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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[attr="class","wiingtop4"]I'll admit you have the courage, but have you the wits?
[attr="class","wiingpost"]
Forged for battle and tempered by conflict, Setro’s previous setback did little to hamper the duo’s flawless synchronicity against the now morbidly wounded djinn. Though only recent acquaintances, the paladin valued Auron’s skills as if they knew each other for untold decades. A boon of gratefulness that he was here, for Setro could scarce imagine how things would’ve turned out otherwise. Besides, slaying fiends and cutting down evil where it stands just happened to be a speciality they were both proficient in. The djinn, however, rather than knowing better, found out the hard way.[break][break]
Its excruciating wails pervade their ears one last time as Auron dealt the fatal blow, its demise hastily catching up to it with the drawn out scream. Whatever words uttered were alien to them both. One could fathom it was cursing both warriors as if it feigned innocence. But the djinn knew better than to linger. As it reeled back from Auron’s revolt, Setro pulled his bloodied sword from the gaping maw of a wound, swinging it to the side to rid any dribbling remnants to the ground before coming to a staunch and upright position.[break][break]
Amidst the loud and ragged breathing provided by the djinn, Auron managed to cast a glance towards Setro, inquiring about his well being. In truth, he was still rattled by what he saw, what the djinn tormented him with. But whatever mercy would’ve compelled the paladin to put the beast down here and now had long since been forfeited. And it knew better than to try its luck against them.[break][break]
He took no comfort in it, but this creature had the intelligence to know better.
[break]
“I am,” Setro replied, looking over to the guardian with an appreciative curl to his lips whilst adding, “— thanks to your efforts.”[break][break]
Again, they were intruded by the curtling sounds of anguish as the djinn finally succumbed to its wounds, choking on its own blood before slumping over in a crimson puddle. The fiend’s strength was betrayed by its slow wit. Otherwise this battle would have dragged on and undoubtedly left the two worse for wear. But for all the indignation he previously felt, the look in Setro’s eyes as he looked upon its lifeless frame heralds naught but pity. It threw away its life so recklessly. A needless death they were forced to administer. Whatever silence came after, came from some hope, however vain, that its soul would be humbled in the hereafter.[break][break]
That silence would soon be broken.[break]It seems to be a running theme by this point.
[break]
“They did it! They slayed that awful creature, kupo~!”[break][break] “The Wanderwood can exist peacefully[break] again, now that the screaming is gone!”[break][break]
No doubt reflex and precaution ran stiff in both their spines, forcing the grip on their weapons to tighten. Was this another trick? It couldn’t be. The djinn laid lifeless before them! However, sparing a moment of thought, one noticed the tone didn’t perforate their ears. It was gentle in tone, light in pitch and welcoming in nature. Setro looked beyond the dead fiend and spotted two floating tufts of red fur that would be accompanied by small flying creatures, with white fur and a gentle air about them. Now they were within sight, the two spoke again.[break][break]
“Don’t be alarmed, kupo~! We come in peace.”[break][break] “We moogles live here in the Wanderwood,[break] but we couldn’t leave the village without[break] getting attacked by that pesky Djinn!”[break][break] “That’s right! But now that it’s no more, we invite you[break] to join us at our village as thanks, kupo~!”[break][break]
The wonder in Setro’s eyes was mired with the confusion of witnessing these creatures speak so eloquently. Without voicing that, however, he looked over to Auron and simply inquired, “I believe we take them on their offer, but keep our wits about us. What do you think, Auron?”
[attr="class","wiingtop4"]I'll admit you have the courage, but have you the wits?
