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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[attr=class,bulk] The blond man seemed fairly startled by his arrival, though he recovered quickly. That was to be expected when he’d appeared so suddenly, but to be fair, Barnabas had chosen that type of entrance out of convenience more than a desire to intimidate the stranger. It might have had that effect anyway though, seeing as the other man started to deny that he was a warrior before realizing that he’d meant that as a general comment. “Purple,” he echoed, doing another once-over of the man to ensure he hadn’t missed anything. “And that color…precludes you from being a warrior?”
The first person with a blade that Barnabas had come across, and the man might have been an idiot. That really wasn’t so different from Valisthea though.
The stranger sent his chocobo away, which suggested that he already expected things to escalate. Barnabas himself didn’t have much preference either way yet. If the man turned out to be strong, then this could make for an enjoyable battle, but that was yet to be seen. First he mainly sought information.
The other man confirmed that he could defend himself before asking him a series of strange questions involving his name and which ‘one’ he was. Barnabas raised an eyebrow at that, though his interest was honestly peaked. “Not a one of those names is familiar to me, but I’d like to change that. Who are they?” If something like Odin’s power was held by others in this world, then the king wanted to know about it. Even if it was strange to not have concepts like bearers or dominants. Magic seemed to flow far more freely in other worlds, which was yet another concept that he tried not to think about too closely. It called into question a bit more of god’s power.
“Barnabas Tharmr,” he finally introduced himself, since the blond man had been asking his identity. “I’m afraid that I’ve been here less than a fortnight. You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t yet have my bearings.”
[attr=class,bulk] Barnabas had finally left the desert to see what else this world had to offer. As it stood though, travel was certainly much slower than it had been while he was king of Waloed. He no longer had access to warships or caravans or even a reliable steed. The chocobo that he had taken from a dead man as soon as he had arrived on Zephon would have to do. The bird didn’t seem to mind that he had slain its previous master as long as he kept it well-fed and rested. Apparently an animal’s loyalty could be even more fickle than a human’s.
It took a few days of traveling by night to avoid the desert heat before the sand faded and greenery began cropping up around them. The plant life certainly put the chocobo in a better mood, but for Barnabas’ part, he found the solo journey to be strange. It wasn’t bad per se—he’d always valued his solitude—but he hadn’t truly been alone in a very long time. Not since he’d awakened as Odin’s dominant. People had flocked at his side ever since, like ravenous beasts wanting a scrap of power. And even if he’d sent everyone away, Sleipnir had remained.
It was most strange of all not to sense the egi’s presence.
After a few more days, the landscape changed yet again into towering cliffs and the ruins of an unknown kingdom. Keen to learn more of this world’s history, Barnabas changed course to draw closer to the shelled-out remains, a bit confounded when he encountered metallic creatures that seemed to dwell among them. They were easy enough to dispatch, but he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of something that seemed more machine than flesh. It almost looked like something the fallen would have created back home. Mikkel had already assured him that Ultima did not exist in Zephon, but perhaps a similar god had destroyed this civilization for the same reasons as the fallen on Valisthea? He wasn’t likely to get an answer out here, but he supposed he could always ask at the next town he encountered.
However, there seemed to be a suspicious lack of people in this area of the world. It wasn’t until sunset one evening when Barnabas had been thinking about finding somewhere to camp that he noticed a lone man high on the cliffs above him. Shielding his eyes, the king considered the figure and the chocobo that he was with before deciding to approach. The other man was likely to be gone by the time that Barnabas made his way up there, but thankfully he had a different solution in mind.
Teleporting up to the stranger, Barnabas emerged from a cloud of dark magic as he considered the man up close. “Not many seem to wander this way. Particularly this close to night,” he noted idly by way of introduction. His eyes wandered from the blond man’s armor to the sword at his side. “But I suppose you must be a warrior of sorts.”
[attr=class,bulk] Mikkel confirmed that he had no need to eat, which raised a host of other questions, but perhaps he sustained himself purely on magic at this stage of his life. Barnabas himself certainly didn’t eat as much as he once had, so he let that point slide for now. It wasn’t as important as the man’s other comments. The experiments he described, on the other hand, painted a rather grisly picture. He could almost see the appeal from a curiosity standpoint, but he was certain that most people would be horrified to hear of it. “I suppose that could in theory save multitudes of lives in the future. Assuming that you determined a full human sacrifice isn’t necessary.” Now, the participants in Mikkel’s experiments likely weren’t willing, and it certainly wasn’t saving their lives. Barnabas didn’t bother to get upset over something that had happened a world away though. He hadn’t even mustered the energy to care about the experiments being done on bearers in his own kingdom, so this was even less of a concern.
