Erebos by Ursula Poznanski Read Free Book Online

grass.
    The crooked door of the tower banged loudly against the wall and the figure, still in ragged clothes, stretched and stood up. He put a hand up to his face and removed it like a mask. Behind it there was nothing but smooth skin, bare as an eggshell.
    Another gust of wind unfurled the flag that was mounted at the top of the tower. It showed a faded number one.
    This was the way to the first level, Nick assumed, and steered his figure, whose missing face unsettled him more than he wanted to admit, to the tower.

    Inside everything is quiet, even the wind is silent, the gate is no longer banging. Among straw and scattered bones stand wooden chests with rusty clasps. Copper tablets on the wall gleam; there are words carved into them. The first word is always the same: Choose.
    He inspects the tablets in order.
    â€˜Choose a gender,’ the first demands.
    Without hesitating he chooses the man. Only after his decision does it occur to him that playing as a women could have a certain appeal. Doesn’t matter – it’s too late.
    â€˜Choose a race,’ he reads on the tablet.
    Here he pauses for longer. Rejects the barbarian and the vampire, although he slips their bodies on to try them out; at the sight of the barbarian’s shoulder muscles, gleaming with oil, he grimaces. He considers the lizard man for a few minutes – his body scales shimmer so seductively, changing colour in different lights. The human species is an option too, but it’s not worth considering. Too everyday. Too weak.
    Dwarf, werewolf, cat person or dark elf – these last four options are all tempting. He tries the dwarf body on: small, gnarled and strong. Not bad – the small stature appeals to him; the crooked legs and the pinched facial expression less so.
    In the end he decides on the dark elf. Medium height, but agile, elegant and mysterious. His decision is acknowledged. ‘Choose your appearance,’ the third copper tablet demands.
    He wants to resemble his real self as little as possible. So: short blond hair that sticks up from his head in spikes, a pointy nose and narrow grey eyes. He contemplates his newly created character, who no longer bears any resemblance to Nameless. Carefully he chooses clothing: a gold-green jacket, dark trousers, bucket-top boots. A leather cap that will be better protection than nothing, although he would have preferred a helmet. Unfortunately they’re not available to dark elves.
    He does some more work on his facial features – enlarges the eyes and the distance between the mouth and nose. Raises the eyebrows. Makes the cheekbones more pronounced and thinks that he looks like a king’s lost son.
    â€˜Choose a vocation,’ it says on the fourth tablet.
    Assassin, bard, mage, hunter, scout, guard, knight, thief. Ample choice. The advantages of each and every class are explained to him. He learns that werewolves make particularly good mages, whereas vampires have a talent as assassins, and also as thieves. Dark elves too, like himself, make good thieves.
    He hesitates. And jumps when the hinges of the door suddenly creak. It swings open and someone enters the tower. A deformed shadow. A gnome with a hunched back and crooked legs, a red, bulbous nose and a dark blue growth on his neck. He hobbles closer, sits astride one of the chests and licks his lips.
    â€˜Another dark elf, well well. A popular species, so it seems.’
    â€˜Really?’
    That doesn’t please the new-fledged dark elf. He doesn’t want to be one of many.
    â€˜Indeed. Have you already decided on a profession?’
    He looks at the list.
    â€˜Maybe a thief or a guard. Or possibly a knight.’
    â€˜How about the mage? They’re powerful, they’ve got the gift of magic.’
    He mulls over this possibility briefly before he rules it out. He’s not in the mood for witchcraft, he’s in the mood for sword-fighting. ‘No, not a mage. A