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
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The first ray of sunlight breaches over the horizon to swaddle the whole of Zephon in a blanket of tender warmth. The evergreens stand tall and firm at the peak's base, lightly dusted with a layer of fresh snow from the previous night. Tranquility carries itself through the cool morning air in perfect concert with the melodies of songbirds, while the creatures of the forest emerge out of their burrows and thickets to seek out their first meals. Having broken past the Glacial Freeze at last, it was only a matter of time before the wildflowers were due to blossom.[break][break]
To many of the citizens that live in Sonora, Mount Hotan is a place that provides a moment of reprieve from the banalities of everyday living. Its slopes have seen plenty of development in recent months, leading to an increase in visitor activity. Companies looking to profit on Mother Nature's splendor take to displacing the wildlife, erect garish lodges and gift shops, sell her beauty back to the people with interest, then have the spine, the audacity, to call them 'resorts'.[break][break]
As much as he loathed their hubris in this regard, Kimahri Ronso pitied the humans. They exploit something so precious with reckless abandon, then turn their heads when forced to take stock of their choices. From high above the Twin Loops Trail, he could perceive Sonora for what it really was, beneath its glittering veneer of luxury and decadence: it is an urban hell that only destroys what it touches, where dreams become hollow and meaningless in the face of vice and corruption.[break][break]
Kimahri scowled. The longer he stared at this scabeous blemish of concrete and steel, the more it seemed to evoke the ancient city of Zanarkand at the height of its power. Or, was Sonora perhaps a defiant mockery of his recollections, as if tacitly expressing superiority over those whose lives were consumed in the destruction caused by Sin, by Yu Yevon? Every day, he could feel his disgust for Sonora growing, and he made an active effort to put space between himself and these mountainside snow parks the humans were so fond of.[break][break]
Such musings yielded little in the way of practicality, but served to remind Kimahri that he had made the proper choice for himself in abandoning civilization for nature's embrace. Humans can boast of their adaptability all they like, but they are just as fragile by comparison; what could help them to preserve their life may also take it just as quickly. Nearly a year of self-imposed isolation from the rest of society has given Kimarhi the resolve to do what many cannot in his position: survive.[break][break]
Wanting to direct his energy towards something productive, the beastkin warrior looks down at the trail for signs of activity, studying the descending incline and its immediate surroundings with sharp yellow eyes. In his hand rested the Spirit Lance, its golden blade shimmering in the morning sun, pulsing with anticipation as if the weapon itself expressed a desire to be used.[break][break]
Familiar with the hiking schedules that these humans adhered to, Kimahri was certain that no one would disturb him. It was time to hunt.[break][break]
With no hesitation, he takes a step forward, then allows the rest of his body to drop onto the powdered slopes, letting momentum take care of the rest. The humans used things called 'snow-boards' to achieve locomotion down the mountainside, whereas Kimahri did not need such trifles; the rock faces above Twin Loops Trail were smoother than most, allowing Kimahri's feet to glide effortlessly over the inch of white powder that had covered Mount Hotan the night before, sending cloudy plumes behind his azure form as he streaked closer and closer to the path.[break][break]
Instinct takes control, and Kimahri leaps while gravity pulls him down through the air like a blue meteoroid about to make impact with the ground. The Ronso lands against the snow-covered trail with audible force, crouched low with his spear poised behind him. He inhales, then exhales. [break][break]
Slowly, the beastkin lifts his head, and locks eyes with the first thing to make contact with them.
[attr="class","wassup1dangerfoot"]
[attr="class","wassup1dangertag"] open to anyone!
[attr="class","wassup1dangernotes"] who's brave enough to have a run-in with a Ronso? |D
[attr=class,bulk] It was cold on the slopes of Mount Hotan. Cold and windstruck and wet in a way that he didn’t find particularly appealing. None of this was a surprise, of course, but Kuja felt his mood sour nonetheless as the chill sank deeper, settling into his very core. It was sunny at least, that cold and wretched day. The light cast the slopes in a blinding white that was patchy in places, revealing the wild green beneath.
Kuja watched it all pass from the back of his silver dragon, soaring above the already considerable altitude of the mountain slopes. He resisted the urge to press himself into her brilliant feathers and share her warmth. Instead, he shivered.
