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.
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In some areas of the world, winter meant snow and cold. But in the Perigosa Jungle, winter meant blazing temperatures, days of no rain, and breeding season for the mundane and the monstrous beasts of the jungle. Animals, even those that were normally shy, turned aggressive and hostile during the dry season here. The Filhos da Selva held The Great Hunt annually when the number of hostile monsters was at its highest to cull some before they got out of hand. [break][break]
Rydia had been too new to the treetop people last year to take part. But this year, at her friend Rhen’s urging, she’d decided to join the Hunt. As an outsider, she’d offered to meet and lead any monster hunters who came from elsewhere in Zephon to partake in the annual event. Rather than join the well-practiced teams of native Filhos da Selva, Rydia would help monster hunters make their way through the deep, twisting paths of the jungle safely. Her process would certainly be more chaotic but hopefully still effective in reducing the aggressive monster populations. [break][break]
She wore light-weight leathers in greens and browns and had her hair pulled into twin buns atop her head. A shimmering cloak down her back granted some magical protection, as did a band of crystal looped around one finger. Her mystic whip was hooked to her belt and her elven bow slung across her back, with a quiver fully loaded with holy arrows. She was completely prepared for the hunt ahead of her, with the eidolon Leviathan just a summon away if things got too dire. Now all she needed was her fellow monster hunters to arrive. [break][break]
Rydia tapped her green-booted foot idly on the wooden pathways of the treetop village of Santuario. The leaders had told her there were outsiders every year, journeying to the jungle to prove their worth in the Hunt. But the Filhos da Selva teams had already left at dawn, and Rydia was still alone. She was getting ready to leave on her own, though she knew that decision was folly. Surely some enterprising adventurer would arrive soon…
All that one needed to reach the Perigosa Jungle was a map, enough free time depending on where the point of departure was and-slash-or your means of transportation, and plenty of boredom. According to the rumours and the books that Mikkel he had found on the place, most of which either reported or happened to be the source of aforementioned rumours, surviving it was another pair of shoes entirely. He had read of both fauna and flora capable of "killing the unprepared traveller", which may or may not have meant that at least the fungi were safe, but Mikkel knew better than to expect some adventurers-slash-scholars to even know the difference. And then of course one had to ask what kind of danger flora presented to the average Joe, because one thing was the odd poisonous plant or fruit that could only harm you if you actively took a bite or inhaled the spores and you had a body that could be harmed by the poison, and another was, say, facing a Mad Oscar. Or Malboros, as they were more commonly known.
Mikkel saw the first fronds at dawn, as the first rays of sunlight swept over the expanse of the forest, after about a night's worth of flying. He descended until he was only inches away from the topmost leaves, dispelled the hang glider, hopped on the highest branch he could find, and began to work his way down, which he did quite fast at first, because he had missed the first branch, snapped the second, and barely managed to grab the third as he muttered a curse. It was, however, smoother sailing from the fourth onwards. In the end, he slid down a vine until he finally landed. Ignoring the mosquitoes, which over there were nearly as big as dragonflies, he disappeared in the undergrowth...
...Strewn along the path were corpses. Human ones, for the most part, but some came from people that he had only seen on Zephon. A few of them looked like humans who just happened to have pointier ears; others had curiously leporid features (once again it was most noticeable in the ear area, and Mikkel could not tell for the undeath of him how in the world looking like a giant rabbit helped one survive in a forest full of dangerous predators); a couple were even more beastly in appearance, and their faces were half-covered by cracked masks of wood and bone, stained with dried blood. Mikkel counted eleven in total, all between a few days and a week old. Their ribcages had been torn open, and the contents feasted upon first by the predator or predators that killed them, and then by ants and carrion birds. He concentrated and conceded the culprits, wherever they were, a whistle of admiration.
A wooden palisade marked the end of the path and the entrance of a jungleheart village. Mikkel entered it (was it even a word, "jungleheart"?) surprisingly unopposed. Although there were definitely a few locals on the lookout towers – the "children of the forest", as they called themselves – none were paying attention to him. Whatever it was they were focusing on, it was on higher ground than he was and it was quite more distant too. He shrugged, and walked on. The village was, on the whole, quite empty. Only in the plaza did he find a lone human woman.
“Well? Is the party here?” he asked as he placed on the ground what could have been best described as a sandwich of wooden planks. He was wearing, rather than his usual armour, a baggy red shirt that some bloke decided it was a good idea to decorate with large stylised white flowers, and short white trousers that did not cover anything past his knee. Replacing his usual boots were sandals so minimalistic in design that the only reason the soles were still under his feet was because of a couple of strings that Mikkel held between his toes. He added: “Here, take it. Not even sure why I have it. Or how, for that matter.”
