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.
With the smell of blood still lingering in the air, you’ve been tasked with searching the manor for clues and suspects. ”He was a scholar,” the butler claims. ”He would want his death solved and his work found. I’m afraid it will be lost to the house forever.”
He doesn’t know anything about the whereabouts of his master’s research nor does he have any leads on the murder. Someone must have wanted it for themselves. Someone in the house. Perhaps one of you.
The manor could be dangerous, he warns. The killer is still on the loose, and two guests have already been spirited away. You must stay in groups for your own protection. If you’re to stray, well, who knows what might happen?
Keimusho, Genesis, Vossler, and Lycoris have been tasked with a thorough search of the second floor. The double staircases lead to a second story landing. The floors echo here, reaching up to a high ceiling lit by crystal chandeliers. From here, From here, there are several paths to explore: the bathroom, two hallways, the parlor, and another staircase up to the third story ballroom balcony.
This final staircase leads to a thin landing outside a set of heavy oaken doors supposedly leading into the ballroom balcony. The doors, however, are currently locked.
As the shock wears off, each of them notice something about themselves. Enma’s head is as muddled as Keimusho’s, but the spirit has a vague feeling that something terrible happened that has something to do with chaos and monsters. While the effect is subtle, Genesis’ rapier is scorched with ash. Blood stains one long edge of the sword though it blends well into the blade’s decorative red color. Vossler’s sword has a dried red tint from point to about halfway down the blade. The effect is hard to notice, however, as the blood has been dulled by rainwater. Lycoris' clothes are frayed with burnt edges. Her shoulder is sore.
With the smell of blood still lingering in the air, you’ve been tasked with searching the manor for clues and suspects. ”He was a scholar,” the butler claims. ”He would want his death solved and his work found. I’m afraid it will be lost to the house forever.”
He doesn’t know anything about the whereabouts of his master’s research nor does he have any leads on the murder. Someone must have wanted it for themselves. Someone in the house. Perhaps one of you.
The manor could be dangerous, he warns. The killer is still on the loose, and two guests have already been spirited away. You must stay in groups for your own protection. If you’re to stray, well, who knows what might happen?
Caius, Emma, and Emet-Selch are tasked with searching the ballroom for clues as to the recent events. The body of Jules de Lune is still untouched where it was found. A stab wound pierces his chest, leaking a puddle of still wet blood beneath him. One side of his face is burnt beyond recognition, trailing down his neck and under his suit. Nothing else can be ascertained without closer inspection.
The ballroom is a two-story marvel of high windows, marble floors, and a domed ceiling decorated with classical mosaic art. White pillars rise up to support the second story balcony which encircles the room’s outer ring. Set in the room’s center is a raised dais with a sparkling crystal hovering over its pedestal. While there was once glass protecting this crystal, it is now shattered on three sides.
The butler, Saal Lambert, hovers near the body, brow knit and muttering to himself. He appears to be deliberating what to do with the corpse and considers storing it in the wine cellar.
As the shock wears off, each of them notice something about themselves. The front of Caius’ shirt has been ripped. The flesh beneath is aggravated. Though he can’t tell any details of the damage without further inspection, it looks like a grievous wound that was healed quickly with curative magic. In a small pocket notebook, Emma finds a list of names in her own handwriting: ”Castillo: Handler, Giles: Muscle, Lambert: Head, Stein: ??” Emet-Selch has died within the last hour. His current body is slightly newer than his last.
With the smell of blood still lingering in the air, you’ve been tasked with searching the manor for clues and suspects. ”He was a scholar,” the butler claims. ”He would want his death solved and his work found. I’m afraid it will be lost to the house forever.”
He doesn’t know anything about the whereabouts of his master’s research nor does he have any leads on the murder. Someone must have wanted it for themselves. Someone in the house. Perhaps one of you.
The manor could be dangerous, he warns. The killer is still on the loose, and two guests have already been spirited away. You must stay in groups for your own protection. If you’re to stray, well, who knows what might happen?
