Edgy Hell Door

Within the bustling town of Endergrove, nestled between the stoic embrace of ancient oaks and the ever-whispering grasslands, the atmosphere thrummed with an uneasy mixture of dread and the electric thrill of adventure. The town, a labyrinth of rustic dwellings and cobblestone paths that had seen better days, was alive with the day-to-day bustle of those who called it home and those who simply passed through on their way to battles unknown.

At the town's square, a hefty wooden board stood prominently, its surface crowded with layers of weathered papers, the ink smudged but the purpose clear. Gathered around this board, a throng of individuals known as Hunters perused the postings with intense focus. The air was thick with the hum of anticipation and the scent of worn leather and sharpened steel.

Nearby, the local smith hammered away, coaxing life into the metal that would soon dance with death. Children ran carelessly in the streets, their laughter providing a counter melody to the otherwise somber tune that seemed to resonate off the stones themselves. Market vendors hawked their wares with an added fervor, perhaps hoping the promise of a sturdy rope or a healing tonic might sway a Hunter's chance at survival within those accursed realms.

Among the Hunters, conversation ebbed and flowed like the tide, a rhythmic dance of concerns and bravado.

"The Hunter's Circle isn't messing around this time; they're offering double for anything brought back from those blasted doors. Seen the latest one that sprouted up by Miller's farm?" A grizzled man pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders as he spoke, his gaze locked onto the makeshift missives before him.

"I heard about that," a woman with fiery hair and a bow strung across her back replied, her voice tinged with the kind of excitement that only the scent of a new challenge could bring. "They say whatever's lurking inside has the entire farm blackened with soot. I'm game if you are."

A young man with more scars than years standing slightly apart from the others, clutching a worn-out map and a dagger that had seen better days, muttered more to himself than to the rest, "I just got back on my feet from the last one. But the gold's good... and my sister needs that medicine. Maybe one more quick run wouldn't hurt."

The Hunters surveyed the unassuming postings, none boldly declaring the doom lurking behind those who dared to accept them. Through the murmurs and the soft clinks of armor, snippets of thought and strategy wove through the air:

"Anyone know if those fire-resistant potions are just a load of hogwash the merchants are pushing, or do they actually work against those flame-spitters?"

"I'd never rely on just a potion. Better to make sure your gear is up to snuff. I heard Patterson the leatherworker has been working on some new kind of hell-beast-resistant armor."

Pausing for a moment, a stone-faced woman with eyes the color of polished steel surveyed her fellow Hunters. She spoke up, her voice cutting through the chatter like a blade through silk, "It's not the gold or the glory that frightens these creatures back to their pits; it's our will. The Circle might be pulling the strings, but we're the ones standing when the dust settles. Let's choose wisely."

And with that, the Hunters began to form into groups, some with longtime comrades, others with strangers whose worth would be measured in the fires of battle and the unity forged within the relentless challenge of the Hell Doors. Nods were exchanged, hands were shaken, and one by one, the Hunters peeled away from the board, their fates clutched in the grips of their own determination and the unyielding hope that they might return to see another sunrise over the town of Endergrove.

"They're coming..they're coming!"

How to be a side character 101:

1.Have a unique name that fits the medieval setting.

2. Develop a personal backstory that explains their current situation.

3. Create a distinct appearance (clothing, armor, weapons, etc.).

4. Give them a unique mannerism or catchphrase.

5. Assign them a specific role within the story (e.g., the hero's squire).

6. Let them have their own goals and aspirations.

7. Make sure their presence influences the plot in some way-.

Jjenn scoffed to himself, "-Nooooo no no all those didn't even work with the last party! The last time, I shapeshifted into a body-less knight whose goal was to gain a new body by the power of friendship! And then right after, they abandoned me because I accidentally injured one of the party members with the big sword I was carrying after I was playing the 'heroic loud side character' part too much, acting all stoic and warrior-like, and they saw me as a traitor when I got carried away playing the part too much. I tried to convince them that was an accident, but they didn't listen. I need a new persona, a new trope this time."

Jjenn paced back and forth in the tavern, as the people around him that were damn near drunk or not drunk was peering at his anxious steps. He had wavy black hair, and his eyes were glowing orange and red, and he was wearing leather armor on his body with a saddle bag strapped across his chest.

