules and precepts that came with parading around oneself as royalty; in the process, she had encountered a true soldier of the battlefield, and he was much more than that colossal wedge of sharpened steel.
If it was not sufficient enough to satisfy Angeal's concerns, Vayne simply lowered his brow, yet he did not take his eyes away from the serpentine figure, nor did the corners of his lips twitch even the slightest. “The 'basket' that you speak of is sufficiently voluminous enough.” Either Vayne was referencing the metaphor Angeal had used, the immense weapon he was about to use, or perhaps even Ser Angeal himself.
Leaving his last words free to interpretation, Vayne observed with silent confidence as the muscular swordsman, driven by duty to fulfill that which had become expected of him, stepped forward to meet his opponent in mortal combat. “I accept my role in this. You can only try and take him if you kill me first.” At least someone here was principled enough to embrace the value of formality and etiquette.
Lamia's narrow, bony fingers curled into fists, but only for a moment. How dare these humans pretend to stand as equals before her? A part of herself wanted nothing more than to allow the dunes to swallow them up from beneath their insolent feet, but there would be no satisfaction gained from so easy a victory. She had to remind these monkeys of their proper place.
The creature chortles lowly, her voice echoing across the desert air as if the sandstorm walls were those of a cave's instead. “Pitiful mortals.” The portion where her serpent's half began lifted the human-shaped side of Lamia up slowly, rearing back in a manner that suggested she was about to strike at any moment — yet her sword remained free of hostility or bloodthirst.
Instead, she spreads both her arms wide. “Your hopes end here!” The ground begins to quake. Profusely. Vayne's entire body buckles underneath itself, and no doubt Angeal's would, as well, given the sheer magnitude of the desert's rumblings in spite of how soft and pliable the sands were. As Lamia smiles wickedly at the two humes, the windstorm rages ever more intensely while a great mound of golden grains lurches up from behind the snake woman, supposedly from the depths that lay hidden below the sun-scorched expanse. “And your meaningless existence with it!”
Like waterfalls the sand rolls down this new, towering threat in streaming currents. Beneath this veil sat a lumbering, mammoth-sized frame that almost resembled Lamia herself, the sole difference being it was vastly less serpentine in its appearance and far more grotesque. Four mandibles sat where a face ought to be, drooling as though the invertebrate beast they were attached to had starved for thousands of years and was just now being let loose to feed for the very first time, marking its apparent happiness with a groan that shook the desert just as fiercely as its own emergence had.
Within minutes, both Angeal and Vayne were completely eclipsed by the titanic figure of a Sand Worm — a creature that the Archadian Emperor had neither seen before, nor expected to be summoned without so much as a cue. Was this monstrosity to be the Serpent-queen's champion, then?
After the ground ceased to shake and roll, the diplomat straightened his posture and coolly takes several steps away from Angeal, certain he could handle himself adequately against the new threat. “If it is any consolation,” said Vayne, attempting to sound as apologetic as he could in the face of these changed circumstances, “your opponent appears to be rather soft and slow.” Provided Lamia honored the arrangement and stayed clear of the arena herself, that is...