Graha, Cissnei, and Gau are sent to the entrance hall. This grand room is a marvel of marble floors and ornate greco-roman statues. Four chandeliers hang from the ceiling, flickering with their dim and insubstantial light. The room’s centerpiece is a massive statue of a griffon set atop a great stone pedestal. It faces the heavy oaken doors leading to the lawn. They are currently locked.
As the shock wears off, each of them notice something about themselves. G’raha has used a not insignificant amount of magic in the last hour. His gloves are singed with heat. In her suit pocket, Cissnei finds a carefully folded note written in her own handwriting. It says, “Search Armor For Eagle Crest.” Gau finds something odd stuck in his teeth. Meat? But it doesn’t taste like anything he’s eaten before. He tracks the same smell through the manor, coming from the Eastern Wing past the waiting room.
With the smell of blood still lingering in the air, you’ve been tasked with searching the manor for clues and suspects. ”He was a scholar,” the butler claims. ”He would want his death solved and his work found. I’m afraid it will be lost to the house forever.”
He doesn’t know anything about the whereabouts of his master’s research nor does he have any leads on the murder. Someone must have wanted it for themselves. Someone in the house. Perhaps one of you.
The manor could be dangerous, he warns. The killer is still on the loose, and two guests have already been spirited away. You must stay in groups for your own protection. If you’re to stray, well, who knows what might happen?
Lumina, Vincent, Rufus, and Garnet are sent to the Parlor Room. The room is dark and lit only by the flickering shadows of a robust fireplace. Rain strikes the windows in an endless barrage. Every now and then, the grounds are lit by a strike of lightning that shakes the house in a deafening boom. Before you are three suede couches set into a semi-circle around the fireplace. To one side is a grand piano with the back raised and the keys exposed. Bookshelves line the walls along the opposing wall. All is quiet but for the storm and the low crackle of the fire.
As the shock wears off, each of them notice something about themselves. Lumina’s shoes are wet with some kind of thick, blue-green liquid. Glass dust shimmers on her skirt. Vincent’s cloak is uncomfortably damp. His golden shoes are tarnished with mud. Rufus’ shoulder aches with an emerging bruise. The back of his skull is sensitive to the touch and slightly sticky with blood. Was he knocked unconscious? Garnet feels that her magic has been drained. She either healed heavy wounds or summoned Ramuh recently.
Exit Aerith because...you know. Bartz is probably dying in the sea
Pray, Cleanse these waters and thy hearts
The weight of what happened sits heavy on the party (mostly), and there’s a distinct lack of presence that comes from the missing toad that had once been a boy. As the group enters the dark passage, it strikes one woman in particular -- the one who was arguably at fault for it all. Bartz fell out of Aerith’s pocket. She’d scooped him up and then dropped him into the ocean, maybe never to be seen again. As the darkened lake comes in view, she can’t shake that feeling of guilt.
This is wrong.
Aerith stops the party and explains that she has to go back. The water shrine is important -- the water crystal too -- but they’re the only ones that know that Bartz is in danger, and if she doesn’t go then who will? She promises to find him, and once she does, she’ll come back. So make sure to leave something for her, won't you?
With that, she’s gone. She heads up the darkened passage, back into the room with the waterfall, and up the endless spiral stairs. She calls down to the sailors, telling them to keep a lookout for a toad and then she climbs down herself. She spends a long time searching, even diving into the water and looking beneath the waves. She doesn’t find anything. Still, she searches, searches, searches for the life that slipped between her fingers.
She doesn’t return to the temple. How can she when that boy’s still in danger? She just has to trust the others to finish the job she’d started. And so the heroes are down to three.
Before the party enters the dark passage, you do a headcount. One, two, three, four. This seems puzzling for a moment before realization strikes. There were five of you to start with. Bartz, the loud and confused drifter, had been turned into a toad, thrust into Aerith’s pocket, and hasn’t been seen since.