Those people were sitting and talking, laughing with another and taking a few shots of mead down their system, or instigating Jjinn's

"He's been talking to himself for an hour.."

"Is he waiting for someone?"

"Some kind of hunters party that's going through a hell door today, taking up one of those quests out there on the board."

"Is it still being surrounded by a million hunters?"

"Just about, yeah. The rewards for clearing a hell door is insane. The Hunters Circle can truly be generous sometimes. Pay em' the right price."

"Um..Where did that brat go-.?"

Jjenn was sitting criss cross on top of their table, asking, "Hey I need your help-."

"AGHHH!" The two men ran off and rushed away in fear.

Jjenn sighed, "Damn, I just wanted some tips on what I should become next. Or maybe I shouldn't be too loud about it..wait..that's it!"

'I know what I'll be this time. This will definitely be fail-proof. I'm so damn smart.'

The Hooded Hare, Endergroves most reputable tavern, swathed in the musky scent of roasted boar and spilled ale, played host to a particular gathering on this night. The renowned party known locally as Ember's Blaze, a trio at the core with a few seasoned Hunters to round out their ranks made their way into the dimly lit establishment. The tavern was a hub of sorts, a place teeming with tales of valor, a crossroads for those who dared to dance with death at every new door.

At the lead was Aric, his tunic a vibrant scarlet as if woven from the very embers he could command at will. His eyes were a piercing azure, mirroring the flame's heart, and his confidence burned just as intensely.

Following him was the ever-calculating Navarre, cloaked in deep midnight blues. His hair, the color of dusk's last light, was tied back, signaling his readiness for both thought and action.

Bringing a serene balance to this duo was the gentle healer Liora. Her hair, a cascade of golden waves, framed a face marked by a pacifying grace. Adorned in robes of soft emerald, she walked with the assurance that only one with her restorative talents could harbor.

As the door of the tavern closed behind them, the murmurs of the room seemed to ebb, replaced by conspiring whispers as Ember's Blaze made their way to their usual corner. The air tinged with apprehension, the group settled around a worn wooden table, its surface scarred with tales of a thousand discussions before.

Aric began, his hand hammering the table for emphasis, "Whoever this navigator is, they'd better know their way around more than just a map. If they can guide us through a Hell Door without getting singed, I want to see it to believe it."

Navarre stroked his chin thoughtfully, his words measured, "We've had our share of charlatans and swindlers. This one claims to know pathways that we haven't heard of. Curiosity tugs at me, but so does caution. The depths of those doors are no place for false promises."

With a reassuring smile, Liora interjected, her voice a soothing melody amongst the clatter of tankards and the crackling hearth. "Let's not judge too swiftly. He—or she—might have knowledge we can benefit from. Their anonymity does lend an air of mystery..."

By the bar, an old man couldn't help but drop his two coppers into the conversation as he handed them a round of drinks. "I've seen my fair share of Hunters coming in claiming to have the keys to kingdom. But I'll tell ya, the smart ones are the ones who don't underestimate anything, anonymous tips included."

Each member of Ember's Blaze exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of skepticism and intrigue. A few others at the table, bound by previous ventures and common goals, murmured their thoughts.

"A navigator with a keen sense for the Hell Doors could mean less trouble. Could be a rogue, someone who's slipped in and out undetected," mused Taryn, a shadowy figure whose specialty lay in the silent strike.

From the dimly lit corner of The Hooded Hare tavern, a figure emerged, deliberate in his steps and cloaked in an air of palpable intrigue. Shadows clung to him like a second skin, accentuating the stark contrast of his attire. Red and black intertwined across his Shinobi-esque outfit that spoke of a life spent in both the thrill of daylight and the embrace of night.

It was Jjenn, thinking, 'I'll be the silent edgy side character. I'll do my best to try and surpass the leader of this guild who seems to be the main character, but even though I have the power to surpass him and even destroy this entire realm, I'll fall behind purposely, haha! I have the power to shapeshift into anything I think of and use the abilities that come with it, and I'm also immortal. Even though I'm only 19 in years. But, I'll be super mysterious and I'll conjure up two swords as my weapons.'

