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] Oddly, no attack immediately followed after the man had managed to touch his ankle. If anything, he seemed ready to gain some distance as he used a strange technique to float further away up the cliffside, white wisps trailing behind in his wake. Barnabas chose not to press the advantage, since he was too curious as to what the man had in mind. It was decidedly odd given that he’d felt something happen when they’d made contact and yet…nothing. This battle was unpredictable, and Barnabas had no desire to end it too quickly.
His downward shot of dark magic had evidently damaged the man’s hand, since he was favoring his non-dominant side as he reached out and grasped at the air. A sword appeared in a flash of darkness, and though the design itself was unfamiliar to Barnabas, he narrowed his gaze in on the dark hue of the blade itself. It called to him in a way that he couldn’t quite explain—like a stranger that still pulled at his very core. “What is this?” He demanded slowly, before the man’s earlier magic came back to him. He had risked quite a lot for the sake of a brief touch. “You dare wield my own power against me?” He wasn’t entirely sure whether to be offended or impressed, but he certainly wasn’t bored, and that was the only thing that really mattered to him during a fight. “Well I certainly hope you know how to use it.”
Before the battle could resume, the man asked him his name, which were the first words that he’d spoken since he attacked. Barnabas let that part slide though, seeing as he wasn’t always the biggest fan of words himself. That wasn’t the case today—he was more than happy to speak when someone had his attention. “Barnabas Tharmr. Warden of Ash and King of Waloed,” he offered with a faint smirk and a shake of his head. Neither of those places existed on Zephon after all. “But the only title that still matters is that of Odin’s Dominant.” Hopefully the blond man made better assumptions about that than Mikkel had. If not, than Barnabas was going to have to start introducing himself differently on Zephon.
“And your name, warrior?” His copycat spell was a little infuriating, but he still deserved some respect for being able to wield multiple elements.
[attr=class,bulk] The warrior remained silent, which was only strange given how he’d started the conversation. Either he’d been playing at being a fool or a change had come over him. He hardly seemed to react with any surprise to what was happening between them anymore, focused as he was on the battle. Barnabas was old enough to know that something like that came from experience, but it was odd to see it in someone as young as the blond man. Then again, he knew better than anyone that appearances could be deceiving.
Whatever Barnabas had expected the man to do next, it had nothing to do with the earth suddenly opening and swallowing him whole. The king let out a delighted laugh, keeping an eye on the ground around his own feet as he turned in a wide circle. “You have the power of multiple elements? This world certainly is full of surprises.” His opponent likely wouldn’t hear him with a pound of earth between them, but it was more for his own benefit than anything else. It was difficult to get Barnabas to start talking, but once his interest was piqued then it was even harder to get him to stop. Clive could certainly have attested to that during their last few battles.
A trail of earth spread its way outward from the point where the man had vanished into the ground. Almost lazily, Barnabas raised a hand and shot a volley of small dark magic attacks into the ground there, as if testing how deep the man had gone. Chunks of earth sprayed outward, littering the air, but he made no sign of emerging. As if on instinct, the dominant looked down at his feet again just as static electricity made his hair stand on end. A hand had emerged from the earth and was grasping for his ankle. His first thought was that the man was trying to pull him into the earth with him, but as Barnabas shot another small dark magic volley at the offending hand, it managed to brush against his boot. The king was suddenly struck by the feeling that he had been caught in one of Shiva’s spells, and he couldn’t suppress a shiver as he leapt backwards to try to avoid whatever the man had in mind.
This method of fighting certainly wasn’t anything that he’d seen before, but Barnabas couldn’t say that he didn’t like the challenge.
[attr=class,bulk] It had been a long trek from the desert, but Barnabas had finally made it to the forest separating Aljana from the rest of the world’s major cities. He was eager to see what else Zephon had to offer—it was difficult to develop a strategy without knowing the world’s culture and terrain after all. Still, he had enjoyed the solitude on the journey over, and he was surprised to find that he was in no hurry to end it. Talking to Mikkel and learning that Ultima didn’t exist in this world had honestly rattled the devout man to his core. He needed to think long and hard about how he wanted to proceed, and a several week journey in isolation was perfect for that task.
That was why Barnabas was proceeding through the woods at a leisurely pace. The chocobo he had acquired outside of Aljana certainly had no complaints about that. The bird seemed equally content to amble along in the wilderness, and the pair followed what the king supposed was the trail through the forest. He hadn’t planned to stop until nightfall, but the sound of a scuffle ahead made him pause and slip quietly from the chocobo’s saddle. He could have simply teleported ahead to see what was happening, but he didn’t particularly want to get involved in matters that didn’t concern him, so he approached on foot instead.
