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
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Pain filled his vision as dark magic radiated through his steel gauntlet. Overwhelming, as if he could collapse. He couldn't remember feeling something hit him hard enough to cause that, or if that was simply Odin's magic. But the only sign of it was the spasming of his hand. He wasn't sure how long until he'd be able to use it. It hadn't all been for nothing at least. The moment he even brushed against the man, knowledge flooded his mind. Techniques, stances, forms, strikes. Behaviors. He waited for a moment, his body tensed and ready to move, but it never came. No attack. Peculiar. Yet Alex took the chance to retreat all the same, seemingly ghosting away from the man, trailed by white wisps to gain some distance between the two. Healing magicks flowed from the ground and into his hand, and... nothing. Bother, he would need it to heal naturally, and it would take time for that.
Unfortunately, things were getting a bit out of hand.
He tried to clench his hand, trying to will it to work.
Again, nothing. His lips thinned, but he showed no further disappointment.
Nevertheless, he forged ahead. The profile, once loaded, allowed him to tend to the connection left upon him by the Elder Primal. Multiple clashes between the two as it reappeared throughout the Black Shroud, culminating in a battle at Urth's Fount. The man was connected to Odin, there was no doubt about it. It was only through this that what followed was even possible. He simply held out his left hand. Not his favorite, but Barnabas's profile more than equaled the field. It had first appeared in his hand as merely the grip. The blade itself appeared in a flash but a moment later, longer than Alexander was tall. The shape was different; rather than a mess of curves, one single one. But its dark blade was entirely unmistakable.
It was no mimicry of Barnabas's, what Alexander held was his world's Zantetsuken, imprinted on him through his own experience having wielding it. All mimicking Barnabas did was bridge the gap between him and Odin's Mark, and allow him to finally pull on that mark. The weapon felt weightless, daunting yet familiar, Alex could be seen admiring it, as if having reunited with someone he had not seen in years. Only twice before had he grasped it, yet both times were enough to leave a memorable impression. Both times, whatever stood before him simply fell away. Yet to call it a blade felt almost simplistic. It was more holding the physical manifestation of the concept of severing. To use it to sever a life like it was so infamously known for, was simply the bluntest, crudest manner, like taking a hammer to a spider.
Magicks, monsters, oaths, or organs. Zantetsuken could sever them all.
But, in all of that, he did finally speak, pointing an Abstraction Incarnate at Barnabas. "I never asked your name." A question driven by a small curiosity.
The spell failed. The sword appeared, slashing it away as the Warrior of Light stared stoically at the man in front of him as he analyzed the situation. His brain reeled through scenarios, conjuring solutions to situations yet unseen. There was no reaction to the blade his hand. Not even the flash of recognition. It was clear that Alex had been expecting the sword to appear. That was it. Without a doubt, that was Zantetsuken. This Barnabas was Odin's chosen, puppet, or host. It looked different, but either it was a different Zantetsuken, or it was simply shifting to match the whims of its current wielder. It didn't matter, he was left to consider his options in the brief moment before the next clash. He wouldn't bother with Silversnake. There was no weapon that could go directly against Zantetsuken, especially when in the hands of its proper owner. He felt the adrenaline begin to rush through his veins, surging his aether through his body, quietly casting Bristle.
It wouldn't give him the super strength of say, Sephiroth, but it would do.
With the failure of the first strike, the Warrior of Light had resigned himself to what would be a battle of attrition. The odds were in his favor, but it would likely get uglier before it was done. Calling on his magic, he had to get unorthodox about his methods, and so the earth swallowed him as he dove inside. A direct clash was futile, and even trying to simply dodge or move out of the way was too risky. Not even the incorporeality of Loom would grant him immunity from a blow from Zantetsuken. No, there was only one thing that he knew of that could stop Zantetsuken. He forced himself below, and pushed another spell away from him. Of course, the purpose of that was distraction. Seeing the rising mound trailing away from Barnabas, he had hoped that'd be enough to draw his eye.
Meanwhile he moved towards Barnabas, as silently as he could, at least until he was close to under him. He held his breath. Not that he could really breathe down here. He honestly had only a few moments. But then he moved up, and in one swift motion, he raised up out of the earth. He reached for Barnabas's ankle, his hand glowing. He only needed a light brush, nothing more, and then he would have what he needed to hopefully bring this to a swift end, and Odin's influence with it. The last thing this world needed was that Elder Primal running amok. Unfortunately, that light brush came with the feeling of a static shock combined with having ice water dumped on you. Meaning there was no way that Barnabas wouldn't notice the brush, assuming he didn't catch it t first anyway.