He had business on Mount Hotan. That was the only reason he’d have visited this accursed country in the first place, but he was already regretting it now. There was a certain plant which flowered only in the post-melt season on the hiking trails of the mountain pass. A certain plant that he’d heard had particularly potent alchemical properties when dried and powdered and used in matters of medicine. Its effects were that of preservation rather than healing -- a kind of temporary stasis which bought time for curative magicks to do their work. He thought it might be a useful stabilizing component in the manufacturing of artificial light.
It was important, he reminded himself. Far more important than his comfort. Still, he found himself cursing it as he neared his third hour of flight in the bitter cold. Why couldn’t it be grown anywhere else on this damnable planet?
”Descend.” Kuja crossed his arms tightly over his chest as his dragon banked slowly downwards, approaching the trails at last. From here, he could see splashes of color working its way across the countryside like a patchwork quilt. There were the famous flowers, he thought, and hopefully his plant was among them. If not, he feared for the next man unlucky enough to cross him.
His dragon circled the flowering ridges until she found an appropriate landing space in a small field at the base of a cliffline. She slowed in her descent, each powerful wingbeat sending up a cyclone of colorful petals, before she settled onto solid land, crushing a great circle of the things below her weight. Kuja eyed the ruined flora distastefully then slid from her back, landing lightly on his feet.
The place was beautiful, really. Once he discounted the weather.
He spent some time searching through the plantlife, identifying each of the species in turn. Vanilla orchids, Mountain Arnica, Bellflower. Nothing out of place and nothing of particular use. He drifted about, testing one plant then the next as his dragon took the chance to stretch her wings. She’d wandered as far as the cliffside when he heard the unmistakable sound of her chuffing. Which meant she was in some kind of distress. He looked back to see her backing up, teeth bared as she carefully watched the slopes. She stomped about as a clear sign of defensive aggression.
Strange. Usually she was the one on the attack.
The threat revealed itself suddenly. One moment they were seemingly alone in their field of flowers, and the next a great, blue something had descended from the slopes and straightened itself before them. It was a monster clearly. Some kind of hulking, bipedal beast that looked like a cross between gnoll and a yeti. There were signs of sentience -- clothes and a spear for one -- but Kuja doubted it extended particularly far. What kind of intelligent creature would think of single-handedly ambush a dragon?
”I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Kuja called on the off chance that it could comprehend languages. He drifted towards them, in no real hurry to clear the space. ”Ava’s not particularly fond of strangers.”
Two forms appear before Kimahri; they were not present mere moments ago. One shape is large and tailed, profiled by great argent pinions which shimmered and glowed beneath the morning sunlight, snipping the cold air with razored edges like an arsenal of swords. He glanced at the field of flowers surrounding the enormous beast, watching with silent contempt as it stamped those clumsy feet around, chuttering and fidgeting in response to the Ronso warrior's arrival out of a supposed instinctual concern for the other figure standing near it.[break][break]
Good. It should be concerned.[break][break]
As Kimahri carefully lifts himself to a neutral stance, the androgynous stranger in gossamer silks and satins issued a mocking threat. Though his demeanor was carefully applied with an aura of perceived superiority, the beastkin could recognize the transparency of his efforts to goad him into an error of judgement. The intruder in lavender believes he is incapable of rational thought, unable to plan or reason, like so many people have before.[break][break]
Kimahri will use this hubris to his advantage.[break][break]
His fur bristled in the cold mountain breeze, whereas his feline nose wrinkled upon detecting the unmistakable static of sorcerous power wafting through the flower fields. The muscles in Kimahri's wrist tense up, ready to withdraw the Spirit Lance at a moment's notice. He steadies his breath, one after another, while both ears adjust themselves in subtle twitches to pick up sounds no other human could detect. The heat of anticipation pulsed through his veins, even though Kimahri remained still as a sculpture and silent as the grave.[break][break]
The Ronso closed his eyes, as if to offer a prayer before their encounter was fated to break into full-fledged conflict. But this time, the pantherine spearman did not need to implore the spirits of the world for strength, nor did he need protection — the time was not right for that. No, these two were trespassers; their presence violated Mount Hotan's order and purity.[break][break]
What Kimahri asked for was not a blessing for himself, but a curse for his enemies.[break][break]
The moment he opened them, their xanthous yellow color had all but completely vanished beneath a glaze of hostile purple, and from his pantherine body came a sudden wave of blackness that swept across the field of flowers, completely void of destructive ability, yet forceful enough to affect the plants in such a way that, rather than being pushed in the direction of the intruder and his silver dragon, they instead bent themselves the opposite way, as if he had somehow reversed the flow of wind.[break][break]
So, he wants to pretend the dragon is a bigger threat? Then he can pretend to his heart's delight.[break][break]
[attr=class,bulk] It seemed unlikely that the beast had heard his words, and far more unlikely that it had understood them. It just stood there, ears twitching, fur bristling, its nose wrinkled. All the while, Kuja came closer, stopping some short distance behind his dragon. Should he simply attack it now? Maybe. But he doubted it was any match for a silver dragon.
