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.
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year 5, quarter 3
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Post by Laurelin Hawthorne on Jul 4, 2024 20:43:51 GMT -6
“Distracted, are we?” The bookkeeper's voice cut through her thoughts as sunlight through mist.
Laurelin startled, hand dropping from her face, gaze falling on the older man. The smile on his lips matched the twinkle in his eyes. While he’d never admit it outloud, he obviously found catching her off guard entertaining. A feat near impossible to do. “Ah,” she replied. “I suppose I am.”
As of late, she spent her time nestled between the tomes, revisiting a sore topic. If she were to be a hero once more she would need healing. From the scrolls she dug up from the labyrinth depths of the sunken Metaia Shrine,* there seemed to be a Tree of Life, furthered backed by her reading done in this shop. Curiosity wormed its way in, gnawing and feasting away until it had brought her to her current dilemma.
She would need to prepwork. Supplies for replenishment and restoration needed to be gathered all while procuring the swiftest route from a (hopefully) reliable guide. Yet her body still protested from its most recent endeavor, a deep ache that brought no ease to the elf. How had she pushed herself only to be cowed after one adventure? Had she really let herself fall so far?
There was always that Dragonblade, she mused. Save for one did not stop by and ask for dragon rides. Even so, the thought of a swift, easy flight and shorter walking distance took the sting from her weary legs. It pained to think this time around she could not vault from Vordun with ease befitting her race.
A thin finger tapping against the table drew Laurelin’s attention once more to the bookkeeper. A gentle smile graced his face again. “Maybe,” he began, “a walk is in order?”
No doubt he wished to lock up in order to browse the local flower shop himself (given the fact he was sweet on the elderly florist who ran it, a likely presumption). She dipped her head to hide her knowing smile, swallowing back her previously depressing thoughts. “Sage advice.” With a flick of her wrist the medicinal book closed with a faint thump and returned to its rightful place upon the shelf.
Slipping from the bookshop with one last wave to the elder, Laurelin found herself in a back alley of Torensten. Rolling her shoulders, she winced at the popping sound of her left followed by a tingling sensation. That was certainly new.
Favoring her left, Laurelin scanned her surroundings. With ease she let the pace of the crowd, ever flowing like a river, lead her until the road yawned into the town square. From there she began her first task: wares comparison. Vendors of all shapes and sizes flocked to town to set up shops in the many buildings, albeit she had heard rumors Provo outmatched Torensten regarding merchants. One day she vowed to see that with her own eyes.
Like a moth she fluttered to each shop window, peering through the glass, gathering her own intel. Perhaps a larger satchel was required, should she brave the woodlands. Her current hardly fit the scrolls and trinkets that had caught her eye at the Shrine. What if this spring was nothing more than a farce and the only cure was in a remedy? Would she not need certain herbs?
Rounding a corner, Laurelin froze as if dropped into a frigid pond. There, amongst the crowd, conversing with an older man, stood a knight. Heart rabbit-quick, she forced herself to breathe, to get ahold of herself. He remained solid. Real. So unlike her other memories when they surfaced, only to dash her hopes in a blink of an eye.
“I searched for so long,” she whispered. She drifted closer and each step her Crystal felt lighter (surely a trick of the mind). “I thought you were all dead.”
Laurelin flinched at her own confession. So much for her tact.
* Referencing a thread in the works that hasn't happened been posted yet (but opener has been started).
Post by Laurelin Hawthorne on Nov 18, 2023 11:46:12 GMT -6
"Yes, I do mean Princess Sarah of Cornelia. The one who lives and volunteers here."
It took all of her will to not whirl around at those words; she refused to reveal the shock, awe, and relief that warred within. “I see,” Laurelin said instead, eyes still fixated on the painting. It was a scenic piece. Some forest. “She’s here.” The elf sighed. Her shoulders dipped. “Truly.”
The crowned princess had survived what became of their world. Judging by the tone of Caius, she was doing well enough. Laurelin almost scoffed at herself. Here she was, sniveling like a child when the woman she had aided thrived. Adapted to survive and was making a name for herself. A sliver of hope wormed itself into her heart.
Perhaps she hadn’t failed, then. She hadn’t led her friends to death’s door. Subconsciously, Laurelin slid in a nearby chair. “There is a chance,” she murmured to herself. “The others are alive.”
