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
Welcome one and all to our beautiful new skin! This marks the visual era of Adventu 4.0, our 4th and by far best design we've had. 3.0 suited our needs for a very long time, but as things are evolving around the site (and all for the better thanks to all of you), it was time for a new, sleek change. The Resource Site celebrity Pharaoh Leep was the amazing mastermind behind this with minor collaborations from your resident moogle. It's one-of-a-kind and suited specifically for Adventu. Click the image for a super easy new skin guide for a visual tour!
Final Fantasy Adventu is a roleplaying forum inspired by the Final Fantasy series. Images on the site are edited by KUPO of FF:A with all source material belonging to their respective artists (i.e. Square Enix, Pixiv Fantasia, etc). The board lyrics are from the Final Fantasy song "Otherworld" composed by Nobuo Uematsu and arranged by The Black Mages II.
The current skin was made by Pharaoh Leap of Pixel Perfect. Outside of that, individual posts and characters belong to their creators, and we claim no ownership to what which is not ours. Thank you for stopping by.
[attr="class","wiingtop4"]Gotta show these guys how a pro does it.
[attr="class","wiingpost"]
It was with a mite of effort that he stemmed his impatience, as if the air around him deflated from its previous tension. It wasn’t an intended atmosphere, of course, just a byproduct of being free from ten years of a heretical entombment. Okay, so even before that time, he was too energetic to be still for too long, but wouldn’t you want to soak it in after a decade of being stuck looking like a gigantic whale? That aside — rather than express any kind of apology, whether it be verbally or even visually, Jecht instead flashed a mischievous grin at the man’s latter comment. “Yeah,” pausing, he shifts his head to and fro, wrangling a few small cracks and a loud pop from his neck, urging the guardian to make a small sound of relief before adding, “— discretion ain’t exactly my thing.”[break][break]
Though not necessarily something worth praise, he sure didn’t see it that way. But there wasn’t a lot of time to tarry about praiseworthy traits when he blurted, “Right, let’s get going,” before veering around into the direction of the thicket laid beyond them. Given his… lax choice of garments, with his bare feet being the biggest offender, one would think Jecht daft to traverse through the woodlands without some modicum of protection, yet refrain from voicing it to him in fear of being mocked or even laughed at. Why? Other than his garish demeanour, Jecht has faced harsher conditions in the same skimpy digs— he wouldn’t have cared, to put it bluntly.[break][break]
Whether it's lightning strikes or snowy tundras, he’s weathered them all.
[break]
After a few minutes into their expedition, with the two parting and pushing the varying branches and bushes aside whenever necessary, Jecht felt the silence would’ve burrowed its way into his skull if he didn’t say something. Hell, anything would’ve been fine by this point. “Oh.” breaking the silence (if you could call it that), the blitzballer’s attempt at dialogue was briefly interrupted with a particularly large and low hanging branch. “Should’ve asked you earlier.” Leaning down, iron-clad digits sank underneath the wood with a small grunt following suit as Jecht lifts and pushes this would-be barricade with relative ease before finally getting to his inquiry. “You got a name?”[break][break]
Anyone that knew this bombastic and energetic spirit knew this wasn’t entirely his approach to conversations. Well, when you wind up in another world that isn’t Spira, alongside other people from other worlds? He can't be exactly gallivant, lest he push the wrong person. But maybe once this guy sobers up from the sombre countenance, he could throw him a bone and see how he reacts. What? Jecht might’ve mellowed out after a decade, but a coeurl’s stripes don’t change.
[attr="class","wiingtop4"]Gotta show these guys how a pro does it.
