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.
A curtain of rain descends from the darkening clouds on high. Plumes of fading smoke rise from deep within the Headstone Forest, a signal to onlookers as far as Provo and Torensten. A tragedy took place here. What should have been, never transpired. Those involved suffered immeasurable loss. Now, all of Zephon weeps.[break][break]
An odd mile south of the boundaries that separated the cursed woods from the rest of the world, lay the source of her grief. A body, blue and pantherine, broken, marred by injury, stained with blood and muck, absent of any spark that would suggest it could breathe or move, save for an errant, involuntary twitch of a finger. Carrion birds gather around, anticipating a hearty feast, crowing out their hunger to any and all that dared to approach. Such is the natural way of things; those on top of the food chain die, return to the earth, and become food for those at the bottom, just as they are for those up above. It is all part of the great wheel of life.[break][break]
Life that Kimahri, last son of the Ronso, had chosen to end.[break][break]
To think that fate would be so cruel as to wrench him away from Spira, thrust him into a world so unimaginably alien yet strangely familiar, then turn him against the one person who served as the foundations on which his entire sense of identity and purpose rested upon. Lady Yuna, High Summoner, she who vanquished Sin and lived. Yuna...[break][break]
Something foul, evil, had corrupted him. Possessed him. Twisted his feelings into purest animal rage, only to have it used against his will for the singular purpose of making Yuna suffer. He had become a vital instrument of cruelty for a fiend most diabolical and sinister, and his fortitude had proven too weak to resist. Enslaved by the Headstone Forest, Kimahri had failed his summoner; his friend; his fellow guardians; his family; his own self. Everything he ever believed in, or stood for, fell apart at the seams the moment that face-stealing devil burrowed its poisonous, parasitic influence into his heart and mind.[break][break]
And so, it fell upon Kimahri's shoulders to rectify his weakness. He chose to destroy the beast responsible for tearing him away from Yuna. But in doing this, he chose to pay the ultimate price. Such is the duty of a guardian: to protect the summoner, no matter the cost.[break][break]
Perhaps it was too steep. Now, Yuna must brave this foreign planet alone, deprived of the one person who had been there with her since the very beginning. For how long had she done so already? Had she come here before him? Was it possible that she had managed to create a life of her own, separate from the one she had lived in Spira? Such questions will never be answered, now.[break][break]
There was only the stillness of eternity, and the weightlessness of death's cold embrace. His time on this planet, however brief, would soon be over. Would he be worthy of returning to the Farplane, where he might join his tribe-kin? Would he be doomed to wander this land as a revenant shade, anchored by grief and regret? Or was he fated to simply vanish altogether, denied repose, consigned to the all-consuming void of nothingness? Did it even matter?[break][break]
Perhaps. Perhaps not. But Kimahri was prepared.[break][break]
Some may call it a tragedy. Alex called it a blessing. He'd heard plenty about the Headstone Forest; none of it good. It made one's skin crawl; a haunted forest that only brought pain to those who were foolish enough to enter. At least for the unwary. Not to mention that burning it really was the best way to go about it. If that place really was haunted to hell and back like he had heard, fire was always a good way to cleanse the trapped spirits and get them to move on. Something purifying about it. But with the place cleared, Alexander, opportunistic as he could, went forth into the now cleansed forest, or at least part of it. Maybe he'd find some hidden treasure or something. Something he could use to pay for the repairs for the Rising Stones. It could also make for a nice adventure. Maybe he'd find some kind of dungeon that had been overgrown that he could run through and enjoy himself.