For better or worse. Yeah, he could see the worse, if he were being honest. And things became very awkward very quickly. He quickly realized that there hadn't been much of a plan in place. Maybe this was what Prompto as talking about. Dashing in before thinking. Always worked really well in a fight, but, now. Well. Alex didn't say anything at first. Rather, he looked at the pile on the floor. What was all that about? It looked like it'd been put together by some kind of... ferret like creature or something. Seriously, that just confused him, and it was only when Ignis finally spoke up that he finally snapped away from the odd pile. Right, the Ferret Pile could be dealt with later, this was more important.
Ignis asked for his name, and Alex pressed his fingers to his chest, giving a haughty snort. "Me? Well, I'm so glad you asked. I'm Caius Dragelion, Lord and Savior of this Star, and I..." He put on his best Caius impression. Unlike most of his impressions, the actual voice was spot on. Disturbingly so. However, his voiced trailed off and his shoulders slumped. It didn't matter. None of it did. "I really don't have the energy for this." He said in his own voice. "I'm just one of the ones that helped get you out of that nightmare." He let out an exhale as he leaned back. After everything, he really didn't have it in him to be his usual antagonistic self. At least not for the moment, give him time.
He looked over Ignis again, his lips thinning. "I'm really sorry." He began simply. There was no other way to put it. "We tried to get to you as quickly as we could. I just wish we'd gotten there before you went through..." He gestured vaguely. "All this." He looked away, staring at the Ferret Pile on the floor. "As it was I didn't have the heart to tell Noct and Prompto on the way out that you should have been long dead. And I'm sure everyone and their mother's already told you that it's a miracle you're even alive so I won't repeat that." He sighed. "Go on. I know the next question you're going to ask." He didn't. Probably. But he could make a guess, at least.
As he flew on by, Alex felt WILD and PURE and FOREVER FREE. Unfortunately, his generosity was not entirely reciprocated, even if the words were nice. Rather, he couldn't help but notice that the man disappeared in a manner relatively similar to Noctis. Maybe one of the Kingsglaive? Except it was red. To be fair, he wasn't entirely sure if people were allowed some design choices for that kind of thing. Or maybe it was just tuned to their aether? Considering Alex's tended to wax a sort of regal purple, that made sense to him. Alex slowed his pace as the sands continued to shift, and he spun around to face the man, continuing to move on a bit as he came to slow down, then pick up speed again as he began veering back towards the guy, circling around him once before coming to a stop.
Alex tilted his head. "Well yeah." He said, gesturing vaguely at the vagrant. "You're wearing all black in layers." He was out in the desert for something more like winter. "With the laughter, I thought you were going mad." Some water to cool him down. The sands beneath him shifted again, and he moved slightly to the left. "Honestly, do you need a ride or?" There would be brief bits of cool air coming from him here and there as it would become increasingly apparent that this dude was doubling as a godsdamned air conditioner in the desert.
He scratched his neck for a moment. Might as well address the elephant in the room. "Hey, you're Eosian, aren't you?" He questioned. "What in the world were you doing out here? Because now that I think about it, every single one of you I've met has worn all black. Why in the name of the Twelve are you out in a desert?" Noctis wore all black. Prompto wore all black. Iggy wore all black. Caius wore black and, well, mixed it with some blue, to be fair. If this man was indeed Eosian, then that meant that so far they were all running a perfect score. They really needed to mix up their colors. Even if his armor was black, his clothes were a variety of different colors.
It may not have been an important factor as to why his business was failing.
This gave him some manner of peace, in the moments between the screaming pain in his head, the flood of memories from a man long dead. In the waning days when things were still pleasant, he found himself in town, a bag of torn pieces of bread in his hand. He had sat himself down on a bench, throwing the scraps across the ground and watching as the birds flocked to his area. Birds of all colors and stripes appeared, as he would whistle birdsong after birdsong, sounds he'd grown up with in the land of Tural. Alex noticed a bird of prey circling overhead. It likely noticed the myriad avians below, and was likely looking for a meal. With absolutely no ceremony whatsoever, he manipulated some of his aether, pulling a large fish out of his mouth and tossing it in the air. The hawk took its opportunity, snatched it out of the air, and flew off to enjoy what was undoubtedly a well earned meal for such a graceful creature.
He noticed as a woman slowly sat herself down across the bench. Well good for her, nice to get some fresh air while one still could. He almost thought about motioning towards her, inviting her to take part in this. Taken in by the desire to actually be social, Alex raised up an arm, as if intending to wave her over here. And then the birds, as if taken by fear, immediately scattered to the winds. Alex scowled, his brows furrowing. He looked back over and saw the movement across the roof. What in Thal's Balls was a godsdamned Behemoth doing, jumping from rooftop to rooftop? A clothed Behemoth, acting like some nocturnal caped crusader? As it started in on the woman, Alex frowned and rolled his eyes, so much for a nice day, he figured, pulling out a kitchen knife that was in no way an ordinary kitchen knife.