[attr="class","wiingpost"]
Jecht travelled northeastward to the city of Provo after his emergence from the proverbial womb of the coast. With a chance encounter here and there, as well as that spiffy Hero’s Haven resort, the guardian was availed with some well sought out information; where he was, how it came to be and were there others like him. Well, maybe not the how, but he’ll take two out of three. This world was known as Zephon, and those like him weren’t entirely an uncommon phenomenon, as they were given the moniker of Outlander. He didn’t care too much about the labelling, nor was he really fixated on the premise of other worlds existing beyond here. Jecht would think about that in passing throughout his adventure. It was the implication that there may yet be others from Spira, vestiges of his life he needed to see with his own eyes. With any luck, he might be lucky enough to find Auron and Braska. With any luck, he might be able to…[break][break]
With both his greatsword and a knapsack (courtesy of the resort) slung over his back, the guardian traversed through the dense thicket of forest for what felt like a few hours, but it was exhilarating. Ten years of being starved for the touch of sunlight on his face and the feeling of earth beneath his feet. What might’ve been considered infinitesimal to others, he cherished. From being a vessel of Spira’s suffering and that damn Yevon’s wagon to this? You bet your ass he would savour it! This was a new leaf to ignite the spark for adventure and if the fates willed it, help him mend wounds he never had the chance to fix. One step at a time, though. First was some sight-seeing, the latter of which would grace him once he broke away from the woodlands and marvelled at the view of Provo.[break][break]
It was short-lived, however, as a woman garbed in red caught his eye… no, not like that. It was her gait— it looked strained, forced, even. If Jecht required further evidence, it was the small grimace she bore up until she sat down for a moment’s reprieve. He’s all for pushing yourself, but belying the machismo was a pang of wonder, or perhaps concern that the walk back would be formidable to them. As he got closer, Jecht swung the knapsack around and rummaged through its contents until he pulled out a glass bottle of water. ‘Should I…?’ A moment’s hesitation batted around in his head before it was overwhelmed by another thought. ‘It’s the least you can do, ya’ moron. Besides, gotta build a good reputation somehow.’[break][break]
Slowly, he approached her, slightly halting himself from breaking the calming silence she seemingly found herself in, and yet he did nonetheless. “Uh, hey…” Jecht chimed, “— sorry for butting in, but I reckon you might need some water if you’re gonna go on another trek with those legs of yours.” By no means was he ever good at breaking the ice… but he’s trying.
[attr="class","wiingtop4"]Gotta show these guys how a pro does it.
[attr="class","wiingpost"]
Charting a course through the seas of uncertainty was nary an easy task. The winds of change are harsh and the portent storms are unforgiving. So why did Jecht stare down the forces of nature with nigh a sliver of hesitance or fear? The usual reason gets chalked up with some bravado and a witty remark that it wasn’t his first rodeo; a factual point, but not the entire story. The truth is he can’t afford to falter. Being the foremost expert on being spirited away, it became a self-imposed responsibility that he keeps his head on straight. Through that, maybe those suffering the same ordeal won't feel like they’re beset by that dreadful unknown… easier said than done when the wizened warrior kept his guard up. As far as Jecht knew, he kept it all close to his chest.[break][break]
Now that same man paced back to the divot from whence he came. Oh boy.
[break]
A quiet snarl was muffled beneath his formidable restraint. Jecht wanted to take that lackadaisical wave as a transgression, at least, that was the case until a flicker of light bounced off something that was buried amidst the sand. No doubt that’s where the guy was walking towards. Try as he might, impatience began seeping through; his bare foot tapped repetitively against the sand and his lips were pursed as if trying to quietly grumble. The guardian had to remind himself that his first ‘awakening’, such as it were, was vastly different and ended far more tumultuously than what was currently transpiring — it was the driving force that stopped him from shouting again.[break][break]
Once the man unearthed the objects, however, Jecht’s brow perked up as he quietly mumbled, “Oh?” under his breath. From a glean he surmised it to be two swords, both sleek in design with one being longer than the other. Was he curious? Obviously. Would he ask about them? Nope. Not now, anyway. But Jecht’s suspicions about this guy were further cemented by this newfound acquisition. He’s definitely seen combat.[break][break]
He had to pay the man a pittance of sympathy, though. Getting dragged to another world where tools such as theirs were still necessary; whether it be for survival or conflict, was bittersweet. It’s a vicious cycle, truly, and Jecht knew a thing or two about vicious cycles… he was getting over it by this point.[break][break]
But no sooner than when his fidgeting began did it cease when the man turned around and walked back. It was replaced by a knowing glance accompanied by a small chuckle. The man’s gait seemed more… composed, refined, like he just got a second wind. ‘Good,’ Jecht thought, as he wasn’t entirely keen on having to drag around excess weight. By the time their proximity closed up, the guardian readjusted the weight of his sword before asking, “You good? Not forgetting anything else?” So maybe the impatience hadn’t left him entirely, but he made sure to spice it up as a tease, rather than a jab.[break][break]
It was too early to start mincing words and throwing fists.
