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.
The worm doesn't hesitate. It doesn't question itself. It heaves in air through acidic slobber and smells its prey. It feels the vibrations of their heartbeats in stone and it hears them, prattling back and forth to each other in endless chatter. The worm is fearless. It is enraged.
It is hungry.
It doesn't understand that it's been spotted, but it does understand pain. As it charges one of its targets, it finds that its teeth meet nothing but air. It thrashes its body, trying to find the missing woman before stabbing pain shoots through its body. Something has pierced its flesh. Several times. The cards stab its skin, and though the cuts aren't deep, they send blood flying in misty droplets. Confused and unable to grasp its prey, the worm gives a horrible screech before starting towards the nearest tunnel. It charges through it, disappearing into the darkness as it whips around a corner into shadow.
There's a loud grating sound. The ground trembles with weight. Half a minute passes as the caverns tremble, threatening to give in on themselves. The vibrations grow louder, more violent, before finally the worm erupts from the stone wall behind them, scattering rock and debris in every direction and threatening to swallow anything within ten feet of its gaping maw. It is in pain. It is angry. And it will have blood.
He looks the man over again. A strange, lanky man in an ill-fitted uniform with a cat firmly attached to his head. He had scratch marks all over his scalp and forehead -- some of which are bleeding, and his hair is a mess of tangles and frizz from the cat's claws. Still, he lets this strange man, Matt, keep talking. The man paused before telling his name and then winced as though it physically pained him say it aloud. The man said that after some kind of chaos below, he'd thought only to transport a common set of armor up the teleporter, and he'd done so all with a cat on his head. "It's claws are buried deep in my scalp and I can't seem to shake it," he said, as calm as though they were discussing the matter over tea instead of under the claws of a feral animal. "Any help with its removal would be much appreciated."
Matt smirked to himself before glancing away. He looked almost smug with his tilted head and not-so-hidden smile, and the guard could think of nothing else to do but stare as the man bowed his head and continued about "important work" that was "worthy of his station." When the man had finally finished, the soldier blinked back at him for nearly twenty seconds before squeezing tight at the bridge of his nose.
He'd never heard a worse series of lies in his life.
"You-" he starts, but can't bring himself to finish. He lets out a short breath before continuing. "Are you trying to get to the top of the tower?" His eyes are wary as he looks them over. Almost tired. "I was told to look out for someone like you. Heroes of light or something like that? The High Mage said to keep alert for odd people sneaking in. Said they'd come in groups, probably." His eyes sweep over them again before they narrow on the suit of armor. "In here?" he asks but raps on the metal with his knuckles before he can get an answer. With his suspicions confirmed, he gives a long sigh.
"Come with me." He gestures for them to follow, waiting until they're able to do so before walking off. "There's someone who'd probably want to meet you." He leads them down three hallways and up a flight of stairs before speaking again. "The High Mage. She doesn't see eye to eye with the Crystal Guard. She's done research, you see. Thinks that only a heart of pure good or chaos could take the power up ahead, and he suspects that good hearts should be coming through. Of course, the Guard put up a fuss anyway, but the High Mage thinks they're only worth his time if they can get inside anyway. I guess you did." Another three flights of stairs, down two more halls, and he stops outside a heavy pair of oak doors. He looks at them before glancing at Matt and frowning. "You'll have to take care of your, uh, problem yourself," he says, gesturing to his scalp. "I'm allergic to cats."
With that, he pushes in the doors to a cramped and cozy office space. A fireplace crackles invitingly in the corner and sheds a flickering light upon walls of bookshelves filled with worn and dusty tomes. Behind a mahogany table, an old woman stands with her hands behind her back, eyeing a shard of glass that glows blue at her touch. When the door opens, she jumps and looks up to face them, eyes wide before she quickly flits over to meet them. Her voice breaks as she and the guard exchange words, and she her voice comes so fast and so shrill that she sounds more like a parrot than a woman. When the soldier tells her what he's found, she freezes before turning to look at them as though she's seen them for the first time.
"You...?" she says before waving her hand at the soldier. "Well leave us alone then! What are you doing still standing there!" She rushes at him, waving her hands until he's left and the doors have closed behind him. Then she turns back to the remaining guests, clicking ehr tongue thoughtfully. "The three of you...?" she says before shaking her head. "Yes, yes! The tomes have foretold your arrival! The souls of harmony! Here to save the crystal from the hands of chaos! Of course, of course!"