The beast closed its eyes, opened them, and shot them a dark, simmering look set in deep violet. A dark energy pulsed from its core, and the shockwave swept over him, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. It was an ugly magic. An unknown magic, and thankfully a weak one. Some kind of weakening agent, he thought, though it was almost entirely useless. It made a good show, however, and for that he had to give some small credit.
”Hm.” The creature still seemed intent on attack. Why? He had no idea. ”Have I interrupted something? Some kind of territorial dispute?” His lips twitched with the shadow of a smirk. There was no reason to taunt the thing when it couldn’t understand him. Still, it was cathartic in some insignificant way. The beast had caught him in a bad mood.
”Well if you so wish for death…” Kuja raised a hand, already sparking with magic. ”Ava. On guard.” His dragon listened as she always did, bound by an unbreakable link of both affection and psychic interference. Ava backed up, baring her teeth in a beastly snarl of her own. She flapped her wings defensively, intent not to let the creature pass. This would give him the distance he needed to end this little encounter.
Quickly.
Kuja wound magic around his fingers like thread then swiped his hand down. ”Thundaga.” The clear skies cracked with deadly purpose. There was a blazing flash of blue-white light as the haze of charged particles made their descent. They crashed into the earth with searing purpose, crackling out into endless tributaries which brushed by him in a static hum.
He hoped this little scuffle wouldn’t ruin the flowers.
Territorial dispute. The words crawl from the intruder's mouth dripping with a subtle venom, like how a centipede invades the spider's lair, fully intent on killing its occupant that it might claim a stake upon the land for its own devices. As the violet hue left his eyes, Kimahri stayed fixed on the silken stranger and his dragon familiar, unflinching, ever observant of the littlest details.[break][break]
From afar, the Ronso perceives the stranger's microexpressions, detecting a kind of arrogance that proved all too familiar for him. How they spoke to Kimahri as if he 'wished for death'...[break][break]
His glare becomes murderous. He was looking at a virtual doppelgänger of Seymour.[break][break]
Without warning, the silver dragon at his side begins to beat its razored wings in a threatening display, summoning a great gust of wind to keep the Ronso from physically advancing forward. Kimahri braces against the rushing cold, unfazed by its familiar sting. The Spirit Lance cried out to its wielder's soul, demanding to feast on the hearts of this new and powerful pair of enemies.