At least until he found a bunch of birds, scavengers, flocking around something blew. There wasn't the stench of death, a unique smell that he was all too familiar with. Walking towards the flock, he waved his an arm, the other holding an umbrella, scattering them bit by bit, ordering them to move; not that they really listened to him. It was more a big scary human lumbering towards them that made them scatter, but it worked all the same. It was... a Hrothgar? Really? Alex blinked. He was surprised to see one of them. Finding himself on one knee at the lion man's side in a few strides, he knelt down, feeling for a pulse. There was one, but it was faint. He wouldn't last much longer. Which is why Alex gave the ever so helpful summary of "You look like shit, man." He shook his head, before his hand moved over the wet fur, matted with blood and muck to examine the injuries. "Lacerations. Burns. Exit--Burns via exit wounds? An implosion?" His eyes narrowed.
Signs of an implosion. Nonsensical to most, but to Alex, well, he knew it for what it was immediately. Giving the lion man a light slap in frustration as he fell back, crossing his legs and staring at the Hrothgar, he question, though mostly meant for his ears alone. "Oh, godsdammit. You blew yourself up, didn't you?" The ways of the Blue Mage were strange and mysterious, but truly unique. And from one Blue Mage, it was easy for him to pick up the telltale signs of that ever unique magic. "Do they not teach you, when you're learning Blue Magic, that spells like Final Sting or Self Destructare very dangerous and must be properly mitigated?" He shook his head, letting out a grunt. Even he knew that. The Whalaqee had been very insistent regarding sacrifical spells like those. Properly prepared, it could be done without serious injury. Total exhaustion, yes, but it wouldn't be inevitably fatal like this one would be. At least it explained the cause of the fire.
"You are so lucky I'm a Blue Mage, too, Mister." He scolded, the familiar hum of magic coursing through him. It was a potent spell, it could be a bit taxing if he didn't get a moment to catch his breath, but it'd do the trick. The spell was cast; the refreshing potency of White Wind washing over the two of them. It was meaningless for Alex; he was in tip top shape, but him being in tip top shape made it that much better for the Hrothgar, too. It would knit the wounds closed, stabilize him, bring him back to the world of the living. Mostly. He'd still need a bath, and with how banged up he was, Alex wasn't sure if the Hrothgar would be waking up any time soon. Still, couldn't just leave him here, could he? Could always just leave him, go back to treasure hunting.
Alex groaned, knowing he'd never allow himself that option. "Wait," He realized, just now. Looking at the unconscious pantherine man. "How do you even know that stuff?" He quirked an eyebrow, as if he actually expected a response.
A figure emerges from the horizon. Male, blond hair, black armor, umbrella in hand. Some kind of traveler, perhaps. Whether by fate's guidance or a stroke of purest luck, the passerby had spotted the carrion birds surrounding Kimahri's lifeless body and took it upon their shoulders to frighten the flock away, denying them valuable sustenance. They stoop low, checking for any sign of life, talking aloud as if he were anticipating an opportunity to speak his opinion about the Ronso's pathetic state of being. The stranger would receive no such luxury here.[break][break]
Beyond the perception of all living things, Kimahri could only observe the human's actions, unable to interact with them or the world at large. Were it possible, the guardian might have rebuked him for endeavoring to stabilize his fading condition. He had brought this upon himself; they were wasting their time here. Seeing the human's lips move did nothing to help Kimahri understand what he was saying, for no sound could reach him in this liminal space meant for the departed and dying.[break][break]
From the Ronso warrior's current point of view, the whole of Zephon appeared dull and colorless, sapped of any vibrancy or life that he might have been able to recognize under different circumstances. The clouds above seemed to spill and roll across the sky at breakneck speeds; further indication that Kimahri was not spiritually present within the realm of the living. The Farplane, it was not. This was something else. Something cold and lonely. Isolating.[break][break]
The human continues to tamper with his mangled and bloodied body, kneeling low to apply a touch of healing magic. Kimahri recognized the spell as soon as its effects became manifest, watching as a gust of rejuvenating wind slipped around and into each open wound, carefully working to try and close them shut. The White Wind. A technique that he himself had learned by fighting against his other rival, Yenke. It did not require complex thought to conclude that this human, for better or worse, also possessed the required intellect needed to learn and use the techniques of fiends.[break][break]
Alas, one application alone would not be sufficient enough to fully repair the damage that Kimahri had sustained, regardless of how skilled or potent the stranger's casting ability might have been. As the human's magic worked to stitch the flesh and mend cuts into scars, this fact would make itself clear when traces of a viscous, pinkish residue began ever-so-faintly oozing out of the beast-man's open injuries; a sign that he was not dealing with just any normal wounds. Remnants from an invasion of the body, wholly unwanted, and exceedingly dangerous to an unknowing mind. One might assume it was poison, but only Kimahri knew of the corrosive nature behind this strange and evil substance.[break][break]
It doesn't matter now. Regardless of whatever his intentions may be in this moment, the human would have to waste valuable magic in order to keep the dying Ronso alive, and he would have to work against the mysterious fluids that leaked from his wounds in tandem with all of the blood that was being washed away by the falling rain.[break][break]
Let me die. Yuna has suffered enough. Kimahri thinks on these words as he gazes vacantly down at the human from past the veil of mortal awareness, unable to communicate his wishes. Do not prolong her grief.