[attr="class","wiingpost"]
The tremor of Auron’s voice and the impact of the blow caused the haze that hung over Setro’s eyes to become a mired blur, forcing him to blink and regain his focus. Yet when he did, the visceral image of Aria was no more. It had been nothing but a delusion of his mind— no, not his. The djinn took something dear to the warrior and lauded it over him as a bait he all but nearly fell for. Whatever shock and despair gripped Setro died out to a quiet anger. The time would come when he’d voice his lamentations and appreciation for Auron’s intervention, but right now, all that was is a cold glare devoid of mercy. A vengeful storm bursts from a calm man.[break][break]
Swift was the turn of Setro’s head as he watched Auron fend off the unsuspecting blow. Every decision, every action and reaction henceforth had to be carried with haste, lest their quarry escape to torment them some more, and the warrior will be damned if he lets the thought even enter the monster’s mind. But the window of opportunity was plentiful. Yes, the extended arm drawn from the portal was a hefty boon.[break][break]
Despite what would come next, Setro’s mind wanders, existing in an infinitesimal instance between one moment and the next. His thoughts return to Aria. Of course it would, but what transpired wasn’t what lingered. Setro recounts one of her anecdotes about the human body— a hefty price for always having the woman mend his wounds before the crystal’s calling. She spoke of how versatile a hand is and how utterly useless it becomes if struck correctly. But would this apply to the djinn? The warrior must confess that he didn’t care if it availed them or not, only that the attempt would wound the fiend.[break][break]
Rearranging his body in an adaptive stance, his toes curl into the earth beneath them and his hands grip aggressively onto both sword and shield. Even in his wrath, Setro’s movements limned a sublime grace as he leapt over Auron in a single bound. Upon his descent, he aimed his sword earthward, driving it into djinn’s bulky wrist. Teeth grit against the resistance of bone, muscle and nerves as he pushes the sword deeper.[break][break]
The scream returned once more, only… it was screaming in agony. Good.
[break]
With the coalescing weight of his own body, as well as the force behind his counter, Setro would effectively pin the djinn’s bloodied hand into the ground. Their quick thinking meant the djinn had no choice but to engage— like a hyena desperately fighting against two lions. Every time the hand tries wrangling free of its torment, the warrior grunts and resists its attempt. Soon, however, in a desperate attempt, the fiend would abandon its foul manipulations and through the portal came a roaring djinn. “Now!” There was no elaborate order, but merely a mutual trust between both Setro and Auron’s intuition.[break][break]
From a quick glance, it would seem the warrior clad in azure intentionally made himself the target this time— stabbing a djinn’s hand would effectively do that, after all. But there was good in this decision. Pain and anger turned the djinn violent at him… meaning Auron and that hefty slab of a sword could move and attack freely and with little to no resistance.
[attr="class","wiingtop4"]I'll admit you have the courage, but have you the wits?
[attr="class","wiingpost"]
The screaming had stopped.[break] She’s fatally wounded.[break][break]
‘Aria…?’ Disbelief rattled his core, his eyes widened with shock and his mouth hung ajar from the inability to formulate anything cohesive. The white and blue of her liturgical raiment, profaned and smeared with her own blood. Auron’s words fell not on deaf ears, but this was different. Setro knew this woman. There’s no possible way the djinn could hold sway over his mind so intimately to portray this sordid tableau, yet every fibre of his being shouts at him— that is what fell on deaf ears. His heart sank into an unfathomable depth unbeknownst even to him as he witnessed someone dear to him debased to such butchery. Worse yet, he wasn’t there as her shield to stave off the unknown threats of Zephon. [break][break]
The screaming had stopped.[break] Where were you?
[break]
A struggle between his instinct and the sight he was forced to endure left his shield-hand lift albeit with a slight stammer of hesitation. “Aria… I…” The worry smeared across the usually cool countenance like wildfire. For a moment, the upheaval of what might’ve come to pass drowned him. Cerulean hues flutter him back to the now and one thought urged itself through the cesspool of doubt and remorse— save her. “Just hold on, I’ll…” in the span of his words, Setro gripped his sword as a warm glow emanated from the blade. As a paladin, he was awarded with a myriad of basic white magic spells, namely cura. Armed with this, he would hope to discard the looming threat that hung over Aria.[break][break]
But then, she began to fall.[break][break]
“Aria!” Lightning possessed the soles of his feet and pushed him forward in hopes he would prevent the fall from worsening her injuries. Setro’s heart roared with trepidation and thumped firmly against his chest-plate. Alas, he wasn’t quick enough to stave off the fall. Luckily the white mage fell to her hands and knees, but her breathing grew erratic, laboured, even. Since the days of their youth, she was always a fighter, ever defiant against the powers that be. It was this quality that managed to sustain her thus far. The dread in the warrior’s eyes in knowing that it can only sustain her for so long. None of this would’ve happened if he was there. None of this would’ve happened if he got here sooner.[break][break]
The screaming had stopped.[break] You didn’t protect her.
