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!
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G’raha’s magic works to repair the creature’s wounds, but not its mind. It remains the same twisted, half-human beast as ever, but as its flesh knits together, its labored breaths slow. It’s unconscious, but no longer in critical condition. Maybe it can be saved when all of this is over. Maybe.
The corpse on the bookshelf moves easily under Cissnei’s expertise. It appears to have been a servant of some kind, one not overtaken by the same terrible curse as the others. The man (for it’s still a man) was unlucky enough to be trapped underground in the monsters’ paths. Deep claw marks gouge through its chest. The bookshelf is thickly stained with blood.
It opens to reveal a narrow passage veiled in darkness. This passage has been largely abandoned by time, perhaps even forgotten by the lords of this house. Cobwebs draped the ceiling in thick shrouds, sometimes blocking the way like foliage through a jungle path. The wood creaks unevenly beneath your feet as you travel through. The space echoed with the scurrying of rats and a strange, unnatural hum growing ever louder.
There’s a switch at the end of the hall. Pulling it reveals another exit previously blocked by another faux bookshelf. You emerge to a faint blue light, pulsing slowly as though through water. The air smells of something harsh and chemical. A long table bisects the room, scattered with notes, vials, strange potions, and crystal shards. Behind it, a row of desks reveals the hurried, feverish work of a woman possessed.
Behind that are the vats.
They’re made of glass, spherical and bubbling with a mysterious liquid that gives off a faint, electric glow. Inside of one, a monster matching those outside floats, lifeless. The others are larger, split into segments by panes of glass. There are sixteen individual spaces in all. Six of them are occupied.
These figures are human.
All of them are unconscious. You find a woman with long blonde hair which Cissnei and Gau can identify as Celes Chere. Next to that is a rough, violet-haired man in a tunic (Faris Scherwiz), a stern looking knight (Vossler Azelas), a rich looking man with short blonde hair (Rufus Shinra), and a girl in an orange jumpsuit with long brown hair (Princess Garnet). There is no obvious way to remove them.
Castillo doesn’t turn to the newcomers to his conversation. In fact, he seems to only have eyes for his pipe -- too blazed to properly contemplate much of anything. At Lumina’s accusation, he gives a short huff of a laugh. ”Paid me to fail? Maybe though I didn’t get the impression he was the type. Crazy? Sure. Suicidal? Maybe he was.” He takes a long, deep draw of his pipe, blowing the smoke out his nose as he leans his head against the back of the couch.
”It’s bad for business,” he agrees. ”And this, kids, is why you don’t take jobs from lunatics.
”I never knew much about his plans, to tell you the truth,” he goes on. ”Just that it had to do with all of you and that old crystal he cared so much about. I was just here to keep those monsters from running off and starting problems for the town.”
He snorts. ”You want to know more? Go ask that psycho in the library. She’s as crazy as he is and about twice as dangerous. Whatever she’s involved with? I want nothing to do with it.”
Framed by that too yellow couch in that too yellow room, Castillo seems almost a part of the house himself, enveloped in it. Trapped in his garish cage. ”Why don’t you see what’s in that dungeon of hers, for me? Never could figure out how it worked. Doesn’t matter much now.”
He tilts back his head enough to watch them upside down. He winks. ”Just try not to end up caught in it yourselves.”
”Hello, hello.”
Doctor Susan Stein doesn’t turn to address Vincent. Instead, she stays hunched over her notes, pen flying over her notes. She doesn’t seem surprised by Vincent’s intrusion, but then, she doesn’t seem the type to be surprised by much of anything.
”So it’s that time already? That’s a problem. A problem, indeed. I have to finish these tonight, you see. Very important business. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
She leans back, frowning at her notes. They’re taken in a bizarre shorthand only legible to her, perhaps, the translations flashing behind her too-thick glasses. ”Run along if you wouldn’t mind. Just don’t disturb the statue.”
As to exactly which statue she means, it remains a mystery. There’s a statue in every corner of the room on closer inspection. On the southeast side, a marble carving of a frog perches squat and flat on a pedestal, its gemstone eyes dull in the low light. On the southwest side, the stone bust of a woman stands vigil over the library, her emerald eyes watching you with a strange intensity. On the northwest side, a statue of a tiger sits with one paw raised. Its one gemstone eye is fierce and strange. The other is missing.
The servants’ bath shows clear signs of a fight. The porcelain sink has been smashed in. The mirror is shattered. There’s blood smeared on the tiles. There are no signs of either the culprit or the victim, however. Clearly something happened in this basement. Something terrible.
