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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Post by Y'shtola Rhul on May 10, 2024 9:18:38 GMT -6
Y'shtola Rhul
Miqo'te | Age 32 23 | 150cm x 45kg (4'9 x 99) | F | Sorceress
She was there, at the far edge of creation, surrounded by stars, unborn planets and forgotten civilisations. The Scions and the Endsinger were battling, buying time for the Warrior to strike. As the miqo’te was casting her spell, dark flames engulfed her, bringing about an unbearable pain that choked the words within her throat, gnawing at her very soul. Pain and despair overtook her as she fell on her knees, unable to resist the concept’s power. A sudden surge of wind blew her away - or was it the pull of gravity?- and she felt herself drift away, shoved to one side and the other of what felt to her like a tornado.
Then there was a series of beeps, a familiar pull, the contraption in aether caused by an alteration in space, and the by now familiar sensation of teleportation. As soon as she felt something below her once again, she opened her eyes, only to see darkness. She felt so terribly out of place, and a pounding headache threatened her mental state. Her memories were foggy - all except her name, her magic and the very peculiar condition of her eyesight. She attempted to use aether to see but soon found out she could not manipulate aether at all in her current conditions.
She needed to find her rod.
”Urianger?” she muttered, but nobody answered. ”G’raha?” Nothing. ”Alphinaud? Alisaie? Thancred? Estinien?” She called her companions’ names one by one, but the only sound she could hear was the rustling of the leaves. Why were there leaves, actually? Was she not at the far edge of the universe? Or at the ship, at most… But it did not sound like it. Suddenly realizing her hand was touching something almost soft, she moved it. Grass? Where in the world had she ended? And why was nobody with her?
She felt weak, almost overwhelmingly so, but still, she gathered her strength in the attempt to find her rod in the close vicinity… only to find out it was not there. She sighed and tried to focus on her perception of Aether. There were so, so many living creatures around her. Trees, she deduced. But there was also something else. Someone. More than someone, to be completely fair. She could hear steps -or something that sounded like steps- but also something mechanical. It did not sound too close, nor did it seem like the entity was approaching, but it still felt to her like she would not be welcomed with a warm smile and a cup of tea.
Eventually, she stood. She had no idea where to go and having to move while seeing absolutely nothing was not ideal, but she could not stay where she was: slowly and with her arms extended forward, she started walking in the direction opposite to the mechanical sound. It was frustrating, having to move so slowly and carefully in order not to trip or get hit by the lower branches, but if she could not manipulate aether, she could not use it to see - and apparently, without a tool to cast magic, she could not even attempt the rawest forms of aetherial manipulation. The best thing she could do was to slowly and carefully walk until someone -or something- eventually found her, or until she found a way to a settlement of sorts.
It was all a haze. His thoughts, even his senses, were mired by this unfamiliar grogginess. The warrior remembered slaying his enemy, alongside his companions and fellow warriors. He remembered them touching the orb that would deliver them back to their time… but somewhere in-between, something transpired. Eyes clench and teeth grit as Setro grumbled into the ground beneath him. Slowly, pools of blue creek open, flickering with a few hard blinks to force that weariness to recede. Even as the muddied waters of confusion began to ebb, the light bearer knew something was amiss.
After a short while, Setro was already in a kneeling position, having grabbed both sword and shield that were thankfully within his reach. But he was quiet, or rather, he was taking in these foreign edifices that surround him. As the warrior observed, a few things had been gleaned — the others were nil to be seen, leaving him to surmise that perhaps they safely returned to Cornelia, whereas he remained this realm that was alien to him. But the shifting motion of his head halted when Setro could hear someone. It was faint, but enough to pursue.
By this point, his senses were rid of the mire, allowing the warrior to break into a light jog, stepping over the occasional debris that littered these derelict foundations. Whilst trying to zone in on where the voice echoed from, footsteps of industry would avail his hearing. Alas, when he reached the threshold between infrastructure and nature, he would see the wayward soul, along with the two automatons that appeared less than welcoming.
Setro was still weary from his abrupt arrival, so taking them on would require strength of the mind. To that end, he’d resort to sheathing his sword for a time, the warrior of light shifts to and fro, trying to find a rock of considerable size. Once he did, he’d pick it up and observe the mechanical creatures. Their path seemed linear, so redirecting them should be of little difficulty. He just needed to find something of note. As cerulean hues darted around, they widened once he saw a window of opportunity — yonder their march was a pillar worn and debilitated by time. One would hazard that any unexpected force might very well topple it.
That’s where the rock comes in.
With a considerable reel back, Setro would hurl the rock at what appeared to be the weakest point in the pillar’s structure. The noise alone reared the automaton’s attention. Soon the pillar began to give way, permeating the surrounding area with the sound of thunderous crashing and crumbling. Now! — With a few small jumps down towards the grassy knoll the woman was stumbling across, Setro leapt over from the building and quietly ran towards her. When he finally made it, his free hand would quickly coil around hers. Despite the haste, his touch was that of consideration as he muttered, “Quickly, they won’t be distracted for long,” before attempting to rush them into the thicket of trees and bushes that might conceal them.
