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.
As Lycoris examines them, she finds that the glass shards were blasted outwards from the rising dais in the center of the ballroom. The combination stone and glass column reaches up towards the center of the domed ceiling, and while most of it remains intact on the higher levels, some of it was blown out even this high up. Looking down, you find that it is completely shattered on the lower levels.
Also looking down, you find that the crystal which was hovering in the middle of that dais when you left that ballroom has now been spirited away.
The tiles are scattered, uprooted, and loose. It seems that many of them were struck with a great downwards precision by a thin weapon. While searching for fabric, you find tufts of white fur and a few black feathers.
A man calls something from below, but the words are indistinct and echo around the domed ceiling. You catch the words, ’uncultured’ and ’abode.’
As Genesis floats down to the ballroom, he finds that the railings are smashed inwards and no wooden shards were thrown out over the side. The dais’ glass column has been entirely destroyed near the bottom, and cracks have snaked their way all the way to the top, periodically losing more shattered glass. The glass was shattered outwards.
Genesis’ feet touch the ballroom floor. There are four people still there: a strangely dressed nobleman, a fighter, the butler, and a woman in a suit. The crystal which you’d caught a glimpse of only seconds before is now missing.
None of the destruction above is reflected on the ground floor ballroom.
Genesis makes it easily back to the third floor. The trashed room hasn’t changed since he left it.
Adjacent Locations:
Parlor Room: The parlor is dimly lit by candles melting on a cabinet along the wall. To one side is a china cabinet displaying plates and silverware. To another is a table and comfortable looking armchair. A bottle of wine sits on this table with two glasses, half full. A portrait hangs on one wall of a man who looks suspiciously like Jules de Lune.
Main Bathroom: This bathroom is meant for large numbers of guests relieving themselves from ballroom parties. Fresh linens are set out for your arrival. Several toilet stalls are set into the wall. A mirror hangs over the sinks. It has been covered by a sheet.
West Wing Hallway: The west wing hallway leads to the multitude of guest rooms where you would have stayed. Windows along the inner quadrant show an aerial view of the western courtyard. You remember that the servants had claimed to bring whatever possessions you’d travelled with up to these rooms.
East Wing Hallway: The east wing hallway leads to the quarters of permanent guests. Its current resident is the scholar Susan Stein. Windows along the inner quadrant show an aerial view of the eastern courtyard.
Quistis smiles, braces herself, and falls into the well. The water ripples at her touch, but as she slips below it, nothing of her is seen from the outside. It’s as though she’s slipping into nothing -- a strange glass dimension where she won’t be reflected. In a moment, she’s gone. Vanished into thin air as though she’d never been there at all. Below, the shrines image is nearly unchanged. While there is no Quistis, the feminine, spiky headed shadow has disappeared. One of the doors in the reflection has opened.
Their physical room is quiet. The crystal has not appeared for Garnet and Tellah and no doors have opened around them. They are alone.
A shiver passes over Quistis as her head slips below water. Her vision falls away, leaving her suspended in a strange void where she feels herself floating ever down. There’s a vague light in the distance that becomes more powerful the longer she falls. A woman’s voice whispers, ’Pray, cleanse these waters and thy heart.’
Quistis wakes face down on hard stone. She finds herself in a gleaming, immaculate shrine not so unlike the one she left. This one has been untouched by time -- the columns are no longer crumbling, the stone is no longer worn, and the walls reflect a deep black that could go on forever. She awakens where the well would be, but is no longer. The entranceway to leave is shrouded in a deep, impassable mist.
The room is lit in a familiar blue-green -- but there are no sigils like above. The only light comes from the brilliant power of the crystal. It is nearly blinding as it hovers above its pedestal, turning in a slow, aimless dance. The arches opening around it are sealed with a shimmering, shadowy veil. Two indistinct forms stand vigil at either side of the dais. One, heavy-set with what looks like horns about its head. The other, an indistinct woman in a dress. Quistis can approach these figures, but they repel her at the touch. They will not allow her passage to the crystal.
”Quistis! You here? Where are you?”
A child’s voice calls out from beyond an echoing tunnel. One of the doors around the perimeter has opened, and stairs lead up into an unknown landing. From here, she hears a voice. A familiar, boy’s voice of maybe eight years old. Among others.
”Course she’s here! She wouldn’t go far!”
”Really?” The voice is surprised. Hopeful. ”Where is she then?”
A pause before, ”Shut up, chicken-wuss!”
The pair’s arguing echoes from the staircase, calling to her. There’s no magic drawing her in. Only those two familiar voices, lost to time.