As Aerith struggled up the ladder, she gave a sudden jerk. Gravity fell away for a moment, and then Bartz toppled out of her pocket into the sea.
He could give no cry of alarm. There was only a faint, echoing croak of terror as he fell ten, twenty, thirty feet into the crashing ocean waves below. The water strikes him like hard stone and then he was tossed about in the terrifying swell.
No one has noticed his fall. The ship looms above him, creaking and drifting and entirely oblivious to the desperate toad below. Though Bartz is regularly dunked underwater, he finds that holding his breath is no longer a problem in his amphibious form. His skin, however, feels dry and peeling. The salt is quickly getting to him, and he won’t last forever in the waves.
As he’s thrust under the waves, he sees an underwater cave. With no better options, he swims inside of it, through a short passage, and then resurfaces in a pocket of land and air. He finds himself in a small alcove of stone entirely hidden from the outside. It’s easy to breathe here and, strangely enough, to see. Something is giving off a strange green light, and then he sees the source.
Mermaids.
They lounge about on the rocks as though sunning themselves, their technicolor fins waving about lazily. They brush their hair and speak in strange languages amongst themselves. Attached to the walls are various charmed conch shells that give off that light. Some kind of magic, perhaps? They don’t notice the toad immediately, but as Bartz croaks instinctively, they look over.
”Oh,” the first one says. And then they’re cooing over him, pulling the toad into their arms and questioning how such a poor creature had been lost to the storm. The maids themselves had taken refuge here when the waters had grown too dangerous for them. Now they have a toad. A poor, lost toad that they fawn over like a puppy.
Bartz’ toad memory is fuzzy, but he remembers this strange event as though like a dream. When he awakens, he finds himself on a face-first in the sand of a beach on the Pale Coast. He’s groggy and wet and smells like seaweed. As he comes to, he realizes that the storm has ended. Was it a dream? Was it all a dream?
The only clue he has is a single conch shell beside him. When held to his ear, he can almost hear the sweet song of mermaids echoing from across the sea.
Water engulfs the crystal sphere, and the crystal responds to the pressure. It’s pressed inward, and with the sound of grinding stone, it stops -- inset into the wall. The crystal glints a bright blue, and there’s the distant sounds of rushing water. It streams down the wall channel like a waterfall, turning the water wheels as it goes and spraying the adventurers in a light mist that smells like rain.
The wheels grind and click and slowly turn. As the water flows down the ground channels, the rectangular shape in the door slowly shudders open. The water streams past it into a narrow hallway that is quickly shrouded in darkness.
There is time to collect yourselves. The water seems endless and is in no hurry. And then the time comes to continue.
There is a narrow path on either side of the channel -- dusty and overgrown with moss and ivy. As you follow the channel, you feel yourself descend. This ramp is made of old and weathered stone, softened by time. Every few feet or so, runic stones light one by one to reveal your path. There is only the smell of fresh water, the rush of river streams, and that ever present blue glow.
The path levels and you find yourself in a vast room that seems to expand upwards with no end. Along the bank are towering statues of warriors and kings. A weathered mosaic tells of a great sea serpent breaking through the waves at the call of a woman in white. Following the channel brings you to a lake of still water, hardly breaking as the channel meets it. This underground lake continues far past your field of vision into the inky darkness beyond.
Floating by the lake’s edge are several boats carved into the shapes of dolphins, fish, turtles, and gulls. They are not tied, but simply wait there expectantly. Another sphere protrudes from the front of the boat inset with the same spiral pattern and a crystal at its center. Fashioned to the back of the boat is a rudder. Each of these five boats appear to be meant for two passengers -- no more and no less. When three enter, there is a feeling of magic, and it begins to sink.
The air is charged with a sense of magic, of power, and of mystery. The runic sigils set the scene in an ethereal blue-green haze. Between the darkness and the silence, it feels almost as though you have entered another world -- a sacred world lost to time. And yet time has ravaged it all the same.