She could not face the princess just yet. Whatever glory remained was all of theirs to carry. She would not claim it as her own. As much as she ached to see a familiar face, Laurelin could not be the only one. The Prophecy had read as such. It was all or none. Mind awhirl, Laurelin began calculating her next steps. First, however, Caius deserved some compensation for his information. Honesty would have to do.
“Look for a woman named Seraphine,” she said, addressing the Dragonblade leader. “At the Hero’s Tavern. She is who sent me.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the coastline as if words had escaped her. “Should you need members, I am sure she will be a welcomed presence.” A light laugh bubbled past her lips. “Get her a teacher, too. Her gift of foresight is far too valuable to let it rust.”
Rising, Laurelin leveled her gaze with Caius. “Just do not lead her, nor Aiden, to harm.” She paused, thought, and added: "Please send my regards to Her Highness. For I plan to seek the other Chosen."
A rogue smile warmed her features as squeezed herself past Caius. “I’m ninety, by the way.” She had seen the look. Guessed at his internal monologue. He was not the first nor last human that would question her years.
Slipping past the ajar door, she walked out onto the street with renewed purpose.
Post by Laurelin Hawthorne on Feb 21, 2023 12:18:06 GMT -6
She had anticipated the two would carry onward without her. What she had not foresaw was a calloused, open palm before her. Laurelin found herself taken aback as one stricken. He had extended his hand. To her. Unbidden, a flush crept to her cheeks. Her life had become a warrior, a traveler, and an ally. Nothing more; nothing less. She had grown accustomed to being seen as a chosen, untouchable beacon of light, and not as a maiden.
It was…awkward, to say the least, and would take time to adjust to. Still she accepted his hand graciously. Once settled with Aiden secured, she gave a nod.
With a command, they took to the sky. Being young and strong, Vordun was adept at handling the gales with ease. Something fluttered in her chest, stirring a long repressed hunger. Bold as brass, she let go, outstretched her arms to either side, with a laugh clear as bells.
Strawberry-blond hair wiped about his face, as he glanced back at her, doe-eyed while clinging to Caius for dear life. His countenance only fueled her appetite as memories of her companions’ first flight reactions surfaced. At least one of them had a similar look. Meanwhile, she had embraced the sense of freedom with open arms.
She reached forward, securing the teen once again with one arm, providing the comfort of security he sought.
“—would have loved this,” she mused aloud, voice pitched in unrestrained glee. Somehow, somewhere, in the deepest part of her soul, a companion of hers wielding the Wind Crystal was hale. Her blood sang, wishing it true of each friend.
Once aground, she practically vaulted from the dragon, pivoting on her toes to face Caius and Aiden, cloak snapping about her legs. A grin, genuine and elfin, crinkled the corners of her eyes. “It has been ages since I last felt young.”Alive, even. The broached crystal shimmered like spring aspen leaves in the sunspray, drawing from its bearer’s inner light while mirroring her emotional state.
For a moment she was every bit the elf her friends would remember, before the Lich, before their journey became perilous. Before Zephon, when her crystal lost its radiance.
As if remembering her task, she sobered quickly, once again slipping into an old role. Though, this time, the crystal kept its faint glow. “Right, come along now.” Reaching up, she offered to steady Aiden, helping Caius in guiding the teen down. Once steady on his feet, Laurelin hummed, gave some ground, and made no comments about his limbs quaking like leaves in a windstorm.
The rest was a blur. They had ushered the boy in and he was being seen by a professional, leaving the two alone. Laurelin drifted around the area, taking idle interest in the room. She had little need to use such facilities but, nonetheless, it came as no harm to learn the layout should the need arise. Images hung on the walls, featuring mountains to cats that she surmised belonged within this world. It was not this world she wanted to focus on.
“Her Highness,” she broached. Shaking her head, Laurelin fell quiet again, fingers fiddling with the dagger hilt she carried. Apprehension did not become her. She, the one who passed Death’s gates only to turn back and seize Life by Its collar. She, the one who did not balk, no matter the odds, who aided the knight in their travels.
