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.
I TAKE NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR ANY ATROCITIES COMMITTED
Awaken, great fiend, from the cold and deep
The sahagin had no idea who they were dealing with.
While their ambush was successful, they didn’t hold the advantage for long. Sahagin were sturdy creatures -- well armored by their scales and the shells on their backs. Still, they hadn’t expected such elite warriors on the back of this doomed vessel. One by one they fell, and yet urged on by their fiendish master, more came still to replace them.
Keimusho’s attack sliced through the immediate target, and while the first strike wasn’t enough to disable him, the second certainly was. By the fifth, he’d been cut straight through, shell and all, and had been blasted back into the mast, nearly dismantled. The force of Keimusho’s power thrust back the other three sahagin who had attempted to surround him, stunning them. Still, this relief wouldn’t last long. From behind them, another of the turtle-shelled guardians launched itself into a high jump, angled its trident down, and thrust itself back towards the deck, hoping to skewer the ninja from above.
The sahagin showed no favor between sailor or warrior. The volley that had preceded their assault had skewered several of the deckhands, pinning them to the wood, helpless. Caius cracks his blade through the skull of one, dodging another strike as the sahagin try to surround him. Four of them keep at a middle-distance, trying to stay out of distance of his sword blows with their much longer tridents that they stab forward like pitchforks. Above, there’s a startled cry. Three sahagin have jumped to the top of the mast, ripping the sails as they go. One lands at the top, cornering the keeper of the magic flame. Without it, the warriors will be fighting blind.
The ship is rocked violently by the storm. The deck tilts, causing several sailors to lose their balance as they go skittering on streams of slippery rainwater. The railing at the deck’s edge barely catch them as they scramble to regain their grip, eyes widening in horror at the sahagin already vaulting over the side to meet them. Sabin’s chi lights their eyes in a harsh contrast of yellow on green. His foes are thrust off the edge back into the water’s below, but those still hanging off the side need only a moment to take their places. One grabs a sailor and yanks him over with him. The screams are drowned by a boom of thunder.
Three sahagin creep towards Rem carefully, their beady reptilian eyes unknowable and alien. Maybe they’ve recognized the support she’s given her allies in defense. Maybe they simply think her weaker than the others, but there is a certain aggression to their approach, unhindered by caution. Her magic catches them by surprise, and as her strike lands on the first, the other two falter, startled though they quickly recover. One spins his trident around and launches into a high jump. The other rushes her from the ground level.
The first sahagin struck by Quina’s Aqua Breath is sent flying, its shell crushed as its ribs crack and it lets out one final gasp of air before landing in a heap on the deck. This doesn’t faze the others, however, who are used to the water and resistant to it. The first was caught unaware, but they will not be. They raise their tridents defensively as they approach, ready to thrust off the familiar element.
What does faze them, however, is Quina’s bellowing cry. The sahagin struggles in their grasp, screeching in a kind of primal fear. And it’s right to worry. As the forks and spoons increase their spinning and the qu thrusts the sahagin towards their mouth, it can only scream. Just scream before it’s done in a horrible crunch of bone, shell, and blood. The qu feels a familiar power rush through them. A new skill.
Shell Defense. When used, there is a very slight chance that a newly formed shell will negate all damage for one attack.
The scene is chaos. Between the raging storm, the battles, and the horrifying cuisine, it’s impossible to keep track of the situation in its entirety. As the assault carries on, a team of five sailors burst from the cabins carrying a large green crystal. It glows in the storm, its power dormant as it waits to counteract the raging seas and give them a momentary peace. The sailors set about their work when they too are confronted by a trio of sahagin. These monsters, however, do not strike them with their tridents. They raise their scaled hands and wide puffs of smoke erupt around the sailors. The men are obscured by a green, gray, blue miasma as they cry out in alarm -- a cry which is slowly turned to deep and torturous croaking.
Ribbit. Ribbit.
The smoke clears revealing a gathering of five large frogs as they squelch to the ship’s deck. The ribbiting grows panicked as they hop around, alarmed and confused. Miniature sailor hats have adhered themselves to their heads, and they scatter, each fleeing to a different warrior.