[attr="class","wiingtop4"]Gotta show these guys how a pro does it.
[attr="class","wiingpost"]
“That makes two of us.” The interim before his next comment gave the guardian a moment as scarlet hues trace back to the ocean that bled into the great blue and lofty yonder. “Wherever this is, it ain’t home. I’m guessing it’s the same for you— the spiffy outfit’s a dead giveaway.” A mite injection of levity was delivered with a calm yet somewhat blithe tone, with Jecht gazing back at the man during the latter comment before looking back to the beach. Hell, it crossed Jecht’s mind that he might’ve come across as unnerving; speaking on matters any sane person would consider the greatest of impossibilities and on scales unforeseen as if it were second nature to him. It was. But here they were, contrarians to the impossible and unforeseen. It may yet convince the man in black, but that simple truth would wrap around soon enough.[break][break]
Besides, for Jecht, the word impossible lost its lustre a long time ago. He thought it impossible to pull himself from the dregs of his inner demons. Pulled that off. Spira thought it impossible that Braska, Auron and Jecht — three rejects, could defeat Sin. Pulled that off too. And the greatest of impossibles? To entrust the fate of Spira on the next generation and end the cycle of Sin? You guessed it, they pulled that off too.[break][break]
So if you tell Jecht that something’s impossible, he’ll say one thing… Watch us.
[break]
Still, a whole new world meant a whole myriad of new problems, fiends and Yevon knows what else. Everything that went down with the three misfits warranted a well earned rest, but— what’s that phrase? No rest for the wicked? Yeah, the realisation was a painful one, but what can you do? But… It meant new faces, new experiences. For Jecht? New accolades to bask in. Who knows, if people are getting pulled from their worlds all willy nilly, maybe he might see some familiar faces. Maybe he will get a chance to right some wrongs, starting with…[break][break]
Thoughts of a melancholy past tried in vain to rear themselves into his head, yet the dismissive shake of his head brought him back to the here and now. “Well…” Gripping the handle of his slab of steel, a small grunt broke through his lips as Jecht would lift and rest it over his shoulder — sparing naught an ounce of struggle lifting such a heavy thing before he looked back at the warrior and continued talking. “We ain’t gonna get any answers here. I reckon we try looking for some locals, get our bearings and all that kinda stuff.”[break][break]
Jecht altered his body in the direction of the dense thicket of trees opposite of them before breaking into a casual stride, the weight of the sword ne’er encumbering his gait. But from his peripheral, he noticed the man was still stuck in place. Mired by a deluge of information, most likely. Well the guardian wasn’t gonna have it. The enemy of progress is inaction, after all. “Hey!” Jecht exclaimed, “You coming or what?”[break][break]
Whoever he was, whatever station he once held, it was squat now. Not that it would have mattered to the guardian. Why was he trying so hard for someone he’s only known for a morsel of time? Eh, this guy reminds Jecht of an old friend…
[attr="class","wiingtop4"]Gotta show these guys how a pro does it.