Yet here she stood, as if she were knee-high to a grasshopper again, alone with only ghosts and memories as her companions. Seraphine had dreamt but often her predictions lead to misplaced hope or strangers. Nick, the young mage in training, was one such stranger. “Perchance—” she gave Caius a tentative look before finding a particular artwork fascinating “—would this woman be Princess Sarah of Cornelia?”
Post by Laurelin Hawthorne on Jan 23, 2023 12:35:20 GMT -6
Two spells. Laurelin kept an air of neutrality. Two spells. It was a humble start, she could not deny, but she had anticipated more. With grace befitting a cat, she leaned forward, planting a splayed hand upon the dark wood, leveling her gaze with his. It was said mages could sense one another, robes be damned, by the magic which swam in their veins and she believed the old wives tales. Steam wafted from her tea, temporarily forgotten as she drove home a point.
“You have potential,” she said, voice low. “It is best to nurture it lest it go to waste.” Waste and magic should never go hand-in-hand. She’d smite Chaos again to make sure no mage went untrained. “Torensten is a mage’s dream. A metropolis, brimming with magic. From earth to sky, to the tallest of towers, it overflows like a chalice. Therein lies a school. Within those halls lies your objective.”
Only time would tell whether or not he could be a master Red Mage.
She took a sip of her chilled tea before snatching a honeyed roll, drawing her knife, and sliced it in half. “Should my counsel hold meaning, that is.” Laurelin ate her portion, allowing Nick to chew on her words while he slurped his soup.
Once filled, she broke the silence. “I am in the midst of clearing out another Sahagain nest.” Placing the cup onto the table, she hummed, threading her fingers over the ceramic. “Typically this would have been a great opportunity to teach you Thunder. However, given current circumstances, it is best to withhold that lesson.” Her gaze traveled across the common room, focusing on a particular redhead and with it came a solution. “I’ll have arrangements made,” she mused aloud. “A room tonight, food. Warm clothes. A trusted guide.”
She should escort him. In the past, she would have just done that. She warred with herself over the decision. Perhaps she’d meet back up along the way. Yes, she reasoned she could do that. “I will meet you in the morn,” she said, “should you wish to travel. Walk with you both to Torensten. I promise.”
She rose to her feet. “You’re free to decline,” she added. “Ultimately, the choice is yours.” With that, she set off.
In the morning, she would return to hear his answer.
If he wished to travel, she’d walk alongside him towards the city, before parting ways when sand met cobblestone, with words of encouragement.
Post by Laurelin Hawthorne on Dec 17, 2022 17:24:24 GMT -6
Had he been one of her closest companions, she would have lowered his hand with her own. Words would have to do. “Relax.” Already, the sensation of magic was dwindling, leaving her limbs to tremble from its absence. “I have no intention of casting.” Laurelin fought back a teasing smile. She had likened a pet to a critter someone took in, raised, fed, and trained; Caius seemed to have fit that criteria.
“Wait!” Aiden’s eyes were wide, pleading, appearing younger than his years. “You were going to hurt Vordun?”
“I have fought many adversaries,” Laurelin admitted, “dragons amongst them. Forgive an old, warrior instinct.” Her gaze softened as the boy held protectively on the snout, as if he were clinging to a puppy, begging to keep it. So much for Vordun not being a pet. “I have no intention of harming him.”
Her words rang true, and she meant for both to hear. There was an unspoken threat between the two, thankfully the child was too oblivious to it, due to his fascination with dragons. Good, considering she was not about to test whether or not a human could outcast an elf. Nor was she really itching to make adversaries. Let alone an adversary with a following.
Beyond clearing a Sahagin infestation here and there, she did not mind experiencing a short vacation from world saving. Granted, the itch for adventure began needling her skin, causing her to take on a rescue challenge, heeding an instinctive call for help. Perhaps, she mused, it was just something in her blood.
Caius had lowered his hand. Perhaps it was in both of their blood. While rocky, she could see an alliance forging. Smiling, she shook the grit from her staff before securing it to her bandolier.
“You fought…dragons.”
Stricken from her thoughts, Laurelin merely nodded.
“I don’t remember hearing about you.”
Laurelin’s smile fell. “Unless you hail from Cornelia, you would not have. I am rather…new to this world. But”—she gestured toward Vordun, dismissing further questions—“enough of this interrogation. You are wounded, albeit not in pride, and need a healer.” At the sight of Aiden puffing his chest out to protest, she added: “I may indulge your curiosity at a later time.”