[break]
Heavy was the knee that sunk into the earth beneath them as Setro knelt beside Aria. The hum and glow of his sword were still vibrant, yet he was beset by his own failings. “Forgive me, Aria. I should have been here.” Somehow, the mage managed a small chuckle, as if to jest at his expense— a common exchange the two would have on their adventures. But in this moment, this slither of time between one moment and the next, it seemed as if the whole world drowned out into nothingness. It was just them two. Nothing mattered right now, save for her wellbeing. Auron, however, might have gleaned more than the paladin could, or rather, the wizened swordsman may have noticed something about Setro’s body he wasn’t aware of.[break][break]
Not once did Setro touch Aria. Even now, his body was vehemently struggling to stop him.[break][break]
Unaware of his surroundings, a miasmic vapour of magic hobbled behind Aria. It was the djinn. It thought itself nimble enough to harm the paladin and flee so that this game could meander on. From this portal, an arm ruptured forth, almost dwarfing Setro in size. Fattened digits curl and clench with a mighty fist as it ripped forward and attempted to strike at the warrior from the right. Though stout of body and formidable, an attack like this wouldn’t be so easily walked away from.[break][break]
But the djinn’s arrogance entranced him from the fact that the warrior of light wasn’t alone.
[attr="class","wiingtop4"]I'll admit you have the courage, but have you the wits?
[attr="class","wiingpost"]
Ah, alas, some much needed clarity had finally availed him. His armour bore a likeness to some back in her world. It was a peculiarity he would ponder upon later. For now, Setro would again be regaled by this young woman’s story. One oft believes that the ceaseless narrative belies vanity, but the warrior saw nary a hint of vain intent, but rather a young woman whose voice might’ve very well fallen on deaf ears. That is why he appeared content, even flashing a small smile when Oleg’s wisdom betrays his integrity. Besides, he wasn’t one for monologuing himself, so letting others fill the void became a mite game; he would listen, take note of anything worth noting and then reciprocate accordingly, and that time came when she finally beseeched his name.[break][break]
“Setro,” he replied, “— and I am indeed an Outsider, something I only recently learned from that merchant.” The moniker was fitting and yet served as a double-edged sword. On one end, it helps signify those beyond this realm of Zephon, whereas on the other end it will always stir an air of uncertainty because they are all transient guests. Setro pressed on and continued to elaborate.[break][break]
“Acquaintances, but I heard one of them is capable of alleviating your woes.” The warrior looked over to the yonder menagerie, trying to discern the merchant in question. “They seek abled bodies to protect their caravan westward through the marshlands. From what I have overheard, there is a ferry that can take them over the lake and into the region of Torensten.” Looking back at the young woman, he conveyed optimism through a reassuring smile and stout tone. “Rather than being compensated in gil, you could perhaps convince them to repair your goods.” Undoubtedly a stark win/lose scenario, as she would be bereft of payment in return for something of sentimental value being spared from degradation. In a way, Setro was keen on observing what would transpire. Would she forsake sentimentality for monetary gains? Or shall the heart prevail, even if it might come to her own detriment? Ah, not that he’s ever one to judge when it comes to the latter.
[attr="class","wiingtop4"]I'll admit you have the courage, but have you the wits?