Then, the air crackles underneath a field of static dense enough to make Kimahri's fur stand on end. As the stranger lifts his hand, the heavens rumble with growing menace.[break][break]
Kimahri steels his nerves, fully prepared for the attack. The curse he had laid upon the field was not meant to weaken his foes directly, but rather, sever their connection to the threads of cause and effect; his lightning magic would remain untouched, save for its ability to strike a target when it truly mattered.[break][break]
Which leads, quite ironically, to an instance of great hindsight: his attacker did not know that Kimahri had trained in Spira's galvanic Thunder Plains, often for weeks on end, sometimes even months, learning to feel out and respond to each and every searing bolt of plasma that came crashing down. He had even discovered the very weapon he now holds there, hidden behind a powerful barrier, inaccessible to all save for its chosen wielder.[break][break]
Still, poor Rikku would loathe this cretin's taste in sorcery, Kimahri mused.[break][break]
The world lights up in a flash of blue and white. In that precise moment, the sorcerer brings his hand down with a sudden swipe, as if sentencing the beastkin warrior to death. [break][break]
Kimahri's eyes narrow, and he throws his body forward in a pouncing roll; a pillar of deific lightning makes contact with solid stone, digging a conical crater where the Ronso once stood in a resounding bang that shook the mountain side.[break][break]
Without breaking stride, Kimahri smoothly transitions into a running sprint, flourishing the Spirit Lance around his body in a whirlwind of golds and bronzes, ducking and weaving as bolt after bolt of magic thunder beat down on the field of flowers with chaotic abandon, scattering petals to the morning breeze in cluster that made it easier for the lancer to obfuscate his movements and dart from spot to spot with animal speed.[break][break]
The strategy proved transparent enough for him to understand: the argent dragon keeps him from getting close while the man in mauve sniped from afar using offensive spells. Black magic. Something about this person told Kimahri that Lulu would hate him, too... But therein lays the challenge: how was he going to attack an enemy that had no plans of allowing him to get close?[break][break]
For now, the Ronso bides his time, waiting for the perfect moment to unleash a counteroffensive as he used his acrobatic skills to avoid the magician's arcane assault, formidable as his command over lightning might have been. As he dodges and dances around the battlefield, Kimahri's eyes start to burn in that shade of hostile violet once again, sending out a wave of oppressive energy that caused the field of flowers to bend in the direction opposite of the delicate-looking human and his pet dragon.[break][break]
[attr=class,bulk] The creature dodged his lightning.
He dodged it.
Kuja didn’t know that was possible. Not with his magic and not with his spells. It would have taken some kind of illogical combination of animal senses and practice to sense the lightning strike before it came, and to know the exact maneuver and timing to avoid what was already laser targeted. Which wasn’t exactly practical. Who on earth could practice such a thing?
Yet, unmistakably, the beast bounded out of the way, and as the blinding light cleared and the echoing thunder rattled in the earth, Kuja saw in its place nothing but a circle of burned and ruined flowers.
He felt his tail bristle irritably. This was already more trouble than it was worth.
The beast kept running about, circling them with narrowed eyes, searching for some opening or another. Kuja wasn’t about to give it to him. Between Ava’s powerful wingbeats and Kuja’s flippant magical strikes, the once pristine mountain cliffside was a complete chaos of scattered petals and singed grass. He’d have to find another clearing to search, and that sounded miserable when he was already half-shivering in the alpine chill.
”Would you stay still and die already?” Kuja’s eyes narrowed. If he couldn’t end this in a single well-aimed spell then a little more destruction might be necessary. Even if he didn’t quite care for the idea of making this last longer.
Kuja gathered magic to his hand. It was of a different kind now. No longer sharp and biting, this was a slower kind of magic -- dark and pervasive. Kuja summoned it from the depths of his own malice and, once it had taken shape, unleashed it upon the creature before him.
It burst in a quiet sphere around his prey, slow and crackling and heavy with its own necrotic energy. Demi. It would seize all within its grasp in its own gravitational pull, suffocating them. How could one escape that which pulled them back?
Kimahri strafed through and across the field of flowers with the swiftness of wind, ducking and sliding below the scattering scorched petals while the silken spellcaster's lightning magic tore through them with indiscriminate wrath. Such a violent display of arcane force could only be matched by Lulu herself, if someone were brave or stupid enough to make her angry, that is.[break][break]
Before he could formulate a plan of action, the furred warrior lurched forward, ceasing all movement in that direction, yet he is keen enough to sense the change in pressure just before a crushing force began to weigh itself down against his shoulders and back, compelling the Ronso to splay his legs and flex both arms to better brace against this new attack.[break][break]