She kept her distance, patiently waiting for the men to settle themselves upon Vordun.
Post by Laurelin Hawthorne on Oct 23, 2022 20:07:01 GMT -6
“Oh, none sought me confidentiality,” she said, shrugging her shoulders to free her hair from her hood. Humor flashed in her eyes as she tilted her head, revealing her elfin heritage. “Whispers tend to be loud.”
While true, it was Seraphine who made excellent intel. Between her gift of foresight and orchestrating conversations to glean information, she knew much and more about Zephon. Laurelin would have been a fool not to accept her aid. In turn Seraphine had gained a mentor. Their relationship began as mutual and morphed into a friendship.
Caius needn’t know of the budding prophetess yet. Trust had to be established. Even so, she could mention children weren’t renowned for being quiet even when whispering. In this case, there had been plenty of hubbub about before Seraphine suggested she fetch the boy.
“What you seek will be revealed,” the redhead had said. “The foundation has been laid.”
Despite trusting Seraphine, Laurelin had some doubts.
As Aiden drooped his other arm across Caius’s shoulder, she kept vigil. Between the strange hero and roaming monsters about, only a fool would be caught unaware. For now she’ll remain neutral, as Caius had yet to come off as threatening. Not to mention with Aiden’s weight split between them, it would make the trek simpler and swift. Good. He needed a healer and fast.
Judging by the pace they set, it wouldn’t take long. Her staff clicked against the metal as they walked, the amber crystal pulsing like a heartbeat, illuminating their path. The three had fallen into silence, save for Aiden’s occasional gasp that was all but drowned out by the rolling waves.
Until Caius broke the quiet. It would seem that, despite his unease, he was willing to extend an olive branch. She could return it. “Laurelin,” she said, soft, brisk as the breeze. “A pleasure, famed hero.” Her smile held a secret as did the twinkle in her eyes.
By now the cool metal gave way to sand, cushioning their steps. Her visage softened moreso, enjoying the touch of nature beneath her soles. Until she spied moonlight rippling off of the scales of a massive beast. A spell leapt to her throat, ready to cas it down, until Aiden released an elated cry.
Ah, that’s right.
“Dragon.” She took in the half-eaten fish with a wry sense of humor. “First one I’ve seen as a pet.”
Post by Laurelin Hawthorne on Sept 2, 2022 10:08:15 GMT -6
He was still as stone, rooted as the oak, refusing to see the fault of his ways. It was time to switch tactics. She began by kneeling on her haunches, giving the illusion of being his equal. “Come now,” she said, a tad softer. His rigid shoulders drooped, ever slightly. “Without proper care, the chance may never come.”
She could see the whites of his eyes. It would seem her words had struck a chord. Until the air shifted and she could hear the crunches of brine beneath leaden feet. A sliver of a shadow fell over them both. Judgment Staff in hand, Laurelin swiveled, sweeping at the newcomer's legs.
Magic caressed her senses akin to one walking into a single spider web. She stopped short, as if struck. Healing magic always felt foreign despite its welcome, with its subtlest of touches, making one’s breath catch. It contrasted the name Aiden bellowed.
A name that even she recognized. Pulling the staff away, she glanced up, taking in the hailed hero. Blond and fair, was he, with a few inches on her height. His full attention was on the teen, reiterating her own points, albeit with a father’s scorn. Her eyes roamed over his figure, concluding everything seemed to match that statue constructed. Until she got to his jawline.
The statue exaggerated the beard.
Ah, well. Art can only capture so much.
Aiden’s protests had since quieted, given the gravity of Caisu’s words. Then, much to her surprise, his attention was on her. Oh. So that’s what he thinks.
She rose, eye-level with Caius. While questing went hand-in-hand with treasure, it wasn’t always the end goal. He meant well, she knew, judging by how he had thus spoken to Aiden, but the assumption was more than enough to have her set her jaw. “I came for the boy," she said, voice tight. “I am no mere archaeologist.”
“I ain’t stopping.” Aiden had some fight in him, it seemed.
Caius was not having it.