[attr="class","wiingpost"]
“Then I shall draw its ire. Be ready.” In the same breath, cold steel scrapes against leather as Setro unsheathes his sword, with fingers coiling its handle in a tight and readied grip. With the twilight of his statement came a nod of assurance before the warrior turned and quickly paced himself a few steps ahead, well beyond Auron’s reach. If this creature were indeed a predator now turned prey, retreat would oft be aligned with self-preservation and often the alternative taken. But in some rare cases, the change of power or challenge of it might make whatever creature eluding them reveal itself, akin to a gorilla banging its chest in dominance. Which begs the question — how will Setro draw them out?[break][break]
To and fro do eyes sharpened with acuity and steeled by bravery dance, trying to find the pattern amidst the disarray of screeches. Auron was right, it was on the move, but its desperation left a trail, a pattern that Setro began to catch up on. With every piercing howl, the warrior projected a map in his mind; each bellow was close but not brazenly so. He’d estimate perhaps… the 3rd or 4th row of trees surrounding them was where it frequented.[break][break]
Could it be that the screeching doubled as a means to mask its movement amongst the trees? If that was the case, then it just meant Setro had to outpace it and anticipate where it may land next. Thankfully for patterns, once you memorise them, they’re shockingly easy to expose.[break][break]
Setro’s eyes shot to the left of them, his body stiffened and the grip of his shield tightened as he exclaimed, “There!” It was then that his plan went into motion. Reeling the hand that favoured his shield across his form, the warrior loosened it from his person and launched it to one of the trees at a devastating speed. What came next was a sound of both shock and impact as the creature in question broke from the silhouette of deception; a chameleon-like creature with Setro’s shield cratering into its neck — and all this transpired in the span of about three seconds.[break][break]
This should be the end of their distressing encounter… yet the coming moments only portend what’s to come. All their hypotheses fell flat within the seconds following the warrior of light’s gallant attempt to subdue their foe.[break][break]
No sooner than when the hit landed did the shield seem to whizz straight through their supposed adversary. Gritting his teeth, Setro’s shield spun back around and returned to his possession before he verbalised their ongoing malaise. “An illusion. Does it think us simple?” Reversing his gait, the blue garbed warrior backed up into Auron’s vicinity and quickly relayed their safest formation. “I fear the worst has yet befallen us, Auron. We must guard each other's backs.”
[attr="class","wiingtop4"]I'll admit you have the courage, but have you the wits?
[attr="class","wiingpost"]
“You needn’t apologise.” That’s about as far as his response got before another tangent blotted any attempt for a time, not until the meerkat gave a suggestive stomp to break her from the verbal trance. But when she had asked him to elaborate on a prior statement, Setro took the opportunity to say his piece before any inkling of further meandering were humoured by the woman. “It is not uncommon to find a mender of goods amongst the merchants that have tailored their skills to fix leather and steel alike— alternatively we can ask the merchants for more information.”[break][break]
As anticipated, the woman was lost within the thicket of words spouting forth, but this trail led to a path less walked, evident by the forlorn expression that required yet another intervention from her pet. Ever the stalwart agent against the tides, the warrior’s meerkat would bring her back, albeit through an extreme measure… jumping on Setro.[break][break]
It was an effective tactic, that much he’ll readily admit.
[break][break]
The warrior's eyes widened at the successful leap and even when the woman tried retrieving her pet, it remained ever defiant on his helmet, with Setro not once looking away. After the brief stint, however, the meerkat would skitter its way down the warrior of light’s form and back onto its owner, who was plagued with a tinge of red across her sheepish countenance. With a bow and apology, one could only imagine the embarrassment, especially since they were in a public venue. Setro chuckled. It was quick and without offence. Shortly after, he lifted his hand with a dismissive gesture and said, “Think nothing of it. Your small friend here— Oleg? Is wise and worth heeding, even if he cannot speak.”
[attr="class","wiingtop4"]I'll admit you have the courage, but have you the wits?
[attr="class","wiingpost"]
The cerulean raiment that adorned him shifts in the direction of the bystander, and while the merchant appeared ruffled at the sudden intrusion, Setro was calm, stilled like a body of water once it settled. Though, during what appeared to be a crescendo of her curiosity, a small creature appeared from the confines of her armour. This little mammal observed the warrior and no sooner than when it sized him up did it signal for the woman’s attention to focus on him, or his armour, to be exact. Her eyes beamed with elation, and despite her inaccuracy of the armament that he dons, he would humour her nonetheless.[break][break]
But the moment his lips parted and a single strand of sound trickled from his throat, her attention darted back to the merchant, leaving Setro’s mouth ajar for a moment longer. Her span for attention ebbed like the tides, back and forth it danced, it would seem. But fate would ensnare another, for the merchant was rather gobsmacked by the word vomit that spouted forth that by the time he was going to respond, she had retreated and appeared to be mumbling to herself.[break][break]
Both warrior and merchant look to each other in silence, the latter of which gave Setro a look that could best be described as your turn. Still plastered with the vacant yet stoic expression, the warrior of light moved away from the counter and slowly walked towards the woman, noting her lamentation and the object of it — the leather of her attire appeared worn and weathered by use beyond its ken. By his own deduction, anything sharp enough would make the need for it be folly. And that’s when the man finally spoke. “I could not help but overhear your predicament. Perhaps there is a mender of leather in these parts who will help for the right price.” Altering his gait, the warrior shifted around until he was in front of her before adding, “Forgive my intrusion— I am Setro.”