And then the Behemoth shapeshifted into a guy.
You know what, sure. That was probably one of the least weird things Alex had dealt with in his life in the past few years.
His scowl deepened as the winds picked up, like the warning sign of a bad storm. The birds were definitely not coming back now. His disappointment was immeasurable, and his day was ruined. Alex growled as he rose to his feet, dismissing the knife, hand clenching and strangling the bag of bread crumbs. "Yo, jackass!" Alex snarled out towards the two, mostly targeting the man in red, whose cape had become a shield. Without really thinking, he hurled the bag of bread, its contents opening and spilling and sailing through the air towards him. "Some people are trying to feed the birds here!" He shouted, likely interrupting what was meant to be a cathartic, and dramatic conversaion. That was Alex for you, ruining everything wherever he appeared.
Alex's brows quirked at the mention of Valisthea. He actually knew that name. This man was from Clive's world? He wondered how Rosfield was doing. Maybe he'd show up here some time, they could catch up. Maybe actually bring the dog this time. Alex had only gotten to see a simulacrum of the canine forged from Clive's memories. He would've quite loved to meet the real Torgal. He stretched a little, rolling his shoulders. He had been about to explain what purple meant. A simple mix of red and blue, but this Barnabas seemed intent on talking with his funny accent. Alex could understand him easily enough. Two words though were what caught his attention, well and truly. Odin's Blessings. He stopped, and Alex blinked at Barnabas, the rest of the man's words slowly falling away, unacknowledged, if not outright unheard. His lips turned downward ever so slightly, the wheels slowly turning in his head. He was uncharacteristically quiet.
Odin, known in his world as the Dark Divinity. An Elder Primal that roamed the lands, possessing no small amount of dark power. Unique in that he didn't actively temper followers, but his wielder. What was truly strange was that Odin resided in the sword, forcing his consciousness upon whosoever grasped Zantetsuken. Alex had wielded it, ever so briefly, in ,moments of necessity, as he couldn't be tempered, but others had not been so lucky. How many times had he been forced to mercy kill those who came after, who felt the lure of Zantetsuken and thought themselves above its influence? He didn't know how long Barnabas had been waiting for an answer. He merely closed his eyes for just a moment. He inhaled through his nose, and exhaled past his lips. His eyes once again opened, dismissive boredom replaced with a blaze that promised death.
This Barnabas used Odin's same dark power. Counted himself as Odin's blessed. Tempered, Alex guessed. And he had not the means on him to reverse it. Nor would he risk it for one powered by the Dark Divinity. Odin stood on a level far beyond the likes of Ifrit, or Shiva, or Ramuh. Matched only by the likes of Bahamut or Alexander, to play with Odin was to court death. Never mind where Odin's power lay; Barnabas was by no means unarmed, Alex would stake his life on it.
It was the briefest movement of his arm. Aerora. As he used the wind to try and suddenly shove Barnabas away, before twisting it into a finer control. Cassandra could make bigger explosions than he could, but the tricks he could manage were things she could only dream of. The Aerora was only to create distance and set the stage, the true attack came when he simply clenched his fist, and that same Aerora rapidly contracted, coaescling into a vice grip in a quick attempt to crush the man's trachea and be done with it. It was best to kill him before he could have a chance to summon the blade.
Alex didn't like sand. It was coarse, and rough, and irritating, and it got everywhere. At least, that was how he felt about it growing up. Having long since learned the finer details of exceptional control, well, the whoops and hollers echoing throughout the dunes spoke for itself. Oh sure, Cassandra could make bigger explosions than he could, but the tricks he could manage were things she could only dream of. It'd been a while since he'd traveled like this. He'd come here into this general area looking for Ifrit. The whole thing with Shiva making him realize he didn't really know anything about this world's gods. Or much about this world in general. He figured he'd change that, do some soul searching, try and find a place in this world fitting for a destroyer. Ragnabawk refused to accompany him into this oven. Understandably so, given his black plumage, so that left alternate means of travel for him.
The sands shifted and sang beneath his feet, his own doing, as he used his aether to shift his patch forward at high speeds. Two waves crested in his wake. Using his aether to manipulate ahead, he was able to create waves for him to surf off of, get into the air, and catch himself in a patch and continue onward. He kept himself in a bubble of constantly circulating air, keeping him cooled. He was clearly having the time of his life, if his shouts were anything to go by. It was simple, it was fun, and it was something that helped him feel better. Richard and his bullshit wouldn't have him for the moment. He would have to wait. Nothing, nothing could stop the fun, not even the insane laughter he heard off in the distance. Though uh, that, that probably wasn't good. Especially if they were alone.