Post by Y'shtola Rhul on Jul 22, 2024 10:34:40 GMT -6
Y'shtola Rhul
Miqo'te | Age 32 23 | 150cm x 45kg (4'9 x 99) | F | Sorceress
As she was walking towards the unknown, suddenly a crumbling sound made her turn. Ah, if only she could see. But she could not, so all she had was the crumbling sounds close to the heavy, metallic steps from before, a louder noise from likely the same origin, and a moment later steps quickly nearing her. She instinctively reached out for her rod, forgetting for a moment that she had lost it, and then flinched when the man’s hand reached hers. His words were more than enough for her to trust the man, only out of a sense of urgency, a need to get out of a considerably dangerous situation - as far as her ears could tell, at least.
Problem was, she could not see a thing.
“Ah-?!” she let out a surprised exclamation and did her best to keep up with the man’s speed, but tripped more than a few times, having to thank her swift feline reflexes if she had not fallen within the first five steps. “Wait, I-!” she attempted to stop him, but was interrupted by her foot clashing with a branch. This time, she actually tripped badly enough she was forced to slip out of the man’s grip by her own fall, which brought her to her knees.
She caught her breath for a moment, finding with a hand her way to a tree trunk to pull herself up. “I cannot see where I’m going, this will not work!” she explained, her gaze lost into nothingness as she looked in the general direction she thought the man would be. “Judging by the sound, they seem to be distant enough for us to seek a hiding spot before they reach us. Do you see anywhere suitable?” she asked. Her ear though soon twitched as a sound caught her attention. It was far closer than the other ones.
“Forget what I said. Have you the strength… to carry me?” Those last few words were pushed out of her lips almost by force. She was a prideful woman, and the thought of having to be carried was most definitely not something she would have normally accepted, especially from a stranger, but he seemed to know what was happening and to be able to see - and that could save both their lives. Until she’d find a suitable vessel for her to channel her magic, she would only be a useless burden to her saviour. At the very least, she could try to make herself somehow useful with her keen hearing. “I am deeply sorry, but without a means to channel my magic, I am entirely useless in a place such as this.”
In his haste, he had overlooked that ailment, and albeit this being their first encounter, once she exclaimed that debilitation, Setro quickly helped her up. “Forgive me.” It was succinct yet sincere, given their current predicament, but the feline had to rely on his sight for a time. So when she had asked if there were any discernible cover they could utilise, the silence she would perceive thereafter was him scanning their surroundings. He had to be quick, lest they garner the attention of an automaton.
Setro would fare well against such an adversary, but he won’t risk her getting caught in the crossfire.
Littered throughout the valley were noticeably large bodies of debris, ideal for protection but could be susceptible to compromise. Not good enough. It is nature that will aid their endeavour, something that thankfully came in abundance, and with Setro’s distraction still holding sway, these two were allotted with ample time. His observations finally bore fruit when those clear, cerulean hues popped with a mixture of relief and hope — beyond their aggressors lies what appeared to be a small grotto.
His attention, however, was stifled by her lamentations, urging him to look back at her. She was capable, that much Setro knew. Mayhaps the grief of acknowledging her vulnerability outweighed her malaise. “You have nothing to apologise for, my lady. Though we are beset by tribulations, you still draw breath.” His voice, though stern like a hardened warrior, carried with it an indelible warmth.
What she would hear next is metal smothered by leather as the warrior sheathed his sword. Stepping closer, he quickly uttered, “I’ve located what appears to be a grotto nearby. But we must act quickly before these machines return.” There was a shift and turn, a process whereupon he turned his back to her before taking both her hands and roping them over his shoulders. The modicum of delicacy Setro applied was a vast improvement from his prior handling. With both of them in position, he finally asks, “Are you ready?”
Post by Y'shtola Rhul on Jul 28, 2024 5:13:29 GMT -6
Y'shtola Rhul
Miqo'te | Age 32 23 | 150cm x 45kg (4'9 x 99) | F | Sorceress
She denied with her head as the man apologised about not noticing her blindness. Of couese he wouldn't, not even the Scions had noticed initially. "Nothing to forgive." she replied, before asking if he could find somewhere to hide. She waited patiently for an answer as, she supposed, the man was looking around. Her ears then caught the sound of a nearing enemy and she asked him to carry her, gulping down her pride.
Eventually, he revealed he'd found a place to hide in, a grotto, and then gently positioned her hands on what she supposed to be his shoulders. It was a clear invitation to jump on his back to be carried, and as soon as he asked her if she was ready, she replied affirmatively and helped herself up his back. She did not like that, but she could not act differently in her current condition. She was not used to the different concentration of aether, or to its feeling, and so she could not manipulate it in any way.
"By the Twelve.." she muttered under her breath. She could not help but feel worried and frustrated by her inability to manipulate aether without her rod, but she would try her best not to be too much of a burden. She held on as firmly as she could, obviously also trying not to choke the poor man, as he swiftly carried her wherever he had meant to.