[attr="class","wiingtop4"]I'll admit you have the courage, but have you the wits?
[attr="class","wiingpost"]
It’s the right thing to do — the remark had Setro crack a smile, small though it may be, because the man was indeed true to the mark. There wasn’t a need to do any sort of grand standing or something akin to it, either. They were warriors. Regardless of what guided their fates, it would stain their honour to elect inaction over doing what was right. This Auron was a man of honour and integrity, virtues that have already gained the warrior of light’s respect.[break][break]
“Well met, Auron.” The armoured knight offered a bow of his head in courtesy of the crimson garbed warrior. No sooner than when he tipped his crown, however, did the wailing resume its exasperating regiment, forcing Setro to look back and ponder. Why was its tone ever changing? Was it out of desperation to see if something stuck? Or was bravado their game and the echoed screams are the last vestiges of its prey? Most wouldn’t spare a second thought and trailblaze their way in to slay the creature, yet the warrior stayed that vengeful path. He would not blithely cut down a monster if it had sentience, worse yet, if it was merely looking after its kin.[break][break]
“Yet nothing is fleeing from the sound— our wayward Chocobo ran towards it, in fact.” Taken by the statement, the warrior gave pause before inevitably stating, “Grasping at straws will not avail us. We must steel ourselves and press onward.”[break][break]
Setro was resolute in his conviction. Whatever may come, be it beast or otherwise, he will cut it down in the name of the light. But he must remind himself that as stalwart as he is, Auron may not share that zealous outlook. No judgement, of course. The warrior just felt that a quiver of fear or hesitation will invite a crack in their armour, and the man in red has already suffered a glancing blow— wait.[break][break]
Just like that, the warrior’s body straightened up as if just remembering something. His gait was then altered into a slow pace towards Auron, whereupon he rummaged through the small satchel on his person and offered the man a potion. “Here,” Setro said, holding it betwixt the two before adding, “— it should help alleviate the pain. 𝙄 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩.” The latter part of his comment was accompanied by what looked like a smirk. For warriors such as them, that smirk was one of acknowledgement. Auron and Setro are men of honour and humility, oft times to a fault, even. To put it bluntly — Setro was politely denying Auron a chance to refuse this boon.
[attr="class","wiingtop4"]I'll admit you have the courage, but have you the wits?
[attr="class","wiingpost"]
Words born from anguish were followed swiftly by those seeking forgiveness. Admittedly, if this injury coincided with the Chocobo’s abrupt departure, the warrior wouldn’t fault the man. He couldn’t — more than just his body suffered a glancing blow, but perhaps his pride too. Setro knew better than to throw salt on the wound, much less rub it in. So rather than dwelling on it, the warrior turned the proverbial page with a simple yet unfazed reply of “Think nothing of it.” As he said this, he quietly eased his sword back into its sheath before lowering the hand altogether. Try as they might to impose caution, as it stands, they were both stranded in these woods with nary a visible way out.[break][break]
As they made their exchange, Setro sized the man up and down, noting the ludicrously large sword he seemed to carry with ease. This man saw conflict, of that there is no doubt, yet his attire and overall atmosphere were not of this realm, or so he’d healthily assume. Rather than tarry with his thoughts, the armour clad warrior would make an attempt to bridge what he suspected. To that end, he turned to properly face the other before stating, “It would seem we suffer the same predicament, though.”[break][break]
“I am Setro,” he said, surveying their surroundings whilst adding, “— I trekked through these woods to reach the nearby city, but this forest portends possible deceptions, the foremost being…” The warrior’s voice was drowned out by a shriek not unlike the last, yet pools of cerulean sharpen as he turns towards the perceived origin of such a ghastly howl and boldly stating, “That.”[break][break]
That wailing screech left an indelible atmosphere in its wake, the kind that would’ve left any lesser man racked with fear. Yet here he stood against it, an unwavering pillar with naught a hint of fear. Setro would not suffer this, and something told him the other warrior undoubtedly felt the same.[break][break]
“We are beset by this foul mimicry. Retreating would be the wisest choice.” No sooner than when the warrior voiced this, his head tipped forward, ever so slightly as he looked down to the floral menagerie laid out before them. His next comment, albeit a mite quieter, was a ponder more than anything else. “Yet we would expose others by doing nothing.”[break][break]
The moment Setro said that, his decision was set in stone.