One scrambles for Keimusho and his kodachi blade. Another darts between the sahagins’ legs, making a dash for Caius. One hops on Sabin’s shoulder, croaking loudly in his ear. Another pauses in a moment of sudden clarity before making a wild break for Rem.
The last flees towards Quina -- the great and powerful monster who had so easily downed the sahagin already. Unknowing of its fate.
As the sea stills, it’s as though a dome of magic surrounds you. Above, you see cloudy skies. The waves crash into the vague green shimmer that encircles the ship in a perfect sphere. While the wind rages on, you can’t hear more than the soft whistle of the wind through the creaking sails. For now, you have a moment of peace. Now to think.
The sailors take the chance to repair the sails and tighten the knots fastening it. Only a few stop and listen to your conversation, frowning and curious. They don’t understand any talk of crystals and magic and shrines, but they’re willing to help. Anything to save their home, families, and livelihoods.
As Bartz shouts into the amulet, it does nothing but glitter back. This is a crystal that’s been processed by complicated magic in the University of the Magi, and it is no longer capable of speech -- if it ever was to begin with. It glows its amber glow without interruption.
The rigging is soaked through, but easy enough to climb and the sailors shuffle out of Aerith’s way so that she can reach the top. Though the sun’s entirely blocked by the clouds, the ship’s unquenchable flame casts the rocky spire in a kind of flickering orange shadow. The rocks don’t give much at first. There’s seagulls covering within a shallow cove. There’s vines hanging from points where the rock gives way to softened earth. Then, at a point about two thirds of the way up, you see a flat landing. There’s a cave here. A man-made one, actually, with straight-lined walls carved beside what might be symbols and might be merely cracks in the stone.
With no obvious paths up the stone, the only visible way forward is some seventy feet over the waves.
The mantra works! Sort of. Quina feels a strange power grow inside him, something that almost makes the nausea worse. It only lasts a moment however before it feels like something that's been misaligned pops back into place. It didn't help the Qu's stomach, exactly, but it certainly cleared their head. Which means the vomiting ends! For now.
Above you, the eternal flame flickers in the half light. Your pendant glows a deeper amber. After what could have been hours or maybe days, you're close. A sailor has climbed the mast to tend to the spotlight -- your only solace in the dark and rain. ”Are you still on course?” he calls down. His words are almost stolen by the wind.
”Aye!” the captain answers. ”It should be any time now!”
It is then that spears erupt from the stormy sea.
The volley assaults the ship from all sides, raining down like arrows. The sailor on the mast cries out, barely dodging. As he falls, his ankle twists within the mask, and he’s left hanging upside down, crying for help over the drowning gale. One by one, the spears land, piercing through the deck in great wooden splinters. One sailor is gutted straight through the chest and then pinned, gargling his last breaths.
The storm masks the sound of cracking wood as a dozen shadowed figures climb up the side of the ship, using their tridents as a kind of pick-axe to steady themselves. As they rise over the deck’s edge, you see reptilian faces, long necks, sweeping tails, and impenetrable shells mounted on scaled backs.
”Sahagin!” The captain cries his warning to all who can hear him. ”The guardians of the fiend! We’ve been boarded!”
The ship rocks dangerously in the raging waters. The wind strikes you with renewed strength. The bellowing roar of thunder nearly drowns the conversation -- not that there's much time for one. There's time for introductions and a little chatter before you hear a sailor shouting from where he’s manning the fire at the ship’s mast. ”Ahead! There’s land ahead!”
The shards glow brighter as the ship steers towards a dark shadow, looming closer. On the horizon, you see a dark shadow looming closer. The water grows rougher as the amulet leads you towards coastal water, and the sailors direct the spotlight towards your destination. There it stands, a great mound of jagged rocks jutting out from the sea. You approach carefully. One wrong move, and your ship will crash against it, splintering and joining the wrecks lost to the ocean floor.