[attr="class","wiingpost"]
There’s a word Jecht tried to recall amidst the laugh, something a little more fancy than half-time but more apt of a description of what was going on. C’mon, he should remember it, they had it on the movie spheres too — ah, that’s right — an intermission, or as he likes to call it, a moment of reprieve for the opposing team back when he used to play Blitzball. ‘I doubt it’ll be a thing here,’ he thought to himself as vermilion pools trace out into the endless blue. Alongside that capitulation were memories of the numerous intermissions that Braska, Auron and Jecht had on their pilgrimage. Whether they swapped stories or exchanged heated words, the latter of which he initiated just to get a rise out of the young monk, he treasures these instances, no less than he treasures the fact he retained those memories after ten long years.[break][break]
He would’ve liked to have a chance to create memories like these with his son but being a whale that didn’t know a thing about manners or not breaking stuff sorta put a hindrance on that.[break][break]
Maybe, if he hopes against the odds, the kid will end up here as well…[break][break]
Jecht’s intermission, such as it were, was, depending on the outcome, either intruded by or accompanied by a new face… a new face that looked like they saw their fair share of chaos— and not the kind you can laugh at over a fire. But once the guardian turned his head to better study the man, he saw a deluge of sorrow whirl behind a veneer of stoicism, or maybe as someone who has faced similar trials and tribulations, what lingered behind those eyes are the stuff only warriors can discern. What he could discern for now was those eyes were devoid of confrontation. They felt lost, addled by an unknown agent and the more Jecht pondered it, the more it reminded him of how his eyes must’ve felt when he arrived here.[break][break]
One way to find out.
[break][break]
Shifting the greatsword’s handle from his right hand to the left, Jecht lodged the tip of it into the sand and rests his metallic coated arm atop of it before casually (and blithely) stating, “Y’know, the beach is a lot more enjoyable if you weren’t wearing that stiff getup ya’ got there.” Joviality was the intention here, even with the prior hypothesis sitting in his head. The approach was coming from a place of good intention, yet that stern demeanour seemed like a flashing red light saying ‘Apologise, dumbass.’[break][break]
Acquiescing to that, the left hand that relaxed against his sword moved in a dismissive wave— not to the man, no, but his own comment. Jecht offered a mite shake of the head shortly before correcting himself. “Sorry,” Jecht muttered, “— I ain’t exactly the best at breaking the ice.” Time has humbled the blitzball legend, but ne’er has it thwarted his ability to be forthcoming to the blunt degree when he slightly lifted his head in conjunction with his inquiry.[break][break]
[attr="class","wiingtop4"]Gotta show these guys how a pro does it.
[attr="class","wiingpost"]
The ebb and flow of serenity washed over him like a gentle tide as the faint sound of the ocean filled his ears like a babe’s lullaby. It was his peace, one that was long overdue if you ask him. How long, you might wonder? Ten years. For ten years he was the embodiment of Spira’s pain, misery, its suffering and its transgressions, both big and small. Many came before him, but they all bore the same name, Sin. Yet for all the turmoil born of this monstrosity, many were guiled by the belief that Sin was Spira’s punishment for doing bad things… when the truth was much, much more pitiful. Ah, no point fretting over it now. That little parasite is gone and Jecht can move on and embrace an eternity beyond the one he endured.[break][break]
The ebb and flow of water washed over him in a gentle tide as the faint sound of the ocean filled his ears like a babe’s lullaby. Was this what the farplane was meant to be like? Because he always assumed it was a whole spiritual kinda thing. But he could feel the heat of the sun beat down on his body and— he could feel, he was feeling things. That’s when it hit him.[break][break]
Jecht gasped, his eyes shot wide open and his body flinched with realisation as he positioned himself upright in the water. It wasn’t his first time in this bizarre predicament, it’s just he never expected to go down memory lane like this again. The small kicks and paddles that kept him afloat continued as he began to survey his surroundings, and nothing clicked. He had no clue what beach this was, or where it might’ve even been. “What the…” the confusion that besets Jecht was a given— he was dead, after all, or meant to be. Was this the farplane? Or did he end up in a further plane of existence altogether? One thing for certain, if he could feel the sun’s warmth and the water’s touch, then that meant this was real…[break][break]
Yeah, plenty of questions without a damn answer in sight.
[break]
Moments later, having swam to shore whilst lugging the slab of a greatsword behind him, Jecht walked underneath one of the myriad trees nearby. The heft of his sword, the grains of warm sand his feet sank into, even the scent of salt carried by the sea-breeze, he could feel it all… the more he felt, the more Jecht knew this wasn’t the farplane… and it sure as Yevon didn’t feel like Spira either. But the concerns slowly began to ebb like the tides. In its stead was an idle thought; perhaps his own attempt to detract from the deluge of frustrations as he quietly mumbled, “Huh… At least I ain't getting thrown into a cell.” Jecht closed his eyes and tried to stifle a faint smirk. To no avail, it only grew larger and before too long, a small chuckle grew into a quiet laugh. Why would he find this amusing? Simple — it’s the only thing he can do. It’s either that or start blasting off in indignation, the kinda thing he wants to avoid after being Sin for ten years. So there he was, laughing at the predicament.