Mikkel also shared that he had a theory about why so many concepts between their worlds carried over, and Barnabas was honestly interested in the knowledge that the skeleton seemed to have over this so-called rift. “You speak of it like it’s common knowledge, but I’ve yet to hear of this rift between worlds. I’d be curious to hear your hypotheses.” He paused for a moment before feeling the need to clarify. “Except perhaps for the one about the padding.” Considering the undead man’s sense of humor, it needed to be said.
Mikkel accepted the king’s thanks for giving him his insights on longevity, and he also clarified that he was traveling around and studying Zephon. “Once a researcher, always a researcher?” Barnabas asked with a slight twitch of his lips before giving a more genuine laugh when Mikkel said that he hoped the king’s future trials were a source of entertainment for him. “I’ve yet to see what any of this new world’s warriors have to offer, but I look forward to finding out.” There seemed to be an implied farewell to Mikkel’s words, and Barnabas had never been one to overstay his welcome, so he straightened up and nodded to the skeleton. “Then next time we meet, perhaps you’ll have gleaned new information from your studies. And perhaps I’ll have adapted to living in a world without God…”
He still didn’t know if Ultima was here or not, but the possibility was looking slimmer by the minute. Barnabas still wasn’t sure how to proceed with that in mind, but he had plenty of time to decide.
[attr=class,bulk] Mikkel stated that most people objected to the baker bit over the jailor bit, which just made Barnabas shake his head. He felt that he was starting to get used to the skeleton’s particular brand of humor. “I’d only question it because I doubt you have much need for food.” Apparently he’d had prisoners over the years to keep alive, so the baking could have been for their benefit. Unlikely though, since Mikkel complained about the type of people who would come to bother him. The casual way he mentioned human sacrifices once again gave the impression that the skeleton was more dangerous than his personality would let on. “Should I be offended since I ran a kingdom?” Barnabas asked with a faint smirk before zeroing in on one word he had used. “Experiments…what exactly were you researching?” Likely nothing particularly moral or ethical, but It wasn’t really his concern what the man had gotten up to in his own world.
Mikkel knew of Odin, and Barnabas brightened as he described him as a big guy on horseback. “That would be me. Though clearly not the version you knew. Strange that the concept would carry over between worlds.” Perhaps god had a hand in it after all, even if Mikkel would likely argue otherwise.
The skeleton—or the Rust Baron apparently—also outlined a few of his legends. His longevity was honestly impressive, and he probably had a fascinating view on the rise and fall of different empires. As usual though, he made light of the entire thing. Perhaps humor was the only way to survive an existence that long without completely losing one’s mind. Unless he’d already lost it long ago. Actually, that was the more likely option considering he repeated the same thing twice and challenged him to find the differences. “Does anyone usually play along with that?” Perhaps his prisoners, but they might not have had much choice in the matter.
Still, he took Barnabas’ question on whether age had made him apathetic to everything around him seriously. One line in particular struck him. That he was free to choose what he wanted to focus on now, everything else be damned. “That…wasn’t really the case for me before, but perhaps that’s why life had lost its luster. Here though, you could be right. I’ll have to consider what I want to focus on for myself without Ultima’s guidance. Thank you.”
He was actually genuinely grateful for the insight, so he just sighed when Mikkel immediately ruined the mood. “I don’t think there could have been another Dominant of Odin while I still existed, but as it happens, I did pass my power on to Ultima’s vessel when I died. My magic is lessened considerably now. I doubt I can still fully prime into Odin, though I may still be able to manage a semi-prime.” He suspected that was also why he hadn’t been able to summon Sleipnir since appearing here. Creating an egi was beyond his magic now, which was the only reason he had chased down Mikkel himself in the first place.
“...Come to think of it, why sneak into this town?” He asked, glancing a bit dubiously at the man’s “disguise.”