The lion engraved plate is easily removed. It has a certain weight in Graha’s hands, but feels otherwise unremarkable. There is a nearly inaudible click as it is removed. Nothing else changes -- at least nothing that is immediately apparent to the eye.
Th waiting room is cold and lifeless with only a vase of flowers to decorate it. Three couches face each other awkwardly. The storm rages against the windows, rattling the glass and obscuring the view with fog. Two bookshelves line one wall. The far door leads to the cloak room. The strange meat smell continues down this way.
The smell is not the same as the corpse. It doesn’t smell of rot, but as it grows stronger in the waiting room, it does smell of death. And blood though even that feels slightly odd. It’s not human blood.
The texts on the bookshelves are mostly uninteresting. Still, there is a common theme among them. Dimensional theory. The mechanics of magic. There is a title mixed in among them from the Sonoran Scientific Academy titled, ’Advanced Genetic Theory.’ There is nothing else of particular note about the shelves. The books have been dusted recently.
Adjacent Locations:
The Cloak Room: This room is dark and cramped with lines of shelves. There are no windows and no candles. The only light comes from the open door of the waiting room. There are coats here, and yes, cloaks. Do these all belong to the de Lune family? It seems unlikely, and in fact, several of them are wet with rain. Do they belong to the guests? You don’t remember hanging your coat (if you had one) in this room.
The East Hallway: Candles are set into the wall here -- all lit. Rivulets of wax drip down them from the wick. This wing is meant primarily for servants, storage, and other practical matters. Directly adjacent to the cloak room are the men’s servant quarters, the butler’s bedroom, and the servant’s hall. The hallway also connects to the pantry, the women’s servant quarters, and the bedroom of Primrose Ware, the maid who was present when you woke. The odd smell leads to the storage room.
Vincent does not find any secret passages -- at least not on first inspection. The books here are well dusted though not particularly well used. You find titles of many topics from the lineage of the de Lune family to the local politics of Provo. They are, for the most part, waiting room material. However, there are a few more interesting collections scattered among the dull histories. There’s a book, for instance, on the old gods of Zephon. Another is titled, ’Theories of the Spirit Road.’ Yet another reads, ’People of the Great Dragon.’
It is too dark to see anything in the piano as Garnet peers inside. The room is lit too inconsistently with the flickering of the fire. However, after a moment’s study, she can make out the glint of something metal inside -- tangled up in the piano strings. Or more accurately attached to them. There’s some kind of device hooked up to the piano.
Music echoes through the room as Rufus plays. It is a haunting, muted melody that stands out in striking chords through the silence. His fingers dance up the keys, and find that a few meet some kind of minor resistance. Four of them, in fact, that give a short click below the note. It is imperceivable to anyone but Rufus who might feel the resistance and Garnet who is the only one close enough to hear the sound.
The tonberry waddles about at Lumina’s command. It doesn’t seem to find anything, but in the lantern light, it becomes more apparent that the family crest engraved into the fireplace is slightly indented.
Adjacent Rooms
Round Room: The opposite door leads to the round room -- or rotunda. The ceiling here is made of domed glass revealing a dark and raging sky. A column stands in the middle of the room, acting as support for the observatory ceiling. The final door leads to the hallway.
The boats sail quietly over the water’s surface. The city below passes by -- a brilliant, ephemeral memory. The song echoes with a haunting melody, continuing on until it is but a whisper on still water.
You continue into darkness.
After what could be minutes or a quarter of an hour, you see a mist rising from the water’s surface. It rolls from the cave’s endless black ceiling in a foggy veil. Once again, there is a sense of magic. You can see nothing beyond that veil, and as you approach, it seems to whisper a song of its own. This time, there are no words and no emotions which reach you. Only a shiver of power as you pass beneath the mist.
You have reached your destination.
The far bank comes into view, lit by more of rune stones which set the scene in their blue-green glow. There is a dock for the boats leading to a smooth stone landing. A set of double stairs rise up and join together at the entrance to a temple set into the cave wall. An archway frames the shadowed entrance, and as the party approaches, each sigil along its edge lights in turn.
Inside is a circular room made of impossibly smooth stone. Six small staircases frame the room’s edge, equidistant to each other. At the top of these steps are six rectangular borders similar to the opening gate. These are currently shut and cannot be opened.
At the room’s center is a well. It is filled to the brim with clear water. Beyond that is a stone dais, ornate and crumbling. Steps lead to a center pedestal, but that pedestal is vacant.
This is the heart of the water shrine -- the resting place of the crystal. And yet, the crystal is missing.