She hurried behind her desk, but doesn't sit down as she turns to face them. Instead, she leans forward on the desk, eyeing them closely. "Unless you're chaos in disguise..." she says, and her eyes narrow. "Tell me. Why should I trust you with the crystal's power? I'm holding the fate of the world in my hands, and I won't entrust it to just any stranger with a cat stuck to his head!"
The cargo bay was in chaos. Boxes were smashed. Guards toppled over. Crates leaking. This was, without a doubt, the absolute worst day for any single employee of the World Sight guard.
It was for this reason that no one noticed the odd, lanky man waddling a suit of armor awkwardly towards the teleportation pad. The guards and workers were far too preoccupied with damage control to realize that the man didn't work there. They didn't wonder why on earth he was moving forward so slowly with a suit of armor meant for one of the guards. Instead, they tried to block off the route for the cat, tried to reign in the dog, and tried to clean up smashed boxes while weeping for the jobs they might not keep in the morning.
In fact, no one noticed the stowaways until the teleporter hummed with activated magic and the cat dashed forward, leaping at the man's head. By then, it was too late. They had only a second to lament their failure before the light overtook them and they were gone.
The teleporter leads to a worker's wing inside of the tower. There's a rather sparse hallway, dimly lit by torches with various rooms containing offices and private libraries branching off of it. There's a hustle inside as workers and scholars go about their nightly readings. A few glance in the direction of the armor and cat, but do nothing but mutter a few words before shaking their heads and continuing on.
Down the hall, a group of four or five workers mill about and loudly complain about having to use the teleporter now that the tower doors are sealed by magic. They hope that the mages can figure out a way to open them soon because going through the underground takes far too long. Meanwhile, a passing scholar mutters to himself about the artifacts at the top, wondering what a "worthy hero" could mean.
After a few minutes, a guard clanks past -- heavily armored but for his head. As he pauses to glance at the odd man with the armor and a cat, his eyes sharpen. "I don't recognize you," he says. "And you're not wearing any identification. Tell me, what's your name and rank? I'll have to report you."
OOC: ((If only Mateus wants to answer this since he's the only one outside of armor and not a cat, that would be acceptable. Unless the others feel like acting here.))
The tunnel is dark, growing darker with every step. Once the tunnel twists beyond its opening, there's no natural light at all -- not even the blue beacon from outside. The ground is uneven with jutting corners, crumbling gravel, and sudden drops that weren't carved by human hands. Far away, there's the sound of distant water, though it's hard to say in what direction. The air is damp and smells of mildew and rot. This place has clearly not been visited by workers recently or perhaps ever at all.
For the first long stretch, there's only a very unsteady and very unpredictable tunnel until it abruptly ends in a dusty room that might have once held sarcophagi, now smashed into stone pieces on the floor -- their contents lost to time. From this angle, it's clear that the tunnel's entrance was once a solid wall, burst open from the tunnel's side. The debris covers everything in a thick layer of grime and stone dust.
There's only one way forward, but what must have once been an archway has been broken at the edges, leading to a cave-in that reaches about three feet high. Over the pile of rocks, there's a badly damaged tunnel, and at the end of that, a ladder leading up to the bottom end of a trap door. However, the ground vibrates as you approach. There's a horrible slithering sound and a crash as another parallel hallway caves. Between the ladder and the sarcophagi emerges the slimy, undulating form of a giant worm nearly as large as the hallway that houses it. It makes a low groaning noise as it approaches, its front end almost entirely made up of an open mouth, drooling poisonous acid from its lips. It waves its mouth about as though sniffing the air before charging down the tunnel towards its potential prey.
The nearest guards hesitate at the words of the woman in red. A sense of dread passes between them -- knowing what's about to happen but far too late to stop it. The air crackles with electricity which strikes in a bolt of violet light, bouncing from conductive armor to conductive armor until over a dozen screams rattle the air, and over a dozen of the armored men fall heavily to the ground, unmoving.
The crowd thins and doesn't dare fill in the space left by their fallen comrades. Instead, the remaining guards fall back, yelling something about magic as they retreat to the steps of the towering citadel for safety. The archers are on full alert, angling to get a better shot but still unable at this distance. The intruders are far more dangerous than they thought, and simply running headfirst into them would be suicide.