Wait, White Wind didn't do it? Alex blinked for a moment in surprise. When he was flagged and ragged, sure, the spell wasn't all that great, but he felt great, he was great. It should have brought this lion man back up to speed. He gave the Hrothgar another look over, noticing there were still some open sores that--"What--What is that oozing from--Ohgghh, that is gross." Alexander Sorel was a man who had seen many horrors in his life. The horrors of war, the horrors of eldritch monsters, the horrors of marriage, but few things really grossed him out quite like an open, infected wound. He did not want to touch it. Too gross. It also meant that this was probably beyond his ability to heal completely. He didn't know Esuna. He needed to find someone who did. Of course, that also meant abandoning the reason he was here. He could always just leave this guy to the crows.
Alex groaned and sighed. As tempting as it could be to sometimes just be the selfish prick and leave others to their fates, he just didn't have it in him. Holding a hand over the blue Hrothgar, Alex began to transfer some of his aether to keep the lion man stable. At least for a moment. He looked up at the rain, hearing it patter against his umbrella. "You're losing blood, too. I don't know what I can do about that... disgusting ooze. But I do know how to stop the bleeding. I hope." If White Wind wasn't working as well as it should, then things were quite dire indeed. But he still had one more trick up his sleeve, magic of the Red. Something that belonged only to the Red. Well, and the Black. But this guy was out cold and thus in no condition to object or complain. Which meant Alex was free to do as he pleased, and only at risk of getting his arms torn off later.
Bundling the umbrella in the crook of his arm, keeping one hand sending a steady stream of aether, he reached over with his now free other, hovering it over one of those open, bleeding wounds. And out came the fire aether. If White Wind couldn't mend the wound closed, then in theory he could just--Wait. He thought for a moment to the Hrothgar. If he could drag him someplace dry like a cave... couldn't he just use some thunder magic to--Brilliant, Alex! He just needed to see if he could even close these wounds before dragging him off someplace dry. But his confidence was renewed that he could probably fix this.