The monster throws a metal helm at G’raha, and it clanks against the opposite wall, causing more suits of armor to crash to the ground. It raises its club-like arms to attack, but then pauses as G’raha speaks. Its twisted brow furrows. Confusion strikes its wild eyes. Then it makes a horrible groaning noise, stumbling back and grasping at its throat. It crashes into more sets of armor, strewing them aside as it loses balance and falls to the ground, making its strange croaking noises of confusion and pain.
Where the armor has fallen on the back wall, there is a switch previously hidden behind it. It can easily be pulled like a lever and appears to be stuck halfway. Light revealing the sets of armor reveals many symbols and emblems set within the chest plates. They are all of different animals.
Pulling the switch causes a sound like grinding gears from the servants' quarters before the bookshelf along the far wall clicks. The weight of the body sprawled over it has kept it in place, but it manages to swing open by less than an inch. Inside is sheer darkness.
Siren’s Treatment. Dispel. Curaga. These gentle lights engulf the crystal, mixing and boosting each other respectively. The darkness melts away in the face of this magic, banished like a fleeting shadow. The curative spell seeps deep within the crystal’s core, glowing quietly at first before the crystal’s own power reawakens and bursts from its depths in a brilliant aquamarine. The effect is almost blinding, and as it shines upon the three mages, it brings with it a feeling of peace.
’Thank you.’ A woman’s voice reaches them. A consciousness touches at the edge of their own. It’s a woman, a warrior, a legend, a white mage. She is the protector of the crystal and the spirit which guides it. With her touch comes a vague understanding of the world as it once was -- a world where gods graced the earth and the barrier was thin between the material and that of the beyond. The light engulfs them.
’May the crystals guide you.’
When their vision clears, the three find themselves on a rocky cliffside. The clouds have shifted to reveal a deep blue sky. The sea stretches out towards the horizon, calm though scattered with debris. Standing at the entrance to the water shrine, they’re met by only a cool, salty breeze.
The storm has ended.
Below them, the ship is waiting. Another journey down the rope ladder, and the three are reunited with Aerith who, sadly, was unable to find Bartz in the stormy sea. The ship departs, both elated by their success and weighted down by the boy’s fate. He was, miraculously, the ship’s only casualty.
The group is the second back to port. The warrior and sailors sent to fight the Kraken were successful, but at a great cost of lives. The group lost their ship to the great beast as well as the majority of their crew. The atmosphere is a mixed one. Some men off the side of the dock are cheering and clinking drinks together. Other dazed survivors have gathered by the docks, looking pale and in shock. A woman sobs on her knees, deep in mourning.
The city is in flooded shambles. Most of the harbor has been swept away. Still, the storm has passed, and no further destruction will be wrought today.
The three mages are quickly approached by the city’s royal emissaries and offered an audience with the king. They will be offered great riches for their service as well as renown within the area as mages of no small power. They will be asked questions as to what they saw within the shrine and the source of its corruption. They must have shown excellent magical skills to have cleansed it. No amount of persuasion will convince them otherwise.
The quest has been completed, disaster has been averted, and the heroes have returned victorious. The seas are, at last, reflect the peace of the crystal’s light.
The body is clearly inhuman -- or it is at the moment. The muscles show signs of stress. Bits of human skin still hang off the joints, holding on like a persistent scab. While it wears no clothes, a single boot still covers its right foot. Or half-covers, anyway. Its clawed toes have burst straight through, turning it into a kind of leather sandal.
The hallway is as dark as the food cellar. Five doors line it, three open. The one directly across leads to a servants’ lounge. The furniture here is smashed. Wood splinters cover the floor. The wallpaper has been ripped as though by a hand of claws. Scraps of torn fabric are scattered about. Servants’ clothes. Or what’s left of it anyway.
There’s a body roughly smashed into a bookcase along the central side. It is still human.
Down the hall, there’s a metallic clang and then a strained sound as though something is trying to speak through broken vocal cords. Another crash. Another shriek. It echoes hauntingly through the darkness.
The sound comes from the armory where racks of platemail and longswords line the walls. From the shadows, a lumbering monster hulks at over eight feet tall. It sounds pained, confused as it bumbles about, knocking over the armored sets as it goes. It hasn’t noticed you.
Genesis, Keimusho, Caius, and Emma have hardly finished introductions before there’s a shriek from down the hall. It echoes from the direction of the ballroom followed by a loud metallic crash. Following it leads to the kitchen just to the right of the ballroom. The doors are closed.
There’s another shriek. ”Help me! Help-!” The metallic clanging strikes like rain patter. Inside, the room is steamy and hot. A row of high top stoves segment the room in two, creating a kind of circular loop. Pots and pans are strewn about the floor, collecting condensation. On the other side of the room, a small woman ducks to the side, landing hard on the floor and scrabbling away, eyes wide. A monster comes lumbering after her.
