Erutell: Game of Change & Chance - Prologue

Story Description:Nate is an intelligent college student in his early twenties who has an affinity for board games. One day, while exploring

Story Description:

Nate is an intelligent college student in his early twenties who has an affinity for board games. One day, while exploring the back of a dusty bookstore, he discovers an ancient-looking board game called ‘Erutell.’ Intrigued, he steals this forbidden tome, wanting to play it with his three other friends at their weekly game night. But little do they know that for each card drawn, changes both mental and physical will alter their destinies, and it will be a race to the finish line to see who, if anyone, will be able to win the right to turn back.

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Erutell: Prologue

The store was tucked away in the corner of a forgotten street in a ridden-down suburb. The street lamps faltered occasionally, and a low mist settled on the streets almost as soon as the sun had shone its last ray upon the town’s horizon. Haverton was the kind of town most people drove through to get to other, more interesting places. It had just one cinema, one mall, one elementary and high school each, and a college with a campus that held barely eight hundred students. Most people who went for degrees there had no desire to live elsewhere; otherwise, they would have gone to college elsewhere already. Still, the town had its charm; it backed against a largely untouched forest that reached up to the mountains, the kind of forest that generated all sorts of fun rumours and superstitions among the townsfolk. And the weather was perfect in summer and full of white snow in winter. And there was a closeness to the people, for the most part. Havertonians, as they called themselves, had little reason to bicker and fight, their population being too large for the close mindedness of rural types, and too big for the apathetic selfishness of big city types. The biggest problems in Haverton rarely extended beyond juvenile delinquency and the occasional neighbourly dispute. And, of course, Sheriff Knott’s rare but memorable drunken mishaps.

It was also just large enough of a town to hide away little stores that some never ever knew were there. That was part of the reason why Nate Portis stayed, for the little stores like this one. He was a promising student with a love of fantasy, science fiction, and all kinds of creative worlds, but in truth he aspired to little more than to write such stories himself in the town of his birth. You’d be surprised what kind of inspiration one could get, especially from tucked away prizes such as this.

Satler’s Antiques & Memorabilia

That was what the sign read. It was, technically, located below the street, with one of those sets of stairs that leads directly to a multi-story building’s basement from the side of the street. Nate knocked, saw that the sign said ‘Open’, and decided to go in.

“Hello, is this place open? I know it’s late.”

“We’re open, young man,” came a wearied, older voice.

There was a man with bedraggled grey hair who sat not behind the counter, but was currently perched on what appeared to be a rickety wooden stool, fixing up a display of carved wooden soldiers. It was far from the only display in the store; the small business was positively cramped with antique toys, games, books, tomes, displays, posters, hanging ornaments, model trains, baseball cards, Christmas decorations, Halloween costumes, and so on and so forth. The air was musty and stale, as if the combined ages of all the items in the room had aged the building with it, and all those who entered. It was powerful on the senses, and the yellowed lighting only made it feel even older.

Somehow, it only made Nate even more famous.

“Wow, I’ve never known this place was here all my life, and I grew up here.”

The old man chuckled, stepping down from his stool and extending a hand. Nate shook it. “You’d be surprised, young man, how often people say that. Not that I get much business, but then I mainly run this store for fun, anyhow. Consider me an antique in charge of all the others.”

Nate chuckled. He liked this man.

“I’m Nate,” he replied, and he took another look around the area. You’d have to step carefully, just to avoid crashing into the various hanging model plans and lead-painted toy figurines. “This place sure is amazing. I love stuff like this.”

It made the old man grin. “That, I don’t hear as often. Some people don’t have an appreciation for nostalgia. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“I’m looking for games.”

“No videogames here, son. Don’t make me feel too old by claiming a videogame can be an antique!”

Nate grinned and shook his head. His brown hair tousled over his forehead, and he swept it away. He’d have to get it cut soon. “No, sorry, Mr . . . ahh . . .”

“Satler,” the old man said with a grin, scratching the stray hairs on his chin. “It’s on the door.”

“Ah, yes, Mr Satler. No, I’m more old school. A few friends and I, we do game nights together every week, sometimes more than once. We love board games, but we’ve played most of what’s out and we’re looking to change things up. I thought I’d surprise them with something older they hadn’t heard of, instead of something new.”

The old man rested a hand briefly on his shoulder. “Well then, it seems I’ve misjudged the youth of today. Here I thought you with your hoodie and jeans and no belt might not have the right kind of taste for this store. Glad to be proven wrong. Glad indeed. Let me show you around.”

Mr Satler did. Nate stared with wonder at the numerous astonishing piles of dust-covered tomes and toys and memorabilia. He couldn’t help but pick up several first edition copies of Space! comics, along with a signed hardback of Land of the Barbarian Kings, his favourite pulpy fantasy novel as a young teenager. It truly was a blast from the past to be here, and he stopped several times to ask Mr Satler about how he acquired it all, usually resulting in a long-winded story. It seemed the owner had a keen mind and memory for each item acquired.

Finally, they arrived at the board games section, and Nate took to perusing. Mr Satler hung back, allowing him to pour over forgotten early editions of Monopoly, numerous wargames, a proto-edition of something approaching Dungeons and Dragons, and a number of boardsets from other countries, some not even in English or missing their instructions. Mr Satler left him to do some rearranging, and Nate spent what felt like half an hour searching over. There was so much to interest him, but he had to keep his friends in mind: Gary would want something exciting, and Katy didn’t want anything cooperative, she was a ruthless competitor. He had to balance that with Jill’s more nerdy demeanour, especially since, well, he’d always had a bit of a crush on Jill. He wanted something that would appeal to her.