FULL NAME:: Jecht NICKNAMES:: Ser Jecht, The Great Jecht (self-proclaimed title) GENDER:: Male AGE:: 37 ORIENTATION:: Straight GAME OF ORIGIN:: Final Fantasy X ALIGNMENT:: Neutral EQUIPMENT:: Jecht sports a gauntlet and pauldron up the entirety of his left arm whilst using a Greatsword as his main offense.
HEIGHT:: 6'2" HAIR/EYES/SKIN:: Black/Red/Dark tanned DISTINGUISHING MARKS:: Numerous scars across his face and body, along with a large tattoo that covers the entirety of his chest.
II. PERSONA
When they say you can judge a book by its cover, Jecht’s the sorta guy whose cover is loud and proud. If you want the best? He’s your guy! A self made man with a taste of fame that cannot be quenched, whether it be as the greatest blitzball player in the history of Spira, or one of the best guardians around. Jecht’s arrogance isn’t unfounded, however— look at all his accolades, or better yet, he’ll tell you. So yeah, he may be surly and crass, but he can back it up with his strength and skill, of that he’s `00% sure of.
Yet if you scratch through the arrogance and greed, Jecht is a good man… a good man that’s unfortunately terrible at expressing it… something he laments when it comes to how he treated his son. It wasn’t until the pilgrimage with Braska that he saw the error of his ways and vowed to be better, going so far as to swear of ever drinking alcohol ever again. His jovial attitude and obligation to do the right thing often landed Braska, Auron and Jecht into numerous troubles, and that same playful streak stayed with him even when he became Sin.
The deeper you dig, the more complex Jecht appears to be. Despite past criticisms for hating practice, Jecht would work harder than anyone else and write it off as just being naturally talented. Make no mistake though, Jecht is a man of limitless conviction and will make the hard decisions when necessary… if you need any proof of that, look at his decision to become Sin. He forsook his own life to save Spira, placing his trust and hope into his son to be the one to finally end the cycle of Sin.
III. HISTORY
When it came to blitzball, there was no one else like Jecht. If you had skills, his were better. If you were good, he was the best. But standing atop the mountain of success made him complacent. He took up the habit of drinking… a lot. That fame remained but for an entirely different reason — Jecht, once the famous blitzball player, now a has-been and an alcoholic. These were tumultuous times, specifically for his son. Jecht took his drunken frustrations and took it out on his boy in the form of emotional bullying; as if that would redeem his already sullied reputation. In some attempt to regain the glory of his formative years, Jecht went out to sea with the purpose of training.
… That was ten years ago, or so he thought.
Jecht came into contact with Sin, a creature said to be the manifestation of Spira’s sins, specifically the overabundant use of machina. In truth, Sin whisked Jecht 1000 years into Spira’s future. As for Zanarkand? A booming city of lights? A wasteland, rife with fiends — nothing but a broken remnant of its former self. Jecht was found washed up near the city of Bevelle, but his ramblings and disturbance had him locked up under suspicions of drunken indecency.
However, his stay wasn’t long, for he’d be met by a former priest and summoner named Braska. Braska heard about Jecht and offered him an opportunity to be his guardian, sworn to assist the summoner on his pilgrimage to defeat Sin. Auron, Braska’s first guardian objected, stating that Jecht looked more like a cause of problems than its solution. But it was met with Braska insisting it was perfect — a heretical summoner, a disgraced warrior monk and a drunken blitzball player. Such a group was doomed to fail. What sweet irony it would be once they defeated Sin. Braska seemed crazy… but it was Jecht’s kind of crazy. He accepted the offer and became Braska’s guardian.