Your ship circles it carefully, but finds no entrances or ports of entry. Instead, it is an impenetrable fortress of stone and cliff. The amulet leads you to one side and then blares its alarm, lighting the deck in an amber light. ’This is where you will find what you seek,’ it seems to say. Here, in this exact spot.
And yet you see nothing ahead, beside, or behind. There are barely footholds in the stone -- some nested by seabirds and all too slippery to climb. The storm rages, making the water treacherous and your vision impossible. Yet still the amulet glows. ’It’s here. It’s here. It’s here.’
The storm has raged for fifteen days and fifteen nights with no end in sight. The docks are swept by the crashing waves, and you have to grab the creaking wooden posts to withstand them. You are soaked through to your bones, shivering, breathless. The rain assaults your eyes, leaving only blurry shapes through the gale.
At the end of the dock, a ship rides the coastal waves. The sailors scramble to prepare it for the harrowing task ahead. The wood creaks. The ropes thrash in the wind. After some time, the boarding ramp is lowered, and they usher you on board.
Many have been lost to these waters and the fiends that lurk within. As the ship makes its unsteady way out of the darkened harbor, it feels almost certain that you will be the next to join them.
Torensten is in a state of emergency, and for your own reasons, you’ve heeded the call. King Hremit has worked tirelessly with the sages at the University of the Magi to supply you with aid. Firstly, they’ve cast protective charms on the ship, hoping that when activated, they will counteract the corruption and still the surrounding seas for exactly an hour. Secondly, they’ve fashioned a spotlight made of unquenchable fire and attached it to the mast so that you can see through the blackened night. Finally, pendants were crafted using shards excavated from the Metaia Temple’s Earth Crystal. These should guide you to the Kraken and the Water Shrine respectively.
All of these feel like nothing but worthless trinkets as the coast disappears from sight and there is nothing but rolling waves and the deep bellow of thunder. You lost your sister ships some time ago, and you can only hope that they too will find their destination safely.
Until then, there are only your fellow adventurers and the sailors rushing about in a constant state of urgency. Though the pendant guides you, there is no end in sight.
The storm has raged for fifteen days and fifteen nights with no end in sight. The docks are swept by the crashing waves, and you have to grab the creaking wooden posts to withstand them. You are soaked through to your bones, shivering, breathless. The rain assaults your eyes, leaving only blurry shapes through the gale.
At the end of the dock, a ship rides the coastal waves. The sailors scramble to prepare it for the harrowing task ahead. The wood creaks. The ropes thrash in the wind. After some time, the boarding ramp is lowered, and they usher you on board.
Many have been lost to these waters and the fiends that lurk within. As the ship makes its unsteady way out of the darkened harbor, it feels almost certain that you will be the next to join them.
Torensten is in a state of emergency, and for your own reasons, you’ve heeded the call. King Hremit has worked tirelessly with the sages at the University of the Magi to supply you with aid. Firstly, they’ve cast protective charms on the ship, hoping that when activated, they will counteract the corruption and still the surrounding seas for exactly an hour. Secondly, they’ve fashioned a spotlight made of unquenchable fire and attached it to the mast so that you can see through the blackened night. Finally, pendants were crafted using shards excavated from the Metaia Temple’s Earth Crystal. These should guide you to the Kraken and the Water Shrine respectively.
All of these feel like nothing but worthless trinkets as the coast disappears from sight and there is nothing but rolling waves and the deep bellow of thunder. You lost your sister ships some time ago, and you can only hope that they too will find their destination safely.
Until then, there are only your fellow adventurers and the sailors rushing about in a constant state of urgency. Though the pendant guides you, there is no end in sight.
The wind whistles through the distant windows. Light filters through stained glass, motes of dust illuminated in careless spirals. The eyes of the gods watch from their stone effigies, cold and disinterested. And then, a whisper and a warmth.
It’s impossible to parse that whisper. There are no words -- or at least none of any common tongue. Instead, they are merely a feeling. A welcome. A warning.
’You’ve come,’ they seem to say. ’My distant heroes.’