The human's revulsion at the seeping alien liquid comes as no surprise to the pensive spirit of Kimahri. This was no ordinary affliction. Whatever coursed through the veins of his dying body worked to actively prevent the White Wind from properly healing the litany of injuries all over. The Ronso contemplates on the gelatinous fluid's source, the nefarious plant-thing that had impersonated Yuna, but could only lower his invisible gaze out of deep remorse; his attack had seemingly destroyed the fiend in body, yet the visible presence of this foreign matter served as proof that the creature was far from truly dead.[break][break]
The stranger adjusts himself, then begins to channel more threads of arcane energy to his hands, emanating warmth and heat. Fire magic. He intended to cauterize the gravest of wounds, prevent them from allowing more precious blood to be lost among the torrential rain and congealing mud. Sound reasoning, however...[break][break]
As soon as the man hovered his palms over the Ronso, the pinkish ooze reacted visibly to the encroaching flames, and before they could receive an opportunity to lick at Kimahri's flesh, the strange substance pulsated and trembled until large clusters of thorny vines sprouted violently outward as if in retaliation, then slithered and snaked their way over the guardian's unconscious body, creating even deeper puncture marks and spilling more blood in total defiance of the human's best efforts to keep him stable.[break][break]
From the great beyond, Kimahri could do nothing but shake his head. He was infected, corrupt with the evils of that fiend, and its very unholy essence now worked to prevent him from being pulled back to the world of the living. One way or another, it had hoped to claim the last Ronso as a prize. And it was succeeding.[break][break]
A sensible person would have left him to his fate. But this human did not appear to be the sensible type. Or, at least, he was not the sort of fellow to abandon someone in obvious need. Kimahri could not help but draw parallels between him and the boy from Zanarkand. He also ignored the principles of reason to aid those less fortunate. Attributes of a true guardian, qualities that Kimahri had been so foolishly resistant to acknowledge at the time.[break][break]
But Tidus was a dream. A figment of the slumbering fayth, doomed to vanish once the curse of Sin had been lifted. It made Kimahri wonder: was this a dream, too? Had his displacement from Spira been nothing more than an elaborate delusion of the mind? It was hard to say, given how much time elapsed since he first awoke in these foreign lands. The human seemed convinced enough that Kimahri was real, based on how he taxed himself to maintain his fading life.[break][break]
Kimahri steeled himself for the inevitable. His final fantasy would soon be over.
[attr="class","ayab-text"] As usual, Ryne found herself following a ways behind Alex as stealthily as she could. Her guardian had explicitly told her to remain behind at their shared home, but the young girl was not quite the best when it came to listening. What if he got into trouble without her? Who was going to look after him since Cassandra had taken to her own path? As she had told Master Matoya, Ryne placed it upon herself to make sure that Alex would not get into more trouble than was necessary. The Headstone Forest was familiar enough to her in that she could maneuver through the haunted forest like a wraith herself. An entity of white and gold as she slid through the shadows with practiced, familiar ease. Darkness could be just as promising and safe as the light after all. [break][break]
The haunting, regretful calls of the ghosts that lingered here pressed upon her senses as strongly as before. Ryne knew something horrible had happened here long ago--so horrible that it echoed on through the years and slept beneath the very soil under her feet. Silent as a phantom, Ryne hid behind the great shadow of a tree as Alex happened upon a bloodied figure. She strained her vibrant blue eyes within the shade of the forest to pick up the hue of darkened blue and red. A soft gasp escaped her lips as she managed to surmise the dire circumstances of the Ronso. What else could it be? His figure was hard to make out, but she could see the matted blue fur and the similarities of the Ronso of the First. [break][break]
Scolding words soon filled the air as Alex attempted to do his best to heal the male of his wounds. Ryne bit her bottom lip as she sensed something dark and insidious within the man's very form. A nasty, oozing poison that would not allow the Ronso to live for much longer if left to fester and rot within his veins. "Alex, stop! If you continue, you will only cause more harm than good," she shouted as she emerged from the shadows easily enough. As she got closer, she could not help but place both of her hands over her mouth in shock at the vines that now covered the man. The young girl soon steeled herself as she knelt without complaint into the muddy ground and took out one of her daggers. [break][break]
"Cease using your fire magicks and rely on your healing ones once I have cleansed the poison from his body." There was a calm, commanding tone to her soft voice as she deftly began to cut away the thorny vines. Ryne needed to be able to have clear access to where the worst of his wounds were as she continued her arduous task for a few more moments. Once the worst of it was cleared away, she inhaled deeply and placed her free hand over the Ronso. Her blue eyes glowed even more brightly as her hands did as she used her manipulated the aether within her to purge away the poison clinging to him like shadows. An enhanced Esuna blessed to her by the powers of the original Minfilia as she concentrated to the best of her ability. "You won't die here. I refuse to allow it!" [break][break]