[break][break]
Raising his head, the warrior turned back to his kin in the crimson garb, his face unblemished by doubt or fear and emboldened by selfless righteousness. “I will travel deeper into these woods. If you are of the same mind, I would welcome both company and steel. But if your concerns lie elsewhere, then I wish you well on your travels.” Setro was a straightforward soul whose words were never minced nor left up to interpretation. Truly, he wouldn’t judge the man should he value self-preservation… but the life of a warrior is seldom that.
[attr="class","wiingtop4"]I'll admit you have the courage, but have you the wits?
[attr="class","wiingpost"]
From towering peaks to stagnant swamps, the warrior of light seemed to be so cruelly tested by the powers that be. Although gaining moments of reprieve, they were that and nothing more— mere moments. But a soldier embraces these transitory windows and spare gratefulness aplenty. It could be their last. Now, Setro wasn’t the sort to dwell on doubts, nor the kind to let malaise settle in so comfortably. No, he perseveres, for his friends and the crystal and yet it’s the latter that haunts his mind as of late. Ever since his arrival to the realm of Isoria, the crystal has fallen silent.[break][break]
He has theorised a myriad possibilities, ranging from dimensional interference to a lack of an over looming threat that requires the likes of him. Whatever the case may be, without the crystal’s guidance, for the first time in a long time, Setro was alone. Without direction. Without comradery. Spirited away to a world with nary a reassurance that his comrades survived… Yet he soldiers on nonetheless.[break][break]
Travelling south from the marshlands, Setro was aided by both traveller and patrons alike, having been given a boon of resources to make it through the woods and to the intended destination; Provo. Of all the cities, Provo is where Outlanders frequent the most. With some hope, his luck will pay off once he gets there.[break][break]
Fate, however, had other plans for the warrior, as his arrival to these woods instilled a palpable sensation that he was being watched.[break][break]
The density of these woods only grew the further he traversed, yet anyone dwelling within would be assailed by the ever changing warmth and cold emanating throughout the forest. Thankfully, Setro kept his wits about him— his comrade who excelled in white magic once noted that fluctuations like such can cause dizziness, amongst other lesser things. So, from that recollection, the warrior surmised this erratic change could’ve very well been purposeful. Worse yet, the promise of debilitation could make one an easy prey for whatever threats lurk within.[break][break]
Though his sword hand remained to his side, Setro kept his shield close by. He figured that perhaps waltzing through the woods armed with his blade might incite provocation, a decision that until now seemed of sound mind to make. A good decision, as a piercing screech cut a swath through the forest, prompting the warrior to raise his shield out of reflex. But when pools of cerulean gaze into the thicket, there was naught to be gleaned. The end of these noises seemed to have yet reached its crescendo, for a loud and frightful squawk caused Setro to swiftly turn around. Was he to be beset by confusion with these noises? That answer was soon answered.[break][break]
From the dense silhouette beyond him came the hurried sounds of a frightened Chocobo, rushing past the warrior and careening yonder into the deep woods that lay just beyond him. Then came another moment, short in duration but a much needed one to gather his thoughts. ‘It is as if this forest is possessed.’ His breathing steadied as Setro pondered what could portend from that train of thought. But in that silence, a chuckle left his lips. Quick, quiet, savoured only by himself as he muttered, “It would seem adversity favours me a little too much as of late.”[break][break]
That interim left no sooner than it came once the sound of footsteps could be registered. Looking to the source of the sound, Setro kept his shield up, hiding the hand that began to coil around the grip of his sword as another silhouette began pushing through from the thicket of trees. What he saw was a man weathered by the same tribulations he so recently endured, yet seeming to favour one side over the other. Perhaps…[break][break]
“Excuse me,” said Setro, “— I don’t suppose the Chocobo that sped into the woods was yours?”[break][break]