With that, a series of flashes as though on a film reel. Streaks of missiles burning the sky. Balamb Garden taking flight. The Sorceress Edea in battle, and then collapsing. Rinoa in strange, unnatural after images, and then a castle lost at the edge of time. These memories fly past in vivid succession only to stop at their point of arrival.
Their story ends here. The trials of Zephon are not part of their story, and yet, they have become part of it. A warm light touches at the gods’ stone carvings. The eyes of the great dragon light in a violet-black.
’Fight as you are destined,’ it says. ’Fight back the evil of this world, and then I may guide you home.’
Just as suddenly as it began, it ends. The light fades. The warmth fades. The whispers die away. They are left in only an empty room of dust and gods lost to time.
"Excellent!" Lucas sat forward, thoroughly pleased. How long had it been since the youth had shown an interest in the old ways and the legends of those who had come before? These strange visitors certainly had challenged his perceptions, he had to admit. "I'll give you the tour."
With that, he stood, waiting for them patiently at the door before leading them on. For as much traffic as the Crystallus Divider saw through pilgrimage, the temple itself was rather small -- relatively speaking that was. With no safe trade routes between the remote ruins and the main cities on the western basin, supplies were scarce and building resources even scarcer. Still, Lucas was proud of his little haven of culture carved out of the grassy plateau. His pride wasn't entirely unwarranted.
The Crystallus Divider was first and foremost a place of history. It was a shrine long forgotten to time, carried on only by legend to which one could dedicate himself without ever truly understanding. Whatever wisdom had once been gathered in its halls were long since faded, kept only in appearance by its scholarly caretakers. Still, there was a pervasive sense of importance to the place accented by its high ceilings and carved trellises. It was a place of beauty if nothing else. Forgotten faces watched the strangers through the fragmented lenses of mosaic murals.
"The Crystallus Divider is thought to date back centuries -- perhaps even a millennia!" Father Lucas smiled smugly, swelling with his own self-importance. "Back to a time of magic and gods. We can only speculate what life must have been like then, but it's fair to say that the world looked much different. We think it carried a kind of spiritual power that has been long lost. At least, that's what our records indicate."
He brought them before a set of heavy double doors, pausing for dramatic effect. "And here we are," he said, relishing every moment before finally pushing them open.
The scene was breathtaking.
An open, three-story ceiling. Open archways lacing meticulously carved marble. The floors were a patchwork of colorful stone, expanding out in Byzantine patterns. The air itself was thick with a kind of sacred hush. Their footsteps clicked across the lacquered floor, echoing in the eaves.
"Do you feel their power?" Lucas gestured towards the statues set into the opposite wall. They seemed to loom over the room with an imposing force, white and immaculate. "The gods linger here."
And so it seemed. Seven figures stood before them, topping a dais framed in smoldering incense. To the left was a fearsome woman clad in armor so that only her blazing eyes were visible through her ornate helm. Beside her was a barbarian of a man, hulking and beastly. Then came a mounted knight, an elder mage, a woman dressed in sleeveless silks, and a great sea serpent entwined within the stone. Above it all was a great dragon, its wings spanning the others in a terrible shadow. Its maw was open as though ready to engulf its worshipers in flame.
Lucas smiled knowingly. "I'll leave you to your thoughts," he said before he left, the doors shuddering closed behind him. Their echo resounded through every eave before the room faded once again to reverent silence.
"And these crystals are in these ancient ruins?” The girl had insight, he'd give her that. In fact, his heart swelled with her interest. It was rare to find youth these days so dedicated to learning the old ways. 'Perhaps this one was different,' he thought. 'She doesn't seem like a brute at all.'
Another, deeper voice echoed a sinister warning. 'A trick! Keep on your guard. You never know with their kind.'
"And what are agents of chaos?"
"Ah, now isn't that the question!" Father Lucas settled back, looking up in contemplation. "Legends speak of this chaos set loose once again. I had thought it must mean you wanderers, traveling around with your swords and superpowers." He chuckled to himself. "You've certainly left an impression."