Jjenn's garb whispered tales of clandestine exploits: red like the blood of foes long vanquished, black as the deep void where secrets slumber. Bands of red coiled around his forearms, akin to the silent serpents that herald his deadly grace, while darkness hugged the remainder of his arm, culminating in gloves that promised both stealth and surety of grip. His legs were clad similarly, with leggings that vanished into boots soundless as the shadows they tread. He created those from his own shapeshifting magic.

'Be super dramatic…Jjenn. But also give the main character, which seems to be the guy in the middle with the scarlet tunic, a cold glare, making him my rival like the edgy side characters do all the time. It's perfect! I can't fail!' Jjenn thought while rubbing his hands together.

People were looking at him, saying:

"Is it okay?"

"He looks like he's conjuring up an evil plan or something."

Silent but for the softest sound of cloth brushing cloth, Jjenn stood with his arms folded across his chest, observing the gathering of Ember's Blaze and their companions. His presence was the embodiment of a lurking predator: patient, unyielding, and potent.

An ornate mask, half obsidian black, half crimson nightmare, obscured his features. Only his eyes were visible—piercing, glowing, analyzing, missing nothing—eyes that had likely seen the unspeakable horrors beyond the storied Hell Doors.

At last, Jjenn spoke, his voice low and even-rhythmed, betraying no interest or emotion. It was as if the night itself had decided to converse with the living.

"I commend your caution and your valor, Ember's Blaze. A fool is he who rushes into darkness, blinded by his own eagerness." His tone was matter-of-fact, offering neither praise nor insult. "You seek a navigator, and here I stand. I have traversed paths untrodden and returned when others have fallen. My knowledge of the Hell Doors can be yours... for a price."

Aric eyed Jjenn, his skepticism a living flame ready to ignite. "Eloquent and bold. You have our ears, shadow-walker, but you'll need to do more than dance with words to convince us. What guarantees do we have that you're not leading us to our doom?"

Jjenn's head tilted ever so slightly, akin to a raptor sighting its prey. "Guarantees are the fantasies of children and fools. I offer my skills, nothing more. The perils within the Hell Doors are beyond any man's control. If my terms are unsatisfactory, seek your fortunes elsewhere. The choice is yours, Ember's Blaze."

Navarre asked, "Before we decide, could we know the name of the one who stands before us, offering such... unique services?"

Jjenn smirked under his half mask, "Names are for invalid as we are about to walk into certain death. But if you must know..call me Kage."

As Liora looked on, a thoughtful tranquility in her gaze, Jjenn unfolded his arms, his stance unwavering, a silent testament to his seriousness. Within the walls of The Hooded Hare, amidst the gathering of warriors both seasoned and bold, a pact wavered on the edge of silence, its potential to change their fates resting upon the words yet unspoken.

Liora smiled, "I love that name, welcome to the party. Hopefully this won't be our last time working together, Kage!"

Jjenn ignored her, walking past her, saying, "Tch. Times being wasted with formalities, let's go."

'HAAAHA! This is perfect. I'm a way better actor than I thought.'

As dawn's early rays stretched over the land of Endergrove, the motley band of Ember's Blaze, now guided by Jjenn, rode out from The Hooded Hare. Their steeds—a mix of robust warhorses and agile couriers—carried them toward the fabled Hell Door, each hoofbeat a solemn drumbeat marking their journey through the realm.

The day was young, but the world of Endergrove was alive with the harmony of medieval life. The aroma of freshly tilled earth mingled with the distant scent of burning oak from village forges. Farmsteads rolled by, where the earth was turned over by plowshares, and the air was filled with the sound of clucking hens and the bleats of goats calling to their young.

As they passed by the bustling hamlets, the rustic scent of baked bread and savory stews spilled from open windows, wrestling with the less appealing but equally vital smells of livestock and manure. At the markets, merchants hawked their wares, shouting over one another to sell exotic spices that tickled the nose with sharp, unfamiliar fragrances.

Traveling along the Kingsroad that wove through Endergrove like the thread of fate, they observed knights in gleaming armor patrolling the lands, their solemn oaths to protect the realm as unyielding as the steel they bore. Occasionally, a shout would rise over the horizon as a knight's challenge was accepted, the clash of metal on metal a testament to their prowess and dedication.