Sarah. Laurelin perked at that name. Unbidden, Princess Sarah, with her lute, and fair hair falling in loose ringlets came to mind. The Realm’s Rejoice, beloved by her citizens and to borders beyond. Laurelin dispelled those thoughts. There were plenty of Sarahs in the world. The possibilities were next to none. Yet she could swear the crystal at her chest warmed. Was it a sign?
“Perchance”—she shook her head—“nevermind.”The likelihood of you knowing Princess Sarah from Cornelia is next to none.
The same could be said of there being a Warrior of Light hailing from Elfheim. Yet here she was, the testament in flesh.
By now Aiden was defeated and on his feet, albeit unsteady. Laurelin swept in, scarred hand reaching to steady him before allowing him to lean against her like when she favored her quarterstaff. He hadn’t stopped watching either, as one who’s deciphering a puzzle. Laurelin offered a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Count your blessings. Had it been me, you would have been sent home with a bruised ego, lacking an interview.”
As Aiden balked she released a bell-like laugh. “Now then, it is time I carry out my mission.” She flashed Caius a lopsided grin. “You are welcome to tag along if you’d like.”
Post by Laurelin Hawthorne on Aug 30, 2022 11:43:22 GMT -6
serve the good, be one of the greats, heal the world and change our fate
Winds had died with the sunlight, giving way to a starless night, one that brought a rare chill to the land this season. The moon slashed the sky like a ghastly smile. The beach was dark, isolated, and cold. Tides had receded, leaving pools akin to splintered glass upon the white sand which stretched miles upon miles. Laurelin left nary a track as she traversed the coastline.
Her goal was simple.
A teen had gone into the ruins at sunrise; he had come back with the sunset. The locals made it out to be a common occurrence, come the changing of the seasons, wherein the inexperienced thought themselves experienced only to be lost to Leviathan’s wrath.
Laurelin was no stranger to the tides, to the swallowing sea, to the oppressive waves. Save for it was the Kraken who ruled the raging waters. She also surmised not many travelers carried Oxyale on their person.
Moonlight glistened off the ruins, rising like some beast’s teeth on the horizon, foreboding. Laurelin’s eyes narrowed as she narrowed the distance. It reeked, and not of rotting seaweed and brine. Death had always left a bitter tang on her tongue.
Her foot made contact with the first stair and Laurelin heard the distinctive whang beneath her sole. The entire structure was made of metal, a testament to the skillset of the old civilization. She could make out the interlockings of the plates, could imagine the engineering that must have taken place here centuries prior. It mirrored the Sky Folk’s own fortress. At least the latter still hummed with life. Here it was silent as a grave.
Death did not easily sway her. Pressing further into the ruins, she began her search. Aiden was said to be five and ten years old, nearing his day of life celebration, with a curl of strawberry blond hair with a burst of freckles. Orphaned for some odd years, he had taken to part time jobs to pass the time, aiming for a better life with the money he’d earn. From what she could gather, he had quit his job on the docks, and set out on this quest.
Ancient artifacts always stirred the blood. Even the arguably wise folk went gaga over the unknown whereas others often scorned it, believing everything to be cursed, born out of their own fear. Given the number who have died over this alleged item, Laurelin couldn’t necessarily fault them for their mindset. Yet she could not deny she loved chasing the mysticism.
The moon rose higher, casting shadows that crept like spiders across the cold surface. Laurelin quickened her pace. There was no description whether or not Aiden had packed for overnight nor weather changes. Which meant he most likely hadn’t prepared food rations. Around her, as Laurelin all but danced around the broken remnants, it took only one mishap to break a leg.
A chill ran down her spine. Blood, red as poppies. Her eyes skimmed the ancient, alien monolith. There were signs of a skirmish or, judging by the lack of bodies, an accident of some sort. Motivation stirring in her chest, Laurelin rose, redoubled her search. Shaking loose her Judgment Staff from its bandolier, she breathed out a single word ’Fire’, and the amber crystal flared to life, flickering like a candle.
The rippling pools captured her reflection, a wraith clothed in blue, her hair shimmering in the pale light. In this light she looked ever like the Sahagin that roamed the shores. Such thoughts didn’t warm her. Neither did the blood trail she spotted.