He couldn't help it. He felt his mood shift for the better. Such an inquisitive young mind!
"It is theorized -- only theorized, mind -- that they're the emissaries of a dark god. Sent from beyond the veil, as it were. The opposite of the ancient Warriors in concept. They know only chaos and will bring the world to ruin." He shook his head. "The translations vary, but some theorize them the harbingers of apocalypse! You must understand why your people have me worried!"
There. An apology would make it right. Perhaps they had started on the wrong foot, but certainly they could move forward from here.
"Perhaps you could fight them off." He nodded towards the boy. "I'd never considered that interpretation. The texts say that the Warriors would rise again when their need is most dire. A terrible clash between darkness and light! It has generally been accepted that this means that the power of the crystals -- and the Warriors that guard them -- will be freed at the end of this age. I highly doubt that you are the Warriors of legend, but it is an interesting theory..."
He was being polite of course. These ruffians the Warriors of Light? Preposterous.
"The gods will return at the dusk of our age -- perhaps to end it and begin the cycle of life anew? We have only begun to understand the old texts, you see, so the translations are contentious and the sources often contradictory. Another reason I've avoided discussion with the more...unstable of seekers." He sighed. "But you seem a fellow scholar yourself. Surely you will understand the true complexities of our legends."
And she had the dedication for meditation and prayer! Ah, but perhaps he'd been wrong in his assumptions! It seemed that she and her companion were two of the good ones.
"Of course! Our priests have made it their life's work to connect with the gods and the spirits of the Warriors! We've made great strides though of course they have never spoken to us. On hallowed ground, however, we can feel their presence. It is a great honor." He made a reverent gesture and lowered his head. "The scholars at the Metaia temple worked upon the most sacred lands of all. It is a great loss, yes a great loss, with what became of them. Perhaps the forces of chaos sought to tear it from our grasp? If anywhere was to start a communication with the gods, it would have been at its altars."
He felt his heart somber. A tragedy indeed. All of that lost knowledge!
"Well, there is nothing to be done for it." He gestured to them. "If you would like to see our shrines, I could certainly lead you to them. I am always happy to help a fellow devotee."
The girl’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. A sharp intellect. Maybe there was hope for her after all. The boy was a more excitable type. He saw how his eyes darted, how he stood straight with an eagerness that nearly hummed. Father Lucas gave a hum of his own though even he couldn’t tell whether it meant well or ill.
Would he respect these two strange outlanders? Maybe. Begrudglingly.
Lucas considered their questions. The Crystalus Divider. The gods. Yes, he knew all about them. As for his theories…
”I told you, I don’t know anything about that.” His voice was sharp, and his eyes were sharper. ”It’s all an anomaly! Though if I had to guess…” He trailed off thoughtfully. In truth, he had considered it. Several times, in fact, during the dark hours of the morning. But it was nothing substantiated and certainly nothing to lose one’s head over.
And yet…
”The Divider is a pathway for the gods,” he said. ”Once they were plentiful in this world, shaping it to their will. Shiva, the lady of ice. Ifrit, the lord of fire. And of course, the great dragon.” He made a reverent motion with his hands, bowing his head. ”But that was in the time of heroes. Back then, gods and great fiends roamed the world with careless abandon. It’s said that four great heroes rose with the light of the gods, sealing chaos within the elements themselves. On that day, the gods saw their work done, and they left the world until there should be need to call upon them again.”
He looked to the window. Outside, ancient ruins stood resolutely against the ravages of time. Were these temples once used by the heroes themselves? It was impossible to say.
”The crystals will hold chaos at bay,” he said. ”But should their power wane, it is said that the gods will return through that gate.” He gestured in the game direction of the front. ”Thus, the Crystalus Divider. A gate between the mortal world and the realm of gods.”
”Is it fair to theorize that it might in some way be responsible for these anomalies? I wouldn’t say it’s unfair. It could be the will of the gods to call forth agents of chaos from worlds beyond. Or perhaps some greater anomaly has crossed between veils and pierced it where it is thinnest.” He paused. ”But those are only theories, mind.”