So he sand surfed in that direction, and came across what he presumed to be the source of that laughter. His brow furrowed. What kind of moron would cross the desert in heavy, jet black attire? He looked at himself briefly. Without proper air conditioning. That was important. He prepared a spell, one that would help. He kicked up his speed, racing towards the man. "Heads up! Alex shouted as the distance between the two rapidly closed. "I've got you!" It wouldn't hurt to take him to the nearest town or something. It'd be nothing on his aether reserves to do this with two people. Still, as Alex came closer, he opened his mouth, and vomited a wave of deep blue water towards the man of no consequence. Aqua Breath. A spell learned from Ultros. He had to tweak it slightly in this case, remove the poison, greatly reduce the force of the wave so as not to hurt the guy. All that. But heatstroke was obviously a problem, and this was a good way to alleviate that.
Of course, he likely hadn't noticed that he still had those waves of sand cresting behind him, of which the poor guy might also be caught in.
The man introduced himself; Barnabas Tharmr and Alex briefly combed through all his memories to see if there was anything that "... Who?" He asked simply. Yeah that name was bringing up nothing, so he obviously wasn't from his world. Or at the least wasn't from his time. God, the whole past lives thing made his world infinitely more complicated than it needed to be. Still, he'd work with it. Alex shook his head. Right, that was his bad, getting him all mixed up. "No, no. In my world, there are warriors and then there are Warriors. You see, warriors are warriors and Warriors are axe wielding barbarians." Obviously. Culture shock. "I'm a Purple Mage. I know magic and blade in equal accord." And everything else, but he didn't have the stones for all that. Literally. He left the rest of his Job Stones back home on Etheirys. So he was screwed there. Maybe his past lives could shore up some of that at least.
Still, none of them? Either he was lying or there were more B Rate Ascians. Neither of them were good. Or maybe he was one of them and he was hoping to get off on Alex being some unintentional hype man. Like hell, he wasn't playing into that. "Also, no. You are far better off not knowing about these people." Everyone was. Everyone would be far better off if the aforementioned would just go crawl into a hole and die, or at least never know the sight of sunlight ever again. Now that he thought about it. It was kind of offensive that Ragnabawk hadn't at least, you know, protested leaving his master to fight some dark teleporting dude all by himself.
At least his armor was neat. He'd give him that.
Alex gave a sigh. This guy was some weirdo of darkness, that much was clear. "Anyway, if you're new here." He cleared his throat, might as well get it out of the way, right? "Welcome to Zephon, where all your dreams come true, and hero and villain from across the cosmos do... something." He trailed off, clapping his hands together in a decidedly bored manner. The effects of glitter scattered all around him as the sound echoed out. He pulled his hands apart, a small rainbow forming between his palms as he gave Barnabas an unenthused stare. Cassandra had once told him that learning those party tricks was a total waste of time. Alex maintained that she had never known what it was like to throw glitter in someone's face before immediately following it up with a Firaga.
He looked around him. "You're in Kahiko Valley, which I'm pretty sure is home to some fallen civilization. If this is where you woke up, then I'm guessing your gods hate you. Or this place does." He'd gotten lucky. He'd woken up near Torensten, and was able to make his way there easily enough. Gotten a job mining, used some of those funds and well, things had progressed from there. And regressed. Thanks, blonde asshole. Alex figured he'd have done fine here, if he had to. But he'd have started off with a sour view of Zephon, rather than just, progressively sliding into that mindset over time.
As he continued to stare onward, it was only the sudden appearance of a very weird man that threw him off. Jumping at the event, he almost choked. What the fuck? Where did he come from? What was the meaning of this? Oh Gods, he was having flashbacks to Zenos all over again. He blinked, took a breath, and began to think for a moment. An Ascian? The magic was almost their calling card, and as it was, this man already looked like a buffer, bearded Hermes. No. He--Actually, hold on, something like this was completely in Fandaniel's wheel house. That in itself wasn't an issue. Fandaniel was only ever a problem because he had Zenos to go crying to if anything went wrong, and Alex had made it very clear that possessing some shattered god of eternal darkness wasn't going to be enough to even the field. Even if said shattered god was keeping the apocalypse at bay. Right, at least he hadn't known that part.