Feline nostrils let fly a quiet snort. Lulu could perform this spell, too. Called 'Demi', it generates a singularity field that attempts to crush, or at least compromise, a target with pure gravitational force. But this? It felt more sinister, and markedly so, as if the spell had been imbued with the weight of the stranger's ambitions, and contempt for the beast-man's staunch refusal to meekly submit to their—put rather bluntly, idiotic—demands.[break][break]
Especially considering its effects were temporary.[break][break]
Pinned in place, Kimahri persists in trying to shrug away the suffocating forces being summoned around him, a visual display of resistance, a self-serving example of the Ronso's tenacity and fighting spirit, and a display of Kimahri's own resolve to fight against this scoundrel and their dragon slave until the bitter and bloody end.[break][break]
Proof that Kimahri Ronso does not fear death. Not when he fights death every day.[break][break]
Slowly, but visibly, Kimahri's body began to rise back up, in further defiance of his attacker's superior magical ability. He adjusts his field of view to focus on the dragon, feet stamping and fully vocal in its mutual animosity toward the beast-man, wings of silver flapping at regular intervals to keep him from getting too close.[break][break]
The guardian's eyes narrowed as fate gifts him with malign intent. Could a mindless animal do this?[break][break]
Kimahri tightens hold on the Spirit Lance, and draws both arms into his chest. In his heart, he begins to channel the spirits of his ancestors, the memories of those who fell in battle fighting Sin, the fury of those who died protecting Mount Gagazet from Seymour Guado, flooding his mind and soul with the lingering legacy and glory of the Ronso people so that he could draw upon his cornerstone ability, which he would need to compensate for the harm inflicted by this person's spells.[break][break]
Empowered by Ronso rage, Kimahri pulled his form back, proud and rebellious, and unleashed a mighty roar that echoed high into the cold mountain air, invoking the extractive properties of the fighting technique known as Lancet. His target: the silver dragon, who would have a fragment of its physical and magical vitality siphoned and absorbed.[break][break]
The odds of this person knowing how it functioned were variable, but never zero. However, they were unlikely to recognize that Kimahri's iteration of the technique has a secondary property, in that he can draw and absorb the fighting experience of certain enemies and assimilate this as knowledge of a brand new ability.[break][break]
Assuming luck favored him, as well. Of course, the strategy was not without its share of risks, namely that Kimahri had now begun to shift his attention away from the spellcaster and onto their pet. High risk, high reward.[break][break]
Kuja had no idea. It seemed a sense of self-preservation was involved now, of course, but would such instincts not yell louder to simply run away? It was obvious that the beast could make no ground here, and it was far more obvious that it was outmatched. So why did it struggle so fiercely against the weight of his spell?
”You know, you could simply turn tail and run. I might even promise not to strike you in the back.” Kuja smiled mockingly though truth be told, he wasn’t exactly in a smiling kind of mood. His plans had been ruined. His miserable morning would last even longer, and it was all the fault of some barely-sentient, half-clothed cat man with a sharp stick.
As the creature shrugged off his magic and stumbled back to its feet, Kuja gave a light sigh behind the back of his hand. ”Why not simply admit defeat?”
His dragon was agitated, more so now that the hideous cat man was on its feet and glaring daggers again. There was something about the stance that must have triggered some kind of animalistic instinct in her, and the dragon was enthusiastic to express it for herself. There was all manner of stomping and flapping and chuffing that Kuja only generally saw when she thought that something might steal her food. Between the monster man’s posturing and his dragon’s snarls, it felt a little like being left out of a conversation spoken entirely in riddles. They were on their own feral wavelength, communicating in primal body language that meant nothing to him.
Kuja was not particularly amused.
The cat man grabbed his spear and made a show of crossing its arms over its chest in a kind of tribal gesture that looked like it was meant to intimidate him but only left him with more questions. Was the creature from some kind of native community, infesting the mountainside? Was this some kind of ritual show of aggression against intruders? Whatever it was trying to prove, it seemed satisfied with itself as it let out a wild roar, baring its elongated fangs similarly to irritable yeti.
Some kind of magic shot from the beast’s core, latched itself onto his silver dragon, and then returned. Far from dealing any serious damage, this magical attack only served to further frenzy his dragon into a full rage. She flapped her wings again, unleashing a cyclone upon the beast that turned the entire clearing into a deadly whirlwind of disorienting color. Kuja grit his teeth and braced himself against the force, hands raised to protect his stinging eyes.
Was she trying to blow them both off the mountain entirely?
”Ava. Calm.”
No matter where he went, it seemed the universe was intent upon obstructing him. Taking a lovely stroll through an art gala? Why not run into an ex-captive! Lending an infant genome money at the shopping center? Here comes a self-righteous princess to accuse him of villainy! Flying to an isolated mountain cliffside to pick flowers?
Have an inexplicably hostile beast man to ruin your day. Truly, the cosmos was endless in its generosity!