As the party approaches, the well water lights with its own strange glow. Looking inside reveals not the user’s reflection, but a view of the same circular shrine as though from above. You see the well below you, the six staircases, and the dais. However, this mirrored dais holds a brightly shining crystal lit in pure and vibrant blue. Though you don’t see yourselves in this faux reflection, you do see three shadowed figures standing vigil at the crystal’s perimeter.
One is shapely and feminine with a strangely spiked head. One is heavy-set with what looks like horns protruding from both sides of her head. The last is an indistinct woman with long hair grown to her waist. Together, they form a barrier to the crystal in their mirror world.
The water isn’t wet to the touch. Your hand passes through, and though you can see the water ripple, you feel air below.
The stab wound looks straightforward enough. It’s a single blow, impaling the man through the gut with the point of a sword that went straight through him. The surrounding clothes are still damp with the blood that stews around him in a puddle. The once-handsome Jules de Lune is now a travesty -- his eyes vacant, his glasses astrew, his mouth slightly open with a kind of horrified expression. One side of his face is burnt beyond recognition. This side of his face is twisted. His eye is barely a squint. His lips have been torn away.
The burn extends down his neck to his collarbone and perhaps farther. The jacket covering it is unburnt.
To Emet’s eyes, the body is a host of unnatural aether. What might have once been human is overtaken by strange magic and life force that is no longer mundane. There is time magic here and something monstrous. It’s as though it doesn’t quite obey the same laws as the surrounding aether. On closer inspection, everyone here has been touched by a similar magic. Time. It has something to do with ageless time.
The butler looks slightly overwhelmed by the questioning. He can’t seem to think straight.
”Don’t touch…?” he repeats. ”Of course, but…” He bites his lip. ”Should he stay as he is, rot will set in before morning.”
A sad truth when no authorities can be called to remove it.
”The cellar is cold. There are many who love him. I couldn’t bear to him in that condition.”
More questions. More answers struggling to be strung together. ”I was never made privy to the full extent of his research,” Lambert says. ”I only know that it was of utmost importance to him, and that it was enough that someone might want it for themselves.”
He pauses, thinking. ”It had to do with the crystal,” he says. He gestures at Caius. ”The moon crystal has been in his family for centuries. It’s said to even predate the great crystals of Torensten, excavated from the Wanderwood some time ago. Its power runs deep in this place. You can feel it, can’t you?”
Perhaps you feel a shiver of power. Perhaps not. The glass surrounding the case has not been scattered inwards, but outwards. Caius’ boots crunch on the shards.
”In the last year or so, Lambert continues. ”He became fascinated by dimensional rifts and otherworldly power. That was why he took an interest in all of you. He wanted to know how you came to be and the extent of your power. He thought it might benefit everyone involved.”
Lambert’s eyes catch on the crystal. For a moment, he seems enraptured by it. ”The glass is broken,” he says. ”Did someone mean to steal it…?”
He’s hardly finished the thought before the conversation is interrupted by a thunderous bang that could have been a crack of thunder if not for the wooden sound of flying splinters. It comes from the rafters of the ballroom, out of sight but certainly not out of hearing. There are voices afterwards, echoing and indistinct.
Lambert straightens, tense and alert. ”What in the world?” His eyebrows furrow, a fire in them. ”I must go,” he says. ”If someone is wrecking our house…” With that he turns, and tries to leave.
The second story landing leads to several rooms -- the parlor, the bathroom, two hallways, and the guest quarters. Instead, the party decides to force open the only door that is locked. Doubtlessly there are secrets inside, and while there might be a key to find throughout the second story, it is far simpler for a knight and a mako-enfused Soldier to bypass the trouble. The doors might be heavy, but it’s only metal and wood.
At the combined force of a Soldier’s boot and a knight’s armored weight, it bursts open in a shower of debris and wood dust. Vossler’s shoulder feels half-deadened from the impact and he will sustain a deep bruise. Genesis may have fractured his foot. Still, the wager was made, and the way forward is clear.
Before them is the third floor of the ballroom. The balcony forms a circle around the room’s exterior with a railing separating the guests from the sheer three story drop below. All around, the high stained glass windows reach up towards the cavernous, domed ceiling. From here, you can see the mosaic which patterns it -- depicting a great dragon emerging from the heavens at the command of a black-robed wizard.
The balcony clearly once had a certain grandeur. Now it looks like the scene of a battlefield.