There were no promises the pilgrimage would be a cakewalk, but Jecht believed this journey might help him find a way back to Zanarkand, so he rolled with it. His time in Spira taught him much, humbling him in many ways — one such way, unfortunate as it was, involved a drunk Jecht mistaking a shoopuf for a fiend. That incident made him swear off drinking anything stronger than milk. His time away from home left Jecht missing his wife and child. Realising how he was acting all this time urged Jecht to clean up his act, lest his family, including his son, be ashamed of him.
Throughout the pilgrimage, Jecht matured — he had to, after all. However, he soon realised that he’d never return to his Zanarkand. By the end of their journey, all three men became close friends. It made that fateful moment all the more difficult when Braska had to offer up one of his guardians to become the final aeon… Jecht elected himself without thinking twice. Rather than despair, the three vowed to find a way to stop the cycle of Sin, even if they weren’t the ones fulfilling it.
Braska fell in battle but defeated Sin.
Jecht, now the final aeon, became its next host… the next Sin.
With whatever free will he could retain, Jecht, now Sin, sent Auron to his Zanarkand to watch over his son, in hopes he would one day be the one to end the cycle of pain. When Tidus came of age, Jecht would return, and like what happened to him 10 years ago, sent his son to Spira. Tidus would go on a journey, not unlike his father. But as an unwilling vessel, Sin would decimate entire villages and military factions. Despite all this, Tidus did it — he found a way to defeat Sin, just as Jecht intended.
Their fateful meeting happened inside of Sin. Tidus and Jecht were reunited after so long. It was a bittersweet moment, but both men had grown so much since then. Tidus knew this much… His father was proud of him. With Yuna and the others, they would finish their story and beat Jecht, and when Yu Yevon was released, they would destroy it. They destroyed Sin, and Tidus, now at the journey’s end, could return to the fayth with his father.
IV. AUTHOR
PLAYER ALIAS:: King OTHER CHARACTERS:: Setro / Warrior of Light, Ardyn Izunia ROLE-PLAYING EXPERIENCE:: Tons bro, tons HOW YOU FOUND US:: Megan dragged me here, now I'm your problem. NOTES FOR CONSIDERATION:: Consider treating yourselves because ya'll are great, ROLE-PLAY SAMPLE::
“Braska!” It all happened so fast — Auron was busy fending off the last Grenade that just swooped at Braska to notice the Imp had the summoner in its sights. This species had a knack for calling down thunder, and this bastard looked the meanest they’d encountered thus far. As it hobbled around in the air, its dainty digits bent and clenched, as if it were toiling nature itself. Dammit, Braska was too busy providing backup for either him or Auron to notice. Auron’s tough, but the fiends on Mt. Gagazet started to wear the warrior monk down. The guy was such a stick in the mud that he tried playing it off. But alas, it comes down to Braska’s ace guardian to rescue the summoner in distress.
Snow was crumpled beneath swift yet heavy footing as Jecht, the team's star player, rushed into the fray. Once he got close enough to Braska, a feral growl was accompanied by an abrupt push. Jecht barged his teammate out of the way, and no sooner when that happened, the Imp cast its hand down upon its newly acquired target. Then from aloft came down a flash of lightning that all but encapsulated Jecht within. It was bright enough to have lit up the Mountain area previously darkened by the grey clouds overhead. Having just slain the Grenade, Auron turned to witness the unfolding attack. He shouted, “Jecht!” as Braska looked on in shock and the dreaded concern that his failings came with an irreparable consequence.
As the billowing dust began to settle, a silhouette could be gleaned. The more that obscurity receded, Auron and Braska could confirm the aftermath… their weathered smiles meant this scene boded well, for there stood Jecht, bracing the brunt of that attack with his gauntlet. “Heh! The hell was that s’pose to be?” Abandoning the defensive stance he adopted so recently, he looked up at the Imp before asking, “You tryin’ to tickle me or something?” Jecht looked to his friends with that gung-ho smile as if to denounce their needless worry — he was the best, after all. Now eyeing his would-be killer, Jecht tilts his head aside to fix the creak in his neck while rolling his shoulder, still brandishing that wicked smile.
“See, now I’m itchin’ to return the favour. I promise I’ll be gentle, ha!”