[attr=class,bulk] The stranger said that Barnabas was putting too much distinction between the two versions of akashic that had been brought up. There was perhaps a philosophical point to be made there, but the king’s lips still twitched in suppressed laughter at being compared to a type of flatbread. Still, he was more curious about the allusion that the man made to his own past than he was about arguing the point. “Prisoners you say. You didn’t strike me as a jailor.” If it was said a bit dryly, then it was because he was starting to suspect the man’s history to be bloodier than his own. Maybe that was to be expected though for someone who had lived as long as the skeleton across from him. Truthfully he wasn’t even sure how old someone had to be before their very skin had left them, but that was a question for later in their conversation.
Barnabas could only sigh when the man lightly teased his use of the word Dominant again. Perhaps it was time to clear up that little misconception. “I’m perfectly aware of how you’d define it, but in this context I only mean that I have Odin’s power. There won’t be another Dominant of Odin until my death.” Or perhaps he would be the last considering that Ultima was ready to claim his vessel in Clive Rosfield. Dominants likely wouldn’t be needed anymore in the new world. It was a strange thought.
He finally had a name for the stranger, as well as a title. “The Rust Baron,” he echoed thoughtfully. “It has the sound of a legend to it. You seem to evoke fear then.” That wasn’t always a bad thing. Fear brought respect and it often kept people away who would otherwise bother you. The king himself could only tolerate a few. “Barnabas Tharmr,” he introduced himself in turn, seeing as Mikkel had given his name. He didn’t include any of his titles as he would have back on Valisthea. It didn’t much matter here whether or not he was the king of a country that no longer existed.
Mikkel of course questioned what had made him take this will back from Ultima right before he had died, which brought Barnabas pause. Nothing was forcing him to answer of course, but perhaps it was time to unpack what he hadn’t really wanted to examine yet since coming to Zephon. If it was the questions of an undead stranger that brought that self-reflection about, then so be it. Stranger things had happened. “He sought to reign me in while I fought his chosen vessel. He was worried that I would kill him,” Barnabas explained reluctantly, one hand settling in on his hip. “However, the man gave me the best challenge that I’d seen in decades. I’d almost forgotten the the thrill of the fight.” He really would have killed Clive if he hadn't bested Barnabas instead. Even if that would have ruined Ultima’s plans, the king hadn’t cared in that moment. It was hard to stomach, but it was also hard to feel guilty whenever he remembered that battle. Truthfully it might have been the first time that he’d felt anything in years.
“Do you ever find that the years have made you apathetic?” It was hard to find people who were his elders anymore, but now that he had, perhaps the man would have some wisdom to impart.
[attr=class,bulk] The term akashic apparently meant something else entirely to the undead stranger as he spoke at length about a type of flatbread served without cheese. The most sinful state for bread to exist in, according to the man, which parodied his own words from earlier back at him. Barnabas just sighted in response. He felt like he was getting used to the skeleton's games at least. “I can’t decide if you mock me, or if this is just how you make your way through the world.” Perhaps a bit of both. The king didn’t enjoy being made light of, but he was too troubled by everything else the man was saying to really address it.
Anyway, there was little point in cutting someone down who was already dead.
To his surprise, the man actually put in the effort to understand Valisthea’s origins, though he didn’t seem very impressed with what he heard as he asked if this was real or not. “You’ll be disappointed to hear there’s nothing mythological about it. Too much aether is enough to turn most people akashic, but God graced me with the honor himself. As a Dominant, I wouldn’t have been able to turn otherwise.” That word was highly likely to lead to another misunderstanding, but Barnabas simply didn’t have another word to describe his relationship with Odin. The man could take that as he would.
The undead skeleton then reasoned that Ultima’s complaints with free will made very little sense, and the king once again pondered the statue of Ifrit in the courtyard as he mulled over his words. “I believe humans developed free will organically as he slept. But I suppose you’re right that choosing to give up one’s will is in itself a choice…” He wasn’t quite ready to hear Ultima insulted so directly however, and he gave the man a more sharp look as he insulted the god crudely. “You’re trying to get under my skin. Is it a battle you’re looking for?” The man had to know those words would provoke him, and Barnabas was keen to see what he was after. A quick escape from the conversation? Or perhaps he just liked crossing his blade with others. The king could almost respect the latter.
The stranger had one last question though, and it was one that had kept Barnabas awake at night ever since he had woken up here alive. “I handed my will to him, but…I believe I took it back before the end.” The answer was like ash in his mouth, but it was the truth. He had gone against his lord’s wishes in taking his battle with Clive Rosfield as far as he had. That had been entirely on his own will. And now he was somewhere where Ultima didn’t exist after forcing Clive to take his power. Surely that meant he couldn’t be akashic anymore. What did that make him exactly?