Beyond the retreating crowd of guards, the steps of the World Sight lead to a cobble-stoned plateau rimmed with ancient columns and a crumbling half-wall which the archers have chosen to take shelter behind. The double doors of the tower shadow the steps, heavy with wood and bolted iron. When viewed from a certain angle, an odd red shimmering coats the door -- caught in the glint of blue that bathes the night. As the intruders approach, one guard lets out a panicked noise and rushes to the doors, yanking on the handles but to no avail. The doors won't budge -- perhaps due to magical enchantment. About thirty feet above the door, there's an opening in the wall that might have once been a window but it's currently without glass. It's far too high for the guards to reach, so they don't even try. With their backs against a wall, their only option is to fight.
One moment, it was a normal work night in the middle of the subterranean cargo bay. The next moment, there was only chaos.
It all started with the cat. The workers didn't think much of it as it weaved and darted between them; only one even commented on it with a cooing appreciation. No one noticed the dog, stiffened and alert at the sight of it, perched so smugly in front of a loaded crate. The dog's ears perched forward at the cat's mew and it gave a low, warning growl. 'Leave if you know what's good for you.' The cat did neither of those things. Instead, she batted nonchalantly at her ear and let out an insult so vicious that for a moment, the dog could only stare at the cat in shock as though it had been smacked on the nose with a wooden cane. All around, the animals froze and turned to watch the dog. A few rats squeaked in laughter. Above them, an owl hooted its warning to the foolish cat that thought it could go around taunting dogs four times its size without recompense. A second passed and then another before the shock cleared from the dog's expression and its eyes narrowed, its teeth bared in a vicious snarl.
Rufus Woofington the Fourteenth came from a proud line of guard dogs, trusted with warding off intruders for generations. He couldn't stand idly while his family legacy was tarnished by a skinny, no-good, fish-smelling, smart-talking cat.
The knight beside him only noticed the trouble a second after the dog's hackles had raised. "Hey, I think something's wrong with the do-" he started before the words were drowned in a single, booming bark that rattled the crates around him. The dog's teeth flashed white as he threw himself mouth first at the cat.
Only to misjudge the distance. Rufus Woofington didn't slow himself even as he crashed bodily into the crate, toppling it over in wooden splinters as his paws scrabbled for purchase on the stone floor and he dashed after the black shadow of mewling fur. There were shouts now and cries of pain as the dog barreled into everything in his path, snapping and snarling all the while. Barrels were toppled and sent spilling over the ground. Workers who couldn't dodge out of the way in time were trampled, their ankles bitten as the dog charged forward in a mad fury, his eyes flashing red with murderous intent. The guards on the teleportation pedestal could only stare in horror for a moment before they started after him, yelling all the time.
"Someone stop that dog! He's-! It's Rufus! He's gone mad!"
"He's after a cat! Who let a cat in here? We told you to check the carts!"
These too were lost beneath the thunderous tenor a dozen barks.
The guard pauses, his eyes sweeping over the cargo inside. He lifts his lantern to better illuminate the scene in front him: nothing but provisions, albeit disheveled ones. His lantern catches on the shine of fish juice seeping across the cart's floor directly into a pile of uniforms scattered and heaped together in a smelly mound. "What the hell happened in here?" he mutters and then pulls back, letting the tarp fall back into place as he marches towards the front of the cart. "Your cargo. It's ruined. Just how bad was your driving?" The driver gives some kind of gruff excuse, going on about the darkness and the state of the road. After a few minutes, the guard recommends that he check in with his supervisor before leaving, the sound of his armor clanking into the distance.
Silence falls as the knight's footsteps fade into the distance. Once he's sure they're alone, the driver curses under his breath and hisses back at the stowaways. "Thanks a lot. I'll get chewed out for this, I swear." Without another word, he adjusts the reigns on his chocobos and the cart jolts forward again.
The driver edges the cart forward slower this time and more carefully. While it's still not the smoothest of rides, it's at least easier to balance. The cart continues forward for another quarter of an hour before finally slowing its pace. There's muffled sounds of conversation outside, and the warking of distant chocobos. As the sounds get louder, the blue light fades away to be replaced by uneasy lantern light spread evenly from all sides. For another five minutes, the cart descends into darkness -- angled downwards. As it rights itself, someone directs the driver forward, and when he finally stops, he whispers back to the stowaways that his job is done -- whatever they're doing, just keep him out of it. With that said, he hops down from his perch and walks away.