Still, a warrior? The first place that went for Alex was probably not what the man was assuming as Alex shook his head, getting bad vibes from the guy. "No, I'm a Purple M--Wait, no, you're meaning in general." It quickly occurred to him as he corrected himself. Red Mage, really. Or at least, that was the stone he had, even if he wasn't sure he needed it at this point. But, well, if he could use Red Magic and Blue Magic, then obviously, that made him a Purple Mage. Perfect logic. This, see, was a simple case of Alexander taking it literally. Did he have a Warrior job stone? Yes. Was it on him? No. Alas, this meant that as long as he was here, the ways of the Warrior were lost on him. Unless another one from his world showed up and he just, jacked their stone or something.
The answer was yes. Obviously. The Warrior of Light and Darkness and all that jazz. Still, he didn't feel like introducing himself as such. Sure, more people were finding out about that. But Alex was also slowly realizing that those same people probably didn't believe it either, and there was a part of him that was relieved. He patted Ragnabawk on the side, a quiet signal to send the bird away. As the chocobo huffed and took off in flight, Alex crossed his arms, turning to stare at something else. "I mean, I can defend myself. If that's what you're considering." He eyed the man warily. "So which one are you then? Fandaniel? Or maybe one of the others. Pashtarot? You definitely don't strike me as an Altima or Deudalaphon." Ascian, right? Or maybe... He squinted. "... Ardyn?" He didn't remember Noct telling him what the guy looked like, and Ardyn was just a Clown Shoes Ascian from what he'd heard.. And this guy just felt... off.
Alexander stared at the outside of the clinic, fully armed, fully armored, wondering if this was really a good idea. To go through with this would be tantamount to declaring war on the Dragonblades. But, that was irrelevant. Caius would make his move first, and he'd rather go on the offensive than the defensive. That was what Ethelbert would have done. It worked out until he died. Damn you, Elidibus. He took another step, brushing his fingers against the door, closing his eyes in solemn thought as he briefly wondered about turning back for a moment. "I've put this off long enough. I'll just deal with Dragelion later." He resolved. He took a deep breath. Inhale, exhale, and then with the squeal of a pig as he cast Bristle, he slammed his foot against the door. It gave. Right off the hinges. And the panic on the patients and staff inside was palpable as he stormed in, sword drawn and ready for battle.
His eyes blazed with fury. "I will see Shiva dealt with! One way or--" He stopped as he actually took a moment to scan his surroundings. He recognized no one here. He took a moment to ask about Yuna, and where she was. And that was how he learned this was not Yuna's clinic. And that he didn't actually know where it was. Fuck. He sheepishly apologized. Originally the guards were going to get involved, but one of the staff recognized him as "the poor homeless drunk" and well, it beat going to gaol, so he just kept his mouth shut. So he spent more time, after helping put the door back on that is and they'd agreed to let it slide once, and eventually he came to what he thought was Yuna's clinic. Really her clinic this time. He checked. Really made sure.
He placed his foot against the door, and realized he didn't want to potentially be wrong again, so he lowered it. Instead, he, surprisingly, and gingerly, opened the door quietly as he peeked his head in. "Yuna?" He said before he let himself in. Was she out? He slipped inside, closing the door behind him as he began to wander just a little. He was greeted at the desk, and overheard discussions about some poor man, blinded, in horrid shape, and suffering from night terrors. Alex stopped for a moment and wondered. It'd been some time, and, well, it'd make sense for Dragelion to send them all here... had Noctis, Prompto, and Ignis seriously been in Provo this entire time? The description fit. With how distressed the others had been that Ignis wasn't waking up, Alex had, for once, the empathy to realize that telling them it was an actual miracle Ignis wasn't dead in that state, was not a good idea.
His thoughts went back to that night, of the utter disaster it'd been, how he'd treated everyone, and it made him want to crawl into a hole. It also made him want to see Ignis. At least for some peace, to know some good came out of it. He approached the clerk. "Are... are they talking about Ignis?"
The clerk frowned. "I'm sorry, sir. But Provo's Health Insurance Portability--"
"I'm his husband." Alex cut them off and lied as easily as he breathed. Would this haunt him later? Probably. But things with this entire group was already in the shitter, what did it matter at this point? The sheer, brazen casualness and confidence of the statement had the clerk make an "o" expression, and whatever law they'd been talking about was promptly ignored as he got his confirmation and was ushered in after handing over his sword and giving his name--he gave Richard Ethelbert. It wasn't a lie. Past lives counted, right? It did not occur to Alex that there'd been about three felonies committed in only a couple minutes.
They were about to announce him, he shook his head, asked if there were any precautions, and quietly went inside when told no. He sat down and looked at Ignis. He looked awful. "Hey. You." He remarked awkwardly. "You're finally awake." He stated the obvious.