”Could you not?” Kuja cast Blind on the cat creature. Followed by Slow and then Sleep just to see what would stick. Most monsters like this one had resistance to such afflictions, but there was something to be said for persistence when one’s only wish was a moment to breathe after being attacked.
Streaks of pearlescent magic burst from the silver dragon's body like shots from a cannon, twisting and whirling through the air as a cluster of helices until they phased their way into Kimahri's in a flash of white. Though it results in a burst of vital energy, enough to somewhat counteract the gynandrous stranger's spells, the Ronso felt no memories nor instincts roll through his mind's eye, meaning the creature had nothing of substance to offer him. Nothing that would grant him knowledge of new techniques, to say the least.[break][break]
Instead, use of Lancet seemed to provoke the dragon into a heightened state of frenzy. Kimahri steeled himself for what was about to result, as this had been his true aim. Predictably, the feathered beast stamped about with vocalized contempt for the Ronso, then proceeded to beat its argent wings until the surrounding mountain air turned hostile and violent, resulting in the appearance of a mighty vortex of cold wind that forced Kimahri to hunch over and brace against its destructive force, squinting to maintain focus on the sorcerer and their pet while the cyclone tore apart the clearing of flowers with every last ounce of power it could muster, scattering petals in every direction, along with the intruder's underlying ambitions for them.[break][break]
The claws on his feet scrape into the rock below, leaving visible markings against the stone. His own body struggled to maintain balance, yet willpower compels the Ronso to endure. Not even the air itself seemed intent on allowing him some form of recourse. Between these facts and the trespasser's mocking calls to accept surrender and flee, Kimahri felt limited on his options.[break][break]
His decision to do battle with them was no mistake, however. Their presence alone was an act of desecration against the Greenmother's dominion. The spellcaster's irritation at the destruction caused almost exclusively by them merely confirmed to Kimahri that their motivations were less than savory. They were a danger to the mountain and its serenity. Thus, it fell upon the former guardian's shoulders to see that they would not be permitted to walk away from this encounter without a reminder of their failure to exploit the blessings of nature.[break][break]
Even if he had to die to get this point across.[break][break]
The dragon's controller demands that the former exercise restraint, then, in their mounting frustrations, moves to unleash another litany of spells against the defiant Ronso warrior. With a ferocious snarl, Kimahri had all but prepared to move in and begin his assault anew, were it not for the sudden appearance of inky black shadows at the edge of his peripheral view, creeping in closer and closer towards the center until the world itself became pitch-black and featureless.[break][break]
Amidst the rush of adrenaline, Kimahri felt his heart sink deep into his stomach. His sense of vision had completely vanished! Worse yet, he could sense that his own body was failing to respond accordingly to this turn of events, as though his opponent had cast Demi a second time, yet its effects were less crushing and more sluggish and forced. Even the flow of time itself conspired against him, it seemed.[break][break]
The only spell to miss its mark, was the stranger's attempt to induce upon Kimahri a magical slumber. Such effects routinely worked against weaker targets and proved most effective at cowing the less resilient ones into submission, but a Ronso does not roll over and accept defeat so easily. Even blinded and temporally displaced from his own actions, Kimahri felt nothing but unfiltered rage for the intruder and their pet dragon, and the more they tried to make him suffer, the angrier he would become. Eventually, if they kept this up, his anger would reach a tipping point.[break][break]
Fury coursing through every muscle, Kimahri unleashes another animalistic roar, allowing Mount Hotan to recognize the intensity of his wrath for itself as it echoed across the crags and slopes, imploring in his heart of hearts for protection against those who would do this sacred place harm. And though he could not see them, his ears and nose allowed the felinoid warrior to direct his magically-impaired gaze at the one responsible for doing so, fully intent on making it known that he was not about to surrender so readily to a silver-tongued snake like them.[break][break]
He could not fight magic with magic. Not against someone so adept in its practice, Kimahri realized, especially since he himself lacked any working knowledge of spellcraft, bar for one—[break][break]
No. The risks of using it were too great. Unleashing it would be tantamount to suicide.[break][break]
Kimahri needed the world to protect him against this threat, by whatever means necessary. And if it meant committing to an action that would have otherwise been criticized as suicidal in it scope, then so be it.[break][break]
He couldn't survive using that. But he could guarantee it by doing this.[break][break]
As the sound of his roar gradually died down in the brisk mountain air, a low rumble followed suit, miles upon miles overhead from behind the Ronso's static, unmoving form.[break][break]
And it was growing louder and louder by the second...