He feared the answer, but he had a question of his own for the undead man across from him. “...What is your name? Unless you’re going to tell me again that it’s Shiva.” Barnabas didn’t often ask, but this man had given him plenty to think about. Even if he was crass and messy about it.
[attr=class,bulk] The man pointed out that Barnabas had followed him out of the temple, so if anything, he was punishing himself. That was fair honestly, though the king had to question the new nickname a little. “Kid…?” He certainly wasn’t the oldest human around, but he would have had silver hair at this point if Ultima hadn’t turned him akashic. “Though perhaps you have a point on the rest.” He had yet to hear a single word from God since setting foot on Zephon, so it was best to stop dwelling on whether or not he’d displeased him during the final battle with Mythos. There was little he could do at this point even if it were true after all. He could only offer atonement when and if Ultima demanded it.
The undead stranger also made the observation that Barnabas was raised religious, which he saw no harm in confirming. However he chose to willfully misunderstand his last comment on the priests of the Circle of Malius. It didn’t bear addressing. “Ultima created humans to obey him, so we were taught that free will was a sin. It was not in his original plan. Undeath—or turning akashic as its known there—is the least sinful state a person can exist in.”
His lips twitched a bit as he looked over the man across from him with his fake nose and mustache. He was clearly something else entirely. “I suppose that’s why I was curious about you. Why I was surprised that you’ve retained your will. You’ve taken everything from Valisthea and turned it on its head.” Which was troubling in its own right. Even if Barnabas followed Ultima’s will here and sought to unleash another aether flood, did that suggest that it wouldn’t have the same effect? This conversation was giving him a lot to mull over if nothing else.
The man shared a little of how he’d come to be this way, and it truly did sound as if it had been through his own efforts. He also confirmed Barnabas’ fears that some other worlds did not possess a god at all. “...I see. You were a scholar of sorts and came upon the answer yourself.” Despite his current comical appearance, the king looked at him differently now. Not quite with respect, but with a new understanding.
“You remind me a little of the man who killed me,” Barnabas remarked with a faint smirk as he glanced over at the statue of Ifrit that graced the courtyard. “He showed me the strength that can come with a will. ‘Would that I had not cast aside my own,’ I said then.” He wasn’t sure if he still agreed with his dying words or not now that he’d been granted a new life. Then again, it was difficult to let go of beliefs that he’d held since childhood.
[attr=class,bulk] Barnabas hadn’t been entirely sure that the stranger would actually stop without force, but he froze in a comical abrupt pose when he was addressed. The king didn’t fully understand why the man had run away in the first place, but perhaps he thought that he would encounter trouble now that he had been recognized as an ageless being. That wasn’t without merit either—humans rarely reacted kindly to what they didn’t understand. Barnabas however was just curious as to what exactly the man was. He was so different from the undead akashic of Valisthea, and the more he talked, the more Barnabas was certain that wasn’t a good thing.
He raised an eyebrow at being called a ‘benighted donkey,’ but what followed the strange insult was interesting enough that he let it slide. “Oh I think I could imagine it,” he answered with a slight twitch of his lips. From the brief glimpse he had gotten of the man behind his questionable disguise, he must have been old indeed for all the flesh to have worn from his face. Barnabas himself had only been akashic for roughly 30 years now, and he hadn’t visibly aged in that time, let alone started to deteriorate. Perhaps the creature across from him counted time in centuries to have gained that appearance.
“You obtained the gift yourself?” He couldn’t make sense of that when he thought of Valisthea, so he tried to let those preconceived notions go. “I’ve always known God to have a hand in it. I take it that wasn’t the case for you.” A pitiable existence, but Ultima might not even exist in all of the worlds connected to this one. The god had been so entwined with Valisthea that he was likely not the origin of all these other worlds. That was a troubling realization that Barnabas would need to unpack later. For now, the man declared that he had a question of his own. It was as nonsensical as the rest of his actions, but this was the one that broke the king.
Touching his forehead, Barnabas let out a rare laugh. Oddly enough, he understood the confusion if the stranger’s world didn’t have Dominants who channeled the eikons’ power. But he also didn’t feel inclined to clear up the mistake when the man was already hostile. “What am I doing here?” He asked himself instead. “Truly this is a punishment.” Ultima had clearly denied him paradise after he had indulged himself in his final battle against Mythos. And now he was trapped here, doomed to suffer fools for eternity.