No one immediately comes to check the cart. Outside of it, there's a cavernous, underground room with jagged stone walls and a tunnel leading upwards where more chocobo-driven carts enter. Similar carts pack the place and uniformed workers busy themselves with loading and unloading them -- sorting the cargo into several mounds before ferrying them away. Several guards keep watch at the entrance to the tunnel and about the sorted cargo, but they look bored and not particularly attentive. Once the cargo's been sorted from a nearby cart, the crates of what look to be food are then hauled to the other side of the room where three guards stand watch next to a lithe, canine-looking beast which sniffs the crates intently. When they've passed inspection, the crates and workers step aboard a platform engraved with odd runes which then glows blue and engulfs them in light. When the light fades, both the cargo and the workers have disappeared and the next group steps forward to take their place.
The workers seem to be unloading the carts in a line. There are two remaining before they reach the stowaways.
As soon as the suspicious group of travelers come too close, an armored guard steps forward, voice cautious but intimidating all the same. "I'm going to need you to leave," he says. "You're not authorized to be he-." Before he can finish the thought, two fists slam into his full body armor, denting it with its impossible force. He lets out a gargled cry as the impact of dented metal juts into his flesh, and his ribs break. The cry acts as a warning beacon to every soldier in the immediate area. They turn towards the intruders, and every single one of them in the nearest four hundred yard radius charges forward, wielding spears, swords, and arrows alike.
From the distance, a bell gongs frantically. An alarm signal. All soldiers on alert. Protect the World Sight at all costs. Beyond the mass of clinking bodies, the steps of the World Sight are visible for only a second before the swarm overtakes them. The gates are about a half mile away and there must be at least five dozen guards between them and the intruders. Connecting the two, there's only an uneven road that drops off at sharp angles into mountainous ravines. Alarmed by this commotion, the dragoon woman -- Eillien -- mutters something about this not being what she signed up for as she slips away, leaving the other three to fend for themselves.
There's a cry from the gates, and about six archers unleash a hail of arrows. They're inaccurate from this distance, but could become deadly at closer range.
The World Sight will not fall. The citizens of Zephon have seen too much strife and destruction already. They're determined to stop more of these dangerous foreigners from taking anything else from them again.
A few minutes pass as the irritable driver curses under his breath, rocking the cart as he attempts and finally succeeds in attaching it to his team of chocobos. When he comes around, there's a fire in his eyes. "You!" he gestures at Eluma. "The money you gave me, it's no good! You think you can trick me? Think again!" He drags her off the cart, and the girl -- being without a real conviction, lets him with only minor protest. With that done, he stalks back to the entrance and peers at the remainders closely. "Just don't cause me any troubles," he said. "The knights here reward intruders with death, and you won't see me claiming to know you." With that, his eyes rake the cart for the cat and, seeing nothing, he grunts and closes the tarp behind them, tying it so that only a crack of moonlight shines through. As he arranges himself in the front, his live cargo are left entirely alone.
The cart jerks forward as he urges on his avian team. It rocks unsteadily, jumping with every crack and crevice of the uneven road. With it, the cargo tilts and threatens to topple over. Next to the crate of fish, there's several canisters of a flammable smelling oil, a large heap of unused clothes (three of which appear to be uniforms), a single large suit of armor, and a barrel of what appears to be foul smelling pickles. It's cramped, but only so much that a child could hide behind them unless they got creative. The crates themselves could hold an adult if they tried, but every one of them is too full to do so. The cart jerks ahead slowly but surely.
After about a quarter of an hour, there's a shout and several muffled voices. The cart stops, and the driver says something back. A light grows closer and stops near the front as a gruff voice addresses the driver. "Have to check your cargo," it says. "Had a couple of stowaways last week. Had to deal with them." The driver laughs nervously and makes a joke about only having pickles and fish back there. He stalls for a few minutes before the lantern's light edges around the back and towards the tent flap. For several seconds, someone fumbles with the tarp's tie before it's flung open. A wicked looking guard stands there in full armor covering him from head to toe. He lifts his lantern to investigate the scene before him.