The countryside unveiled its diversity, from the Whispering Woods, where tales spoke of spirits and trees that conversed in rustling tones, to the treacherous Silverpeak Mountains veiled in the mists of enigma. Born of legend, it was said that dragons had nested in those peaks long ago, leaving behind only whispers and the occasional scale glinting in the sun.

Beasts of burden pulled carts laden with goods while peddlers on foot recounted stories of distant lands and peddled trinkets and talismans, their enchantments guaranteed to ward off evil—or so the stories went. A caravan of exotic performers journeyed to the next festival, their colorful wagons adorned with symbols of their craft: masks, ribbons, and painted faces on wood that promised laughter and amazement.

Mystical creatures were not an uncommon sight. A gryphon soared above, its majestic form casting a fleeting shadow over the travelers, likely on the hunt or tending to its young nested atop craggy cliffs. In the creeks, water nymphs could occasionally be glimpsed, their laughter like the tinkling of tiny bells, fleeting and hidden just beneath the surface of the babbling brooks.

Beyond, the rolling hills gave way to wilder lands. Towering, twisted brambles marked the entrance to the Thronewood, a forest rumored to be home to ancient magics and reclusive fae, their shimmering lights sometimes visible from the road when the veil between worlds grew thin.

Through the lands of Endergrove, their passage was marked by a tapestry of sounds and sights: the distant roar of a beast in the untamed wilds, the melodic cadence of a troubadour's song rolling over the hills, or the soft murmur of a stream carving its way through the land. It was a realm of constant surprise, where the mundane lived side by side with wonders yet to be revealed.

As the shadow of the Hell Door loomed closer, a sense of foreboding fell upon the company. This gateway, like a scar upon the land, promised them the adventure and peril they sought. And with each step closer, reality seemed to weave itself into the threads of legend, and Ember's Blaze, along with Jjenn ventured forward, into the embrace of destiny's unknown designs.

Beneath the grandeur of ancient oaks lining the ever-winding path to the Hell Door, the members of Ember's Blaze exchanged furtive whispers, their voices hushed lest Kage's keen senses overhear their councils.

Liora nudged her horse closer to Navarre's, her words a faint breath in the morning chill. "What think you of Kage? His demeanor bespeaks secrets—layers upon layers wrapped in shadow," she murmured.

"Aye, he is a mystery wrapped in an enigma," Navarre replied, his hand idly stroking the mane of his steed. "But in this land of myths and murmurs, who is not? I trust his blade, and that is what matters—for now."

Aric joined in sotto voce, his eyes never straying from the Shinobi's poised silhouette at the head of their group. "His presence disturbs me. Silent as a grave, and likely just as deadly. But we've faced worse and come out alive... or mostly, at least."

"Certainly, he holds his cards close. I chanced to see an inscription on his blade while he mounted his horse—an ancient dialect unknown to these parts. He's no ordinary wanderer,"

"Do not let your guard down," advised Aric, a proven warrior whose scars spoke of many battles. "No matter his skills, he is still an outsider. Our unity has been our shield in the past."

Their musings turned, as inevitably they must, toward the Hell Door itself. The place that loomed over them, drawing closer with each heartbeat, weighed heavy on their spirits.

"It's said the Hell Door arose from the War of Ancients," Navarre subdued tones were tinged with a scholar's eagerness. "A cataclysm from a time when the realms of Hell and the kingdoms of the surface clashed in a fury the world had not seen before or since."

Liora nodded thoughtfully. "Kingdoms far and wide whisper of that war—how the Immortals and the Elves fought side by side with the Paladins against the infernal host. But none can tell why the war was waged or what truly ended it."

"And those same whispers hint at treasures and dangers beyond imagination, sealed within the very walls of the Hell Door… Or so the tavern tales go," Navarre added with a wry smile that did not reach his eyes"

"Tavern tales or no, there's never been smoke without fire. It's our trade to seek out the fire and the fortunes it holds I guess."

Aric's gaze was hard, the grin of a man who cut his teeth on a hundred battles. "Fortunes or fables, we'll face what lies beyond together—as Ember's Blaze always has. Let's just hope our new guide doesn't become our end."

Their whispered dialogue was swept away by the wind that rustled through the trees, carrying with it the scents of pine and earth. Through orchards laden with fruit, past moors where wildflowers danced to the song of the wind, and across the cobblestone bridges spanning azure rivers, they edged toward their enigmatic destination.