On further inspection, the crystal sphere in the wall is curved outwards. The edges around it are cracked into hairline grooves. It seems, perhaps, that there is space behind it that might allow it to be moved inwards. The crystal glints without light, dispassionate and waiting about seven feet above the ground.
The channel runs up one wall into darkness. Though the top is impossible to make out, you can see the shadows of flat panels running horizontally across the channel like miniature water wheels. They are unmoving -- the spokes burdened with cobwebs.
The channel leads to the opposite wall where more subtle lines frame a rectangle around it. This section, however, remains steadfast under pressure, and is too heavy to be pushed by human strength.
The sahagin were outmatched from the start. There was no way that they could have known that, of course, but as they were struck by blades and punches and ninja seals, it became quickly apparent that they had never stood a chance. A few take their final moments to jump, landing in the water like falling stones to take their chances with their fiendish master. More, however, merely die. This crew was not one to be trifled with, and they learn that truth in the end.
The threat is not over, however, as the ship gives a massive, creaking heave that nearly topples it sideways. A great crash of water comes down upon the deck like a tidal wave, smashing into the sailing crew and nearly drowning them where they stand. A muffled shout cries over the squalor, ”First Mate Biggs! Second Mate Wedge! Where’s the crystal? We won’t stand a chance if we don’t calm this storm!”
”Missing in action, sir! The crystal’s in position, but the mages we brought have vanished!”
Cursing. ”We need them! They’re the only ones with the power to use this damned thing!”
Out on the deck, roped in place, a massive crystal glows a dim blue-green. It sits abandoned exactly where the sailors had left it before they were replaced by frantically hopping frogs. The frog in Rem’s jacket croaks mournfully, longing to complete the duties so cruelly denied to him.
The light flickers. For a moment, the ship is cast in deep, inky darkness. A bolt of lightning shoots across the sky, illuminating the ship in harsh silhouettes, and then the magical flame at the top of the mast reignites. A sagahin is balanced at the top of the sail and spins its trident to plant it into the fiery charm for the final time.
Should this light be lost then the ship will be cursed to drift in darkness. Forever.
Quistis comes across what appears to be a simple cave -- at first glance, that is. It’s a small alcove about two thirds of the way up the rocky spire, and looking down, the height is dizzying. Waves crash into the cliffs in a deadly force even without the help of the storm. From here, you can see blue skies above the clouds, in your little circle of sanctuary that is.
The others find no issues as they climb the rope ladder. No external ones anyway. The ladder is slippery and damp, and it wiggles beneath your weight with an unstable thunk against the side.
What appears to be a simple cave is, in actuality, a passageway. The walls are engraved with strange, circular symbols. There is a hollow sphere in the middle as though something is missing. The back is darkened though on closer inspection, it leads far deeper than it lets on. A set of spiraling stairs descend into the utter pitch dark. You feel a strange mystical presence the closer you approach.
The stairs lead to a nearly five minute descent. All sound is muffled. A strange hush overtakes the space as though suffocated by the tension within. As you reach the bottom, the room opens, and you’re met with what could be graciously called an entrance hall.
You’re first struck by the hum of magic. It’s peaceful, quiet, eerie. It feels like something watching, waiting, and lost. It seems not to notice your presence, and yet you cannot escape its aura. It is in the very air, thick like summer dew. There is power here and something else idle in the dark.
Your feet click against uneven stone, and as you fully enter this place, the walls light with their subtle, blue-green glow. What were once great obelisks have now cracked and fallen. In their centers, runic writing lines the points of power within which emanate an unceasing light. Ivy and moss line the once sleek walls -- now worn with age. Carved down the center of the room are shallow channels that lead down one wall, to a central circle, and then in a straight line towards what appears to be a blank wall. Under closer inspection, purposeful cracks run up either side of it as though connected to the channel below.
Hidden by hanging ivy is a runic sphere with inscriptions forming a spiral towards the crystal at its center. It protrudes from the wall where it is embedded, glowing expectantly.