[attr=class,bulk] The shorter man declared that he wasn’t from Aljana either, so he had no idea if Ifrit was in the area. That was a pity, but maybe it was to be expected if the eikon mostly lived in their legends. He said something absolutely strange about the god of fire though that made Barnabas raise an eyebrow as he finally glanced away from the mural. “He burns books.” It wasn’t a question so much as a flat statement of disbelief. There was either a story of Ultima circulating here that he’d never heard before, or the man was being a nuisance on purpose. Barnabas was inclined to think it was the second.
As he noticed the strangeness of the creature’s disguise and pointed it out, the man shushed him before proudly declaring himself to be Shiva. Despite the full beard hanging from his face and his obviously male voice. For once, Barnabas found himself properly speechless. Not from boredom or a wish to disappear onto the battlefield, but from pure confusion. He had no idea what to make of this man, and that feeling only increased when the stranger informed him that he wasn’t single before fleeing through the crowd. He’d almost certainly meant that he wasn’t alone, but the wrong wording only added to the absurdity of the situation.
The king stared after him, wishing that he had any subordinates at all who could go in his place. Living alone had its benefits until you had to do all the dirty work yourself. Dealing with people, that was. He was quite willing to dirty his hands in battle, but talking had never been his strong point. He was quite alone in Zephon though, which meant Barnabas had to chase after him himself. He had a feeling this conversation would be a painful one.
Steeling himself, Barnabas strode forward and did his best to catch up to the man before he could vanish into the temple’s courtyard. “Stop,” he called out as he reached the top of the steps. The armored man was below him and currently level with the statues of this world’s eikons. Barnabas itched to just call his sword and take the answers he wanted, but they were in a heavily populated area. He was supposed to be keeping a low profile until he had talked to Kuja again, so hopefully they could keep this civil.
“You have been granted undeath, yet you retain the burden of your own will,” he stated, furrowing his brow as he tried to make sense of that. Perhaps it was something unique to this world. Kuja had told him to forget the rules of Valisthea after all. “How is that possible? I don’t suppose that you’re a dominant. Whatever relation you claim to Shiva.”
[attr=class,bulk] The inside of the temple was crowded, which was to be expected if it was a national holiday. Barnabas carefully made his way to the edge of the throng of people, since he didn’t particularly like being stuck in a crowd. Truthfully he didn’t much enjoy dealing with people at all unless it was on a battlefield, but he didn’t have a choice now that he was on his own again. Gathering information would have been so much easier if he'd still been able to call on Sleipnir, but creating an egi seemed to be beyond him now that he’d given his powers to Mythos. After more than half a century of the commander’s company, it was oddly quiet without him.
There were inscriptions alongside the murals that dotted the temple walls, but unfortunately the writing seemed to be native to Zephon and Barnabas couldn’t decipher it at all. He turned his attention to the paintings instead. A man in full armor stood between him and the closest mural, but he was strangely short. Over his head, the king was easily able to make out the pattern of a horned eikon cloaked in fire. The figure was different enough from Valisthea that Barnabas had barely taken a glance at one of its statues outside, but now he was witnessing their god in full color. The king felt himself grow still in recognition just as the man in front of him uttered the name Ifrit.
“Pardon,” Barnabas stepped up to the armored man’s side, though he kept his feverish gaze on the mural. “The beliefs of this city are new to me, but you mentioned Ifrit. Does that mean the eikon has been seen in this region?” The possibilities were endless. Perhaps Mythos had been led to Zephon as well, or the people here knew of Ultima’s true form. Either way, Barnabas was exactly where god had meant him to be. He only felt ashamed that he had ever doubted why he had awoken in a strange land. Clearly Ultima had great designs for this place.
For the first time he actually looked down at the shorter man next to him, and for once Barnabas found himself speechless out of sheer confusion. Most of the stranger’s face was hidden by his helm and his long bushy beard, and the rest consisted of some kind of fake nose and mustache attached to a pair of frames. Even more disconcerting, Barnabas was close enough to see that there didn’t appear to be eyes behind the glass so much as empty dark sockets.
“...What exactly are you?” Perhaps that wasn’t the most eloquent question when he’d been looking to learn more about Aljana and Ifrit, but he was honestly curious. He would have thought the man was akashic if he hadn't heard him speak. Only dominants could become akashic and still retain that much of their will.