Her silence carried a weight Setro could sympathise with. A warrior’s shortcomings are oft suffered in silence, usually by one’s own volition. Addressing it would be akin to throwing salt on a fresh wound. But once there was a considerable heft of her forearms across his chest-plate— a sign of the feline’s preparedness, their tarrying was over. With clenched fists, he hooks his arms around and under her legs, bracing her frame to his before coming to a stand. How strange it would’ve felt, to know her weight seemed no more than a trifle to the knight. In the instance prior to the intended path, Setro took in a deep breath, nodded and would say with a quiet yet firm tone, “Let us be off.”
The first step was slow in nature as he slightly hunched over. Understandably one might discern this as him being unable to bear her weight. Immediately after, however, Setro, with the feline in tow, broke off into a tenaciously fast pace. Whatever flora impeded them was broken through and whatever could’ve compromised his footing was leapt over, all the while showing no signs of slowing down or loosening his grip. As a warrior, he made it a habit of disciplining his body to peak performance. As such, he had the tactical foresight to train in events like this. A good payoff.
That payoff would be tested soon enough after a few seconds. What Setro couldn’t see from yonder was the gorge betwixt where they are and where they needed to be. Ever the steadfast man that he is, the warrior persisted in that hastened pace but quickly exclaimed, “Brace yourself!” No more than a few seconds later, the feline would be subjected to that hunched feeling she had endured before this all transpired. Cobbling together the amalgamation of strength and momentum, Setro exhaled a grunt as he catapulted them both over the large crevice.
Throughout all this, Setro would have figured being sightless would warrant her a modicum of fear and uncertainty— yet he held her firmly no matter what. She trusted him for this task, a task that came to fruition once he landed. The impact ran through them both like a shock as the warrior of light dug his feet in, skidding across earth and stone until edging into the aforementioned grotto and coming to a gradual halt. A barely audible pant hushed its way through his lips, but recuperation came after his stated. “Forgive the abrupt landing, but we made it.”
Post by Y'shtola Rhul on Aug 4, 2024 12:53:21 GMT -6
Y'shtola Rhul
Miqo'te | Age 32 23 | 150cm x 45kg (4'9 x 99) | F | Sorceress
After climbing up the man's back, Shtola tried her best to hold onto him and not let her uneasyness show. She most definitely did NOT like not to have any control over the entire situation, but she was forced by the events to go with the flow and let the man handle it all. Oh, how she despised feeling like a damsell in distress! She was a full grown and independent woman.
The man's warning brought her out of her thoughts and she managed to tighten her grip just before feeling the man leap. Her heart skipped a beat as she worried about whatever could be happening and wherever they might be going, but fortunately the landing arrived quickly, if a little abruptly.
"Ah, thank the Twelve!" she could not help but exclaim as the man revealed they had arrived. She loosened her grip, waiting for him to catch her sign and let her climb down, then she sighed. "And thank you." she said, looking in his general direction. She would not be ungrateful before a man who very likely saved her life. For the time being, at least.
"There are two things we need to do now." she then started, crossing her arms. "One: to find my rod -or any magical item that can be used for spellcasting, as I figure my rod might be wherever those machines were and we will most definitely not go back." She extended her arm, walking to a side until she eventually reached a wall. "Second: to find a way out of this.. forest, I suppose? And possibly to some civilized place. Do you happen to know our location, by chance?" after this, she hesitated for a moment.
"Ah. I am Y'shtola. Sorceress. If I can wield a rod again, that is, as I seem to be unable to cast spells without one, here."
Once the feline loosened her grip, he would lean back to make her dismount a mite easier before turning around to hear her delineate what they had to do during this time of uncertainty; the same uncertainty that forced her to spare Setro from potentially inundating him. However, akin to a fresh wound, he refrained from spreading salt on it, but rather offered a means to mend it with a bandage, figuratively speaking. As such, he would spare her the spiel of sympathy, which was an unwitting service because the warrior was a man of action and perseverance — something she might very well prefer over sensitivity.
“Well met, Y’shtola. I am Setro, a knight of Cornelia. I was spirited away to this world, so I know not of our surroundings.” The warrior rests one arm across his stomach whilst the other sits atop it, adopting a ponderous stance as his hand hovers against his lips. “The automatons did indeed appear fixated. Perhaps they can discern foreign magics. As it stands, without a staff, our options have grown thin.” Voicing the over looming tribulations they are beset by, he kept his steely blue gaze upon the feline. But shortly after, they widened with a wayward curiosity as he looked down to his personal effects, namely his shield.
“Y’shtola,” paused Setro, filling the air with metallic footsteps as he approached a safe distance from the woman before inquiring, “... permit me to voice an idea. My shield— I admit it is no staff, but it is capable of channelling defensive spells at my disposal.” For Y’shtola, the following sound was Setro gripping his shield and holding it aloft their waists. With that, the warrior finally asks, “Could you use it as a temporary medium for your magic until we find your staff or something of equivalent value?”