[attr=class,bulk] The beastman did not lose consciousness. That was but one failure out of three, however, as Kuja saw the fruits of his magic take hold. Inky black clouds gathered around the creature’s eyes in an impenetrable blindfold. The creature’s breath slowed as it fought against the forces of time itself. One might think that facing an opponent while blind and sluggish would prompt some kind of better survival instinct in even the most brutish of monsters, but no. The beastman seemed more annoyed than anything.
That made two of them.
”You’re clearly outmatched,” Kuja said on the off chance that the creature could understand him. ”And you’ve even managed to ruin my day! How satisfying for you. Now why don’t you scurry along so I don’t have to waste time and-”
ROAR
Kuja winced at the horrible, screeching sound that drowned his words. It was like a feral cat’s interpretation of an opera solo. It went on for so long and at such a high decibel that Kuja thought at first that it must have been some kind of audio-based spell, but no. It seemed the cursed thing had just decided to see what would happen if it scraped its vocal cords together at full volume. Kuja shot it an offended look as the sound finally faded into an endless echo across the mountainside. His hand sparked with magic.
Well fine. If it refused to admit defeat then he’d just have to end it himself.
”Would you care to try dodging again?” he said, tilting his head with a sly smile. ”Thunda-!”
Kuja froze, hand halfway through the intricacies of a spell. Something was wrong.
Then he heard it again. A low, deep rumble echoing at a great distance. It was the kind of sound that struck one first on an instinctual level and then on a higher plane of thought. Somewhere deep within him, some base programming whispered to run.
His dragon whined and padded at the earth. Her eyes were struck with panic. As the sound echoed louder and louder by the second, his thoughts slowly caught up to what he already instinctively knew, but hadn’t yet been able to put into words.
The beast had started an avalanche.
Kuja’s eyes widened. ”You idiot!” A bolt of panic struck through him, and he felt his magic surge with the force of his adrenaline. He wanted to strike the stupid thing down. He wanted to feel that satisfaction, but he didn’t have time. An avalanche could weigh more than a million tons and travel faster than two hundred miles per hour. Assuming it began at the mountain’s summit, that meant that it would strike in approximately-
Oh, what did it matter? He had to move.
Kuja vaulted onto the dragon’s back with a practiced ease, pulling her back with a few short command words. The avalanche was closing in. He didn’t bother looking -- he could feel it rumbling through the earth. They didn’t have time for a proper take-off. Instead, Kuja directed his dragon to charge towards the nearest cliff and take flight from there. It felt wrong, turning his back towards an enemy. However, when that enemy was blind, slowed, and in the path of an avalanche it had directly caused, he thought it to be worth the risk.
How its kind had managed to survive in the mountains with intelligence like that, he simply couldn’t fathom.
His dragon spread her wings and dove into the air, descending in a graceful dive as the rumbling of the avalanche turned into a roar behind them that seemed to swallow everything it touched. Kuja’s ears ached as he grasped his dragon’s neck tightly and waited for either the impact of a million tons of compacted snow waterfalling on top of them or for the release of the skies. His dragon tightened its body and dove down, winding this way and that around obstacles that Kuja couldn’t see. Was this how he would die? After all that he had done? In the snow and cold on an alien planet due to the stupidity of a creature that had merely happened upon his path?
No. It wasn’t. Kuja had never really worried that it would. That would be terribly anti-climactic, after all.
As the sounds faded, Kuja finally dared to look behind him. The mountain, once vibrant and beautiful and filled with flowers, was now a wasteland of ice and snow. He let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and pushed back his bangs with a shaking hand. ”What an elaborate method of suicide.”
Well, the monster was dead now and buried under the suffocating weight of its own failure. Kuja might not have won exactly, but he certainly hadn’t lost nearly as much.
Which left him victorious, he supposed. By means of default.
”I’ve wasted too much time.” Kuja eyed the mountain, scowling. ”And now the plant’s ruined if it ever existed at all. There’s no use staying here any longer.” Particularly not in this weather. The wind was like ice against his bare skin.