Blood smears the marble floors along the far side. The railing is smashed into splinters in several places, revealing the drop below. There are glass shards and loose tiles and puncture marks in the floor and walls. Below, you hear the faint, echoed voices of the party which remained in the ground floor ballroom -- Caius, Emma, Emet-Selch, and the butler.
Cissnei didn’t have long to question the butler before she was ushered out of the hall, however in that time, he didn’t ignore her. He looked distracted, still too distraught over the body to think quite clearly. ”His research?” he echoed. ”It was on…” he stopped, rearranging his thoughts. ”Dimensional rifts. Time. The work of old gods. That’s why he wanted to speak with all of you. He’s very interested in how you came to be.”
With an obvious air of pain, he gave permission to inspect the body -- though really, he thought that searching the mansion was of utmost importance. Though Cissnei didn’t have time to make a full inspection, Cissnei could make out a few details on sight. The stab wound was made by a sword -- not in a slashing motion, but a stabbing one. It appeared to have impaled him through the abdomen. His face was so badly burned that it distorted it down one side. Strangely, the burn seemed to extend down his neck below his suit jacket which is untouched.
The griffon statue looms over the hall, watching them with ruby eyes inset into the stone about twenty feet above them. Along the statue’s base, the dais is inset with its own decorations. To the right is a pentagonal plate inscribed with the image of a lion. In the center, another plate with a griffon. On the left, there is a pentagonal space with no metal plate. Each plate appears to be removable.
Adjacent Locations:
The Breakfast Room: Though not the grand dining room, the breakfast room is quite cozy and grand in its own right. Ten chairs encircle a long table -- not currently set for guests. Weak candlelight sets the room in shadow. Though there are no plates or silverware, bottles of wine are gathered at the center of the room next to an array of crystal glasses. One bottle is open.
The Waiting Room: This room is cold and lifeless with only a vase of flowers to decorate it. Three couches face each other awkwardly. The storm rages against the windows, rattling the glass and obscuring the view with fog. Two bookshelves line one wall. The far door leads to the cloak room. The strange meat smell continues down this way.
The party arranges itself, the boats glow with light, and you start forward into the unknown.
The lake parts for you in silent ripples as you sail over the water. The engine is silent. The crystal hums beneath your palm as you urge it onward. The rudder steers without resistance. The boat’s glow lights the space above and below as you journey into the darkness. For a time, the view gives you nothing to look at, and then you see it -- an underwater city.
You see twisted spires reaching towards the surface and domed buildings piled atop each other like stacks of coral. Worn stone links the sections in elevated paths. All around it is life. Kelp, jellyfish, and a school of glittering fishes pass below you. From the city’s center is a strange, ethereal tree that glows with a brilliant blue light. Its ghostly branches curl on themselves. The algae lining them says in a nonexistent current.
You sail above it all like a bird in flight, and as you pass over the tree, you hear a strange sound. An echoing sound. A song.
It’s in no language that you’ve ever known or could ever comprehend, and yet it seemed to reach towards you and embed itself into your heart. It’s sweet. Intoxicating. It muddies your mind and gives you a strange sense of longing and loss. You know what it is to lose a home -- a home like the city below. It calls to you.
’Won’t you stay? There is nothing behind you. Stay, stay, stay.’
The Qu’s attack lands, piercing the sahagin in rapid succession. It gives a terrible, strangled cry as it loses its balance, dropping in a crumpled heap onto the ground. The attack, however, is not particularly targeted. The needles scatter, tearing through the sails just as viciously as they tear through the monster. The upper half of the sail is shredded.
Licking the crystal results in no discernable change. It tastes like glass, stone, and something vaguely sweet.
With the combined efforts of Sabin and Caius, the last remnants of the sahagin are swiftly dealt with. However, the storm still rages as fiercely as ever. The heavy rain buffets the adventurers and crew, thunder roaring above as lightning claws across the sky. The howling wind strikes them as sharp as any tridents, and the deck tosses among the waves.
The crystal continues to glitter, inactive and waiting. The mages have all been turned into frogs. Without them, the storm can’t be calmed -- not unless it is activated by a mage of equal caliber that is.
The party doesn’t have long to consider their next course of action. Just long enough for a conversation, a few ideas, maybe some solution. Then the ship gives a terrible tremor. It’s enough to rock it first one way and then the other. A great shadow passes beneath the waves -- vast and black as night. Something is beneath you. Something mysterious, unknowable, and old as the seas themselves.
Something like a roar rumbles from below. It is alien, chilling, and loud enough that the wood creaks under your first. Just when it seems that the call might never end, something bursts around the ship. Several somethings. Tentacles, grasping and puckered and ready to sweep across the deck.