It looks almost human through the steam. A solid-built human standing at eight feet tall. It charges after her, club-like arm raised to strike. Razor sharp claws extend from its fingertips. Its skin is hard and almost scaly. From its lopsided mouth protrudes a set of predator’s fangs. The woman raises her arms over her head, back pressed against a cabinet of cutlery and fine china.
Adjacent Locations
Pantry: The pantry door has been smashed open and half hangs off its hinges. This cluttered space is stacked with fresh food, grains, and milk bottles. These items are torn and scattered across the floor. A bag of apples has burst and the red and green fruit are strewn about in all directions. A section of floor leads to the wine cellar, but its door has also been forced open. A ladder descends into utter darkness.
Anna watches Tellah with sorrowful eyes. She doesn’t seem confused -- only heartbroken. She brings both her hands to her lips, covering them as her fingers tremble. She reaches out a hand as Tellah turns. ”Father!”
There’s a sudden crack of thunder, the howling of gale winds, and then the roof of the house is torn away. Above them is a raging sky, black and tumultuous. Rain pelts them in thick drops that cloud their vision. The wind is like a living thing, snatching and grabbing and threatening to tear them away. Anna screams and throws up her hands, protecting her head. The wind pulls at her, and she shrieks in fear.
”Help me! Father!” It unbalances her and she grabs for the table to keep herself steady, but the wind is already dragging her away. She’s lifted into the air, eyes wide and fearful.
And then the vision ends.
The three find themselves in a closed room, sitting with their necks deep in water that swells higher still. Just as before, there is a button inset with a crystal. Pressing it will deactivate the waterfall, opening a sliding door and releasing the flood of water within. The dark and slippery steps lead back into the crystal room.
The three shadows have been banished. The darkness surrounding the crystal has faded away. It hovers over its altar, spinning slowly.
A terrible shadow muddies its light. Free of protections, you can see the way that it drifts within it like a thunderous sky.
There are no more obstacles. The crystal of water is before you. You can sense its silent plea.
Anna does not look surprised at Garnet’s entrance. In fact, she doesn’t look at her at all. It’s as though she hasn’t spoken, and Tellah is all that exists.
She frowns as Tellah shakes his head. ”Father?” She stares at him, concerned. ”Feels...real?” Confusion and hurt is evident on her face, and the room darkens around her. Rainwater drips steadily from cracks in the ceiling. Anna watches as the realization turns within him. Tears touch at her eyes.
”Oh father.” She clutches at her chest and looks down, heartbroken. ”Does it matter? Even if I am a memory, does that make it any less real?”
Her flowers are forgotten. Her ribbons, scattered. From beyond them, the ghostly harp picks up again in a kind of mournful lament. ”Stay with me,” she pleads. ”You cast me out, and now I…” She shakes her head. ”It hurt more than I could say.”
As Quistis speaks, the storm rages on. The sorceress’ eyes blaze a fierce yellow in the rising darkness. For a time, the howling of the winds give their own answer, fighting against their fragile stone shelter. Rain falls in a great deluge, heedless of the seeming obstruction in their way. It showers upon Quistis, soaking her through. For a moment, it seems hard to so much as breathe.
Then Edea smiles. ”I’m proud of you,” she says and then disappears into Quistis’ spell.
The cliffside trembles and threatens to break. Darkness overtakes the sky. The water is pounding, blinding, and then…
Quistis awakens in a small, enclosed room filling quickly with water. The vision is nothing more than a memory.
Quistis finds herself sitting with her back against a stone wall. A waterfall has opened above her, and the water has risen to somewhere below her shoulders. The deluge of water strikes her from above, lit by the temple’s blue-green glow. Near the other wall is a protruding sphere. Pressing it opens a section of the wall, and the water tumbles down a set of slick stone stairs.
Once Quistis has descended, she finds herself back in the mirrored shrine. The crystal hovers above a pedestal, turning slowly. Two of its shadow guardians have dissipated. Only the woman with the long hair and dress remains, protecting it. Two other doors are open, leading up to darkness. One is silent and still damp with draining water. The other echoes with the sound of rain.
Climbing the second staircase leads to a familiar sensation. A nearly timeless climb. The shiver of magic. Then the heat of a desert and the smell of sand and flowers. Quistis emerges into an unassuming desert home -- her two companions already inside. Outside, the rain has strengthened in intensity. It leaks in rivulets into the home.
A woman stands tear stricken behind a table laden with flowers. She does not seem to notice Quistis’ entrance.
As Lumina presses the keys, each one clicks in turn. It’s soft, almost imperceivable, but as each specific hammer strikes the corresponding strings, the device attached to them lights like the first. Once all of the devices are lit, there’s a short electronic beep. A turning of gears.