Within the megalith’s shroud, she found the boy. He had tensed at the sight of her, snarling, thrusting a fileting knife upward, poised to strike. Sweat beaded his brow, his breathing uneven. Blood trickled from his nose. Once his eyes refocused, the fight drained out of him, evident by his leaden limbs. “Fat Chocobo’s feathery arse,” he whispered.
“Language,” Laurelin said with a wry smile. Despite being weary and bloodied, he seemed to be in relatively good spirits.
Having caught her expression, the teen puffed out his chest. “Just a scratch,” Aiden offered, grimacing around the pain of his mouth. “Thought you were that stupid sea hag comin’ back.” Lifting his knife in a loose grip. “Was ready to gut you like a fish.”
That earned him a rich laugh from the elf which brought out Aiden’s own, reedier laugh. “Glad to know I am not a hagfish in need of filetting, then.” The humor dried up the moment Aiden hacked up blood, spat it dancing shadows. She drew closer, keen eyes skimming over his limbs, finding only bruises and scrapes on exposed skin. “A broken nose is hardly a scratch,” she mused, “yet still a better outcome than death. Pray tell, whatever possessed you to travel so light and alone? There is strength in numbers.”
“Wanted to prove I was good enough for the Blades.”
He speaks of the Dragonblades. Laurelin had gone still as winter. While she had heard tell of their deeds, their triumphs and rumors of their chaotic influence—namely dragons becoming a popular pet—she had paid little overall. Save for the occasional swiping of their potential clientele before everyone went to them directly. An initiation to this extreme felt unorthodox for a highly praised group. Perhaps she should investigate them some more.
Laurelin dispelled those thoughts. Now was not the time to get up in arms over others’ recklessness. A good tongue lashing would come later; a broken nose paled in comparison to a mother’s scorn—even if Laurelin had to be the substitute matriarch. “Cast aside this nonsense. You are in need of a healer.”
“No.” There was a fire in his eyes, driven. “Not leaving until I get the treasure.” His countenance hardened, the blood flecking from his cracked lips, adding to his monstrous appearance. “Not until I can prove I am good enough.”
Youth came in many forms: stubborn, fickle…stupid. Laurelin had hit the jackpot, apparently. Perhaps she really was old.
Post by Laurelin Hawthorne on Aug 24, 2022 11:13:32 GMT -6
Laurelin’s eyes lit up. “So I won’t be accompanying a lady with an apology for waylaying her!” Her laugh was sweet to her ears. So was her voice.
“Your old friend sounds wise.” She left an unspoken not to mention very elvish hang in the air. So Terra was one accustomed to travel, which seemed at odds in this crowd. Sure, while Torestanians used their ships, it seemed within the realm of their borders. While uncertain, Laurelin surmised Terra must have traveled outside the realm of airships, used to roughing it, with twigs littering her hair. Laurelin’s heart lurched as memories of her companions waking with forest litter clinging to them, eyes hazy from sleep. “May their adventures be grand.”
While she spoke, Terra had adjusted her hairpin, capturing Laurelin’s eye. It looked lovely, delicate, yet strong, like the woman standing before her. Perhaps that was a memento from her dear, old friend. She hadn’t much time to dwell upon it, for her company spoke again. Lovely. While accustomed to the idioms of humans, the word had taken her aback. None ever called her lovely—even in platonic conversations such as this. Laurelin found she liked it.
“A visitor,” she admitted as warmth colored her cheeks. “I have reviewed maps and asked about and found no traces of my home.” Contrary to popular opinion, Elfheim was not the center of the world. Only Nick—the fledgling red mage from Gaia—had an inkling of her town. Given her peoples’ secrecy and him hailing from the same world, it came as no surprise. The last she knew, he was also in Torensten, hopefully under the tutelage of a local mage or in the academy itself. Perhaps they’d cross paths again.
Paths. Her stomach churned. How she missed them. Turning her attention towards the distance, where she felt the deep roots of the trees beyond city limits tug at her heart. While she would have loved to bask beneath the canopies, Laurelin felt a greater need. Her companions may walk this realm, and she found herself driven to find them. “The wind has been calling,” she said, absently aloud, her fingers toying with the strap of her satchel, “and I am likened to follow it.” Her eyes found Terra’s. “I am sure you understand.”