Jjenn heard them, thinking, '..Yeah. The War of the Ancients. I was in that war, as an Immortal, teaming with the Elves and the Paladins to fight Hell. And actually, I didn't know anything of the war until it started, because my parents tried to keep me locked up away from everyone, because they feared those ugly ass demons would try and get me. But now that the war happened and I managed to break free from where I was trapped in, I helped fight, but a flash of light burnt out, and I was on the ground, and everyone was gone. So like, I'm basically a side character because..I don't want to draw too much attention to myself. Because what if whoever's possibly wanting me ends up finding me? And where did everyone go? Me being all alone out there on that battlefield, it was so DUMB. Anyway, I came here to not cause too much attention, and to find out what happened. These Hell Doors..I don't know much about them, but I know where they came from and what's inside: A devilish domain overseen by a demon monarch, powerful beings. If they are killed, the domain is destroyed. I've been with 7 parties so far, taking on a different trope and persona for each, shapeshifting with new forms and new personalities and new powers I've made for myself, and they ALL ENDED UP HORRIBLY WRONG, which means I need to DEFINITELY step up my character acting, and fast!'

The path of the Ember's Blaze took a definitive turn, guiding them toward a vast expanse where the vibrant greens of the Endergrove fields yielded to a stark emptiness. Here, amidst the sprawling openness, stood the Hell Door—a lone relic of a long-forgotten era. It was an imposing structure wrought from some dark, indecipherable material that seemed to drink in the light of day.

The air grew dense as they approached, as if an unseen energy leeched the very essence of the surroundings. It was a spiritual heaviness that bore down upon them, a malaise that seemed to gnaw at the edges of their courage.

Jjenn remained ahead, a solitary figure against the backdrop of the eerie portal. His stride revealed no trepidation in spite of the oppressive atmosphere that suffocated the mirth from nature's breast. He stood in stark contrast to the rest of the guild, who were acutely aware of the invisible shroud that grew thicker with each step toward the Hell Door.

Aric wiped the perspiration from his brow, his lips set in a grim line. "This is no mere gate," he spoke softly, his gaze fixed on the ominous structure. "It's as if the air itself is a blockade, charging the very ground with dread."

"And yet, look at Kage," Liora whispered, half in awe, half with a tremor of unease. "E's as calm as a still pond. Not a ripple to betray any fear—or anything at all."

Navarre exhaled shakily, glancing at the Hell Door and then back at their enigmatic guide. "Unmoving as the stones at Thrakkar's End. Does nothing touch that soul of hsu, I wonder? Is he hollow or something, or has he seen such sights that this... this abomination no longer disturbs him?"

"You see that, don't you?" Aric chimed in, a hint of respect threading his wary tone. "How the darkness at the arch's heart pulsates—like a heart beating in anticipation. It knows we're here, and yet Kage stands unwavering."

Liora shivered at Aric's words, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. "It's as if the door sees into your soul, sifting through your fears and desires. If Kage feels that gaze, he gives no sign of it."

Navarre nodded, his eyes remaining fixed on the silhouette of Kage standing before the Hell Door. "Perhaps that's what terrifies me most, Liora. The unknown is always daunting. But to confront the unknown with one who seems so unaffected by it all... it makes you question what lies beneath the surface."

The Hell Door loomed closer still, its aura now tangible, the silence around it palpable, broken only by the rustle of uneasy steeds and the harsh, swallow breaths of mortals who dared tread where the fabric of reality threatened to fray. Jjenn stood before it—a sentinel defying the suffocating air of foreboding, inviting Ember's Blaze to discover what truths or horrors lay beyond the threshold of the ancient War of Ancients.

Jjenn hopped off his horse, saying, "Hmph. This is nothing. Let's go. I suspect the leader here will be the one with all the power, right? If so, I must surpass you soon. I'm not that strong, but I can feel your power, it's immense."

Aric nodded, "Yeah that would be me, guy. I was blessed by the monarch of Dragons, with my fire magic, it's practically unbeatable…"

"Hmph. Fool. No need to brag now. Let's see if you are who they say you are."

'Actually, I have no clue what they say about him, I'm just making stuff up as I go!'