The metal plate in the fireplace slides open.
Inside rests a yellow gemstone with a black slit down the center resembling a cat’s eye. It’s tightly set into its metal case, but can be easily removed. There is nothing at first glance strange about the stone, and yet, on closer inspection it seems to carry a hint of magic at its core. Just a hint, however. No amount of study will activate it into anything useful.
This is all unbeknownst to Vincent and Rufus who have already launched into their own investigations. The game room meets Vincent with a kind of dusty emptiness. It feels thoroughly abandoned, and perhaps not often used. There is a cabinet with packs of cards, extra pool balls, and other assorted recreations that seems undisturbed. Another cabinet of various liquors has accumulated a thick layer of dust. Still, despite the atmosphere, the room has clearly been visited within the last hour.
The hands of cards are unreadable without knowledge of the game at hand. Each card is printed with a number and a picture of a moogle, tonberry, or other creature. In the center is the rest of the pack. Upon closer inspection, it seems that they were thrown down quickly and with great urgency. But when would anyone have had time to play? And why four with so few keepers of the house?
Castillo laughs at Rufus’ criticisms. It’s a hard, rough laugh that speaks of many years spent smoking the pipe in his hand. ”It was all exactly as it was supposed to be,” he says. ”No use keeping it under wraps.”
The broad man leans back, arms spread out over the back of the couch. ”Though it could have gone better for old de Lune. He wanted to handle it all himself. And you see how that turned out.”
Adjacent Locations:
Game Room: Eight sets of armor stand vigil over the game room. They appear to have once been used in the Provo army, but they haven’t been used in some time. On one end is a fireplace, still hot with embers. Balls are scattered on the billiards table. The cards are placed around the game table in four hands. The remaining card deck has been scattered across the floor.
Yellow Lounge: The yellow lounge lives up to its name. Everywhere, there is a blinding yellow. The walls, the rug, the daisy flowers. Seated at one of the couches is Rowan Castillo, the mercenary hired to guard the manor.
Blue Library: The blue library is, as its name suggests, a soft, powdery blue. Despite its size, the room feels constrictive, walled in by its endless rows of bookshelves all reaching from the floor to the ceiling. The titles are all related to magitechnological pursuits. Time manipulation, magical components of genetics, reality shifting. There are several desks, all but one neatly tucked away. At this desk sits the famed Doctor Susan Stein, a woman so busy at her work that she doesn't notice your entry.
Anna’s eyes glitter happily. She rubs at one with the back of her hand. ”Oh thank you, father. I was worried. More than a little worried, actually.” She sighs then looks out the window. ”It’s raining,” she says. There’s something odd in her voice. Sadness? ”It’s going to flood. It always does.”
The rain has rapidly intensified. No longer a mere drizzle, it plummets from the overcast sky. The scene that was once set in vibrant yellows and blues turns gray and desaturated. Droplets leak through the ceiling over Tellah, splashing with a slow rhythm across his brow.
”I hope it clears soon.”
”Oh.” That is all that the woman before her says at first. It lingers like a hammer upon a nail in the silence between them. The winds pick up, howling as it strikes their stone shelter. For a moment that is all there is. Then the woman begins to laugh.
It is a slow laugh, quiet and restrained behind twisted lips. She raises a hand to her chin before tilting back her head and laughing louder. She looked out at the raging skies, eyes burning yellow.
”I see.” She watches the crashing of the waves. The air is charged with magic. ”You know I can’t do that. It’s not in my power. As great as it might be.
”I am a manifestation of your heart. The korruption of which you speak. Is there nothing of which you regret? Do you not feel the sorrow of loss? That you would be abandoned? That you would be betrayed? And what of the others? Were they not forced to karry arms before their time?”
She raises a hand, studying her discolored, claw-like fingers.
”You were their protektor! Their teacher! Is there nothing more that you could do to keep them from harm?” The woman who had once been Edea turned to her, eyes blazing. ”You ask how you might break the spell? Take that pain in your heart! Konfront it! Or you shall forever be akkursed!”
Darkness overtakes Garnet as she hurries up the staircase. For some time, it is the same as the path which she left, but in time, she comes across a kind of threshold. She feels the shudder of magic and the air becomes dry, smelling of sweet desert flowers. Dim, gray light casts away the darkness. Above her, there are voices -- Tellah and the warm voice of a woman she does not recognize.
”It’s going to flood. It always does.” A heavy pause. ”I hope it clears soon.”
Tellah speaks his words as Garnet reaches the end of the staircase and finds herself in a quaint desert home. Before her is a girl in a long yellow dress, her hair tied back in a ribbon. She stands before a table spread with flowers and brilliant bouquets. Outside, heavy rain falls. It patters against the roof in a solid rhythm.