And as soon as he said that, he offered the young woman a large glass filled with a red-orange liquid and, as a matter of fact, three ice cubes. Secured to the rim were an orange slice and a little paper umbrella. After that, he went back to the wooden sandwich, and unfolded it into a new shape. He took off his wide-brimmed straw hat and lay down on the foldable chaise.
“As long as you keep those arrows away from me, I promise you we'll get along great. Anyway, when does it start?”
Rydia was about to huff in annoyance and take off for the Great Hunt alone. Otherwise she would miss out on the event entirely. But then a single strange shape appeared, ambling up towards the treetop village. And specifically towards her standing alone in the square. She narrowed her eyes and watched, trying to make sense of the slightly stiff gait, the heap of wooden planks deposited before her, and the beachy attire atop what looked like mere sun bleached bones. [break][break]
Rydia hadn’t figured out what to say before a glass of bright liquid was thrust into her hand. She took it by habit and held the cold, sweating glass with a bemused expression. A jaunty umbrella swiveled in the glass and lodged against an orange slice. Santuario didn’t make drinks like this… did they? ”Where…?” the summoner started to articulate a question but she was brought up short again. The strange creature--man?--started to assemble the heap of planks into a chair of sorts. Then with all the nonchalance in the world, leaned back onto it.[break][break]
He (and she was really just guessing on pronouns and genders here) seemed right at home, here in her city. The city that she’d felt like an outsider in for far too long. Rydia felt curious eyes turn on them from the towers around the square, though no one approached. Was this a test? To see how the outsider summoner would fare with only this outlandish companion? [break][break]
With a pursing of her lips and a small snort, Rydia steeled herself to face the relaxing skeleton in the ridiculously bright shirt. Maybe the monstrous creatures of the Arco Iris would merely think he was one of their own. He was certainly flamboyant enough. ”Unfortunately,” Rydia began in a tight voice, ”You’re all that showed up. No other outsiders came this year and I can’t afford to keep waiting. We’ll have to go just the two of us. The locals have been gone for hours already.” She frowned and looked again at the drink in her hand. ”I don’t suppose you even know what’s in this?” [break][break]
Thinking caution was better than curiosity, she set the strange glass down on a table in the square. A perplexing question for another time. ”So, what can you do? Magic?” she guessed, noting his lack of obvious weaponry. She wanted to ask what he was, but that seemed rude and, despite strange appearances and mysterious drinks, this newcomer had been nothing but reasonably friendly thus far. She didn’t want to insult her sole companion.
Mikkel received the news while fumbling for a set of sheets of papers that were not there, nor, come to think of it, did he have any reason to think that they would be there at all, or to care about what he would find written on them anyway. What would be written on them anyway? And why would they have any writing to begin with? And why sheets of papers? Why not a book? Why would he have them?
“Oh, okay. Yeah, I don't know about the outsider-insider thing, but I did notice that some of the other blokes that I met on the path to this place caught a nasty, nasty case of dead.” He shrugged calmly, and slouched into his chair. Then he pored over the last part some more. “And I mean, me too, if you want to get really technical about it, but that was a long time ago and at least I had the foresight of developing my antibodies. As for that–”
His finger automatically followed the glass' movement from the woman's hand to the table.
“–look, you have no how much I am tempted to be a smartass here, but it doesn't work as well when you also don't know much about it, eh? Pretty sure that's booze mixed with some juice. Honestly, I'm almost positive somebody even gave it one of those cheeky names, you know? Stuff like ‘Seafront Coitus’ or whatever. Yes, that's a Seafront Coitus. And the little cubes inside it? They are called ice. Hah!”
There was no laughter that followed that ‘Hah!’ Only Mikkel shaking his head with a hand over his lower spine, roughly about where his stomach once was. And then a snap, followed by an ‘ouch, whatwasithinking’ when he slapped a bony knee with a just as bony hand.
“Yeah, sure. But if you must know, I do prefer myself some good ol' brawling tho–” A brief pause. “Oh-oh, wait, no, hold on a second, lass. You think I'm here to hunt? Like, have you not seen the chair? Me sitting on it? My sandals? Obviously I am here as a spectator. Here to watch the lots of you see how you take down the local beasts, wherever they are, or watch them buy you a one-way ticket to kingdom come, or republic come, you pick your preferred form of government. I mean, you probably know better than I do, but the latter seems to have occurred a lot over the past... I don't know, let's say two weeks. Two weeks. Beeest of luck. Hopefully Charon has run out of seats by now, eh? Charon? Or whatever you call your psychopomp.”