After a moment, he emerged into a clearing that painted a clear picture. A large beast had been slain, but the dead knight in front of it looked much worse off. The man’s armor had been torn open, and Barnabas nudged the body over with his boot to see if he recognized any insignias on the front. No such luck, but he was still getting familiar with the factions that controlled Zephon. More notably though, the body appeared fresh, and the grass in front of it was bent in a clear sign of footprints. Barnabas silently eyed the path that the steps took around the bend before whistling to summon the chocobo back. The bird appeared at his side with a small ‘kweh’, and Barnabas took the reins without yet climbing back on. “Is someone there?” He called out, wanting to double-check how far ahead this second knight had gotten.
If he was lucky, then maybe they’d be a strong opponent.
[attr=class,bulk] The blond man became…suddenly less talkative than he had been before. Barnabas didn’t mind that necessarily, but the switch was rather jarring with how abrupt it was. He also wasn’t positive when the change had started because he had been too preoccupied with asking the man for a fight. It did seem odd to get no response at all to that question—not that Barnabas was one to judge for leaving people unanswered, but this stranger hadn’t seemed the type until now.
When the man finally looked up as if he’d reached some kind of decision, his eyes were the only warning that Barnabas got before a wind spell suddenly struck him full-force. The man’s gaze had a killing intent that sent a thrill through the king as he was swept backwards by the gale. It was the sort of look that someone had when they were more than just mere talk, and maybe that was why he instinctively raised a hand and summoned Zantetsuken to his grasp in a flash of darkness just as the wind spell closed in at a punishing speed. He could well imagine the sort of damage that would cause if it struck, but thankfully there was nothing he’d yet found that his sword couldn’t cut. At the last second, he slashed the blade through the air, and the attack swept outward and rendered a gash in the spell that he was able to pass through safely before hitting the ground.
Putting a hand to his chest, Barnabas laughed, looking up at the stranger with delight. That spell control would have put Benedikta to shame. Was this what Zephon had to offer? If so, then perhaps starting over here would prove to be more stimulating than he’d originally thought. “Forgive me, warrior. You’ve every right to be angry when I underestimated you. But you’ve earned the right to my true blade. Now come. Show me more of that strength!”
With that, he stepped forward into another dark portal, reappearing closer to the stranger as he swept out with his sword. He wasn’t aiming to kill this early, but Zantetsuken was a powerful blade. He truly hoped this man had more tricks like that up his sleeve.
[attr=class,bulk] The blond man stared at him in confusion when Barnabas introduced himself, and while the king had expected that, he wasn’t a fan of the dismissive way that he then asked ‘who?’ The man definitely had an ego, but Barnabas tried to remind himself that he was still new here. This stranger could be forgiven for not knowing he was a Dominant. “I see that you aren’t from Valisthea,” he said in an effort to be patient, but that was stretched real thin as the other started explaining the differences between warriors and warriors. It was almost like he didn’t realize he’d said the same word twice. “Exactly what part of that makes you purple?” He really shouldn’t have been encouraging him, but at this point Barnabas was honestly curious what made him assign colors to using magic.
He also refused to tell him anymore about the people that he’d mistaken Barnabas for, which made the king quirk an eyebrow. “On the contrary, if they carry Odin’s blessing, then I’d very much like to meet them.” It sounded like they at least channeled dark magic, which might not mean the same thing here as it did back home, but it was a lead worth looking into.
The man also gave him a very unenthused welcome as he conjured up an odd bit of magic that made a rainbow form between his hands. Not for the first time, Barnabas deeply wished that Sleipnir was here to deal with this so he could stand silently off to the side instead. This entire conversation felt beneath him, and yet here they were. “Ah. So that’s where the purple comes in,” he said a bit dryly, glancing at the bottom of the fading rainbow. “Do you find yourself to be a hero then?” Simple concepts, really. Mythos had likely considered himself a savior, and he had murdered countless people in his quest to destroy the crystals. Barnabas himself sought to rescue humanity by returning them to god’s will, but he was under no delusions about the atrocities he’d committed. Hero and villain were relative terms.
Barnabas stiffened when the man made the offhand comment that his gods must have hated him if he’d woken up in Kahiko Valley. It only stung because he’d been thinking the same thing over and over again since he’d first opened his eyes in that desert. “That might be more true than you realize,” he said with a slight upturn of his lips as he glanced down at the ruined buildings on the cliffs below them. “But I’d still hate to waste a second chance at life.” He’d thought originally that either Ultima had denied him paradise or intended him to conquer these new lands in god’s name. Mikkel had presented him a different scenario though—that Ultima had no power here, and that was the most troubling possibility of all. What else was here for him in that case? The only other thing that had ever brought Barnabas joy was the thrill of the fight.
Speaking of which. “If you have any skill with that sword, then what do you say to a duel?” He asked, looking the man over again. It had been too long since his last proper fight with Mythos. “Though I’d appreciate you lending me a weapon for the beginning.” Summoning Zantetsuken would end everything far too quickly, but unfortunately he didn’t regularly carry a steel sword. If he needed one, he usually just borrowed Sleipnir’s, but that was clearly not an option anymore.
[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.