He was considering between two options, neither of which felt quite right, when the strange feeling occurred. It came from the back of the store, like an ancient sigh, or a soft hiss, without sound and yet echoing in his mind. Something was back there, and he wasn’t sure how he knew that, only that it was there, and it wanted to be found. He put the two games down, and stepped slowly towards the location where the strange sensation was coming from. It seemed almost soothed by his approach, and it made him curious as to whether this was merely instinct, his own intuition, or something . . . more.

The area at the back of the store was marked as For Staff Only, though it appeared Mr Satler was the only staff. Nate looked around, checked that he wasn’t being watched as the proprietor sorted through a stamp collection, and stepped through the door.

The forbidden zone was dark and dusty, far more than the stale customer area. It was a thin space, the shelves crammed with all manner of books, toys, ornaments, and games. But one in particular seemed to draw him forth, and he could see why. It was a large, heavy looking game set that was bound by two thick locks. It was coated in dust, more so than most of the other items there. The sigh increased in his mind, and Nate found himself wanting more than anything to see what it was. He pulled the locked tome from the rack, and dramatically blew the dust from its surface. There, inlaid in metal that stood from the leatherbound cover, was its title:

Erutell

“Erutell,” he repeated, and flipped the tome around. “Erutell, the Game of Chance and Change,” he read. “Brave adventurers and explorers, pioneers and trailblazers, must reach the end of the course. For each card drawn, the world of Erutell will come further to life, and bring wonders and dangers to be shared and overcome. Suits 4-6 players.”

Nate beamed. He didn’t know exactly what genre this game fell into, or what kind of game exactly it was, but something about it felt right. That strange compulsion, that odd call that brought him to it had died away, but it felt more than right anyway in his hands.

“What are you doing back here?” a crusty voice muttered.

Nate spun, the bound game in his hands. Mr Satler stood in the doorway, the light framing him like he was a giant blocking out the sun. It made the young man’s heart skip a beat.

“I was looking for games,” he said weakly.

The owner beckoned him forth and tapped at the top of the doorframe where it said For Staff Only. “Don’t they teach young people to read these days?”

“Oh, uh, sorry. I didn’t see that there.”

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t do it again. What’s back there isn’t for sale, okay? What were you looking for anyway . . .”

The man’s eyes froze as he saw the game in Nate’s hands. For a moment, there was something like horror in them. He snatched the book and carried it with alacrity to the front desk of the store.

“No, no, no! Not this one, never this one!”

Nate followed, confused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. Is it a family heirloom or something.”

Mr Satler turned, and suddenly he looked far older. Too old, almost. “One of the most terrible sort. Erutell is a curse, young man, though I doubt you’ll believe me. It carries with it - oh, never mind. It’s not meant to be played by human hands, nor can it be understood or have a place in mortal ken. I keep it safe back there.”

“I’m pretty responsible,” Nate replied, “I can give you fifty dollars for it. I promise I won’t destroy it or damage it.”

The man laughed, and it was a dry, wheezy laugh. “Destroy it, huh? If it could be destroyed, I would have done that some time ago. No, it is not for sale.”

“But -”

“Don’t press me on this, young man. You want to buy your comics, then you drop this argument now. Erutell is not a game, it is fae magic, or perhaps something beyond that. I won’t chance it, not after . . .”

His breathing slowed, and he stopped talking for a moment. Instead, he simply took the book and placed it behind the counter, and shrugged.

“Look, you seem like a good kid with a sensible head on his shoulders. I’ve got a few other games hid up on the shelf I can show you, and even give you a discount on. How about that?”

Nate was shocked at what had just transpired. “Uh, sure, yeah, that sounds good.”

The man grunted, glad to be done with the argument, but not in a rude way.

“I’ll just go get a taller ladder, ‘cause I’ll need it. Just wait here, I won’t be longer than two minutes.”

He walked away, opening a separate door and rifling audibly through what sounded like a full closet of equipment. A bead of sweat dripped down Nate’s forehead. The call was still there, distant despite the game’s closeness, but present all the same. The old man was probably a little crazy, or just did drugs or had a nasty break up over the game or something. That’s what had happened to Katy and Gary, and they were friends again now. This Mr Satler was just a little weird over it.

Slowly, Nate peered over the store counter, where the metal-embossed game sat, looking ancient and mysterious.

“I’ll return it right after games night,” he said to himself. “I’ll even apologise and pay him that fifty. I’m just . . . borrowing it.”

Slowly, carefully, cautiously, and yet with great daring, Nate reached and grabbed the heavy game set. He could have sworn, just for a moment, that it thrummed with power in his hands. He twisted his head to see if Mr Satler was coming out of his storeroom, crashing through to intercept him. But there was nothing, only more difficulty with the folding ladder behind a closed door.

With a slight grin, and more than a little helping of guilt, Nate backed out of the room, clutching Erutell against his chest. He backed into the cold night, where the mist had swelled to almost impossible thickness, and disappeared into the fog.

Tomorrow night, he would have a new game to play with his friends.

To Be Continued . . .

POLL QUESTION:

For this Jumanji-inspired story, I leave it to you guys to determine what genre the world of Erutell exists within. Choose from the options below, and let me know in the comments if there is a particular transformation (mental or physical) you would like to see accompanying your choice!