Hello. My name is Eric Johnson. What I am about to tell you is a story, a fiction; none of it is true. At least, that's what I wish I could tell you. Six months ago, if you told me where I'd be today, I would have spent the rest of the day doubled over laughing. Six months ago, I was a normal, sixteen year old guy. Six months ago, my only problems were girls and getting my school work in on time. You know, normal male teenager stuff. I wouldn't have given a second thought to battling giant killer death wolves, meeting a god that could bring goats back to life, or traversing dangerous mountain slopes with a bunch of skiing ice giants. Hang on, hang on, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's start at the beginning.
It was a wintery Thursday sometime in late November, and I was on a school trip to London Zoo with one Austen's Academy for Young Minds. It was being led by Doctor Carlton, the dullest teacher at Austen's. Lessons with him seemed to stretch out into the ages as he droned on and on about topics like 'electrostatic precipitation' and 'biochemical fan belts'. We were meant to be looking at the different animals and making sketches and notes, which should have been pretty cool, but Carlton managed to make it as boring as his lessons. The cold wind blew a chill through my entire body as we moved from exhibit to exhibit, listening to Dr Carlton make each new exiting creature sound as dull as a common garden field mouse or squirrel. My best friend Kaelyn walked beside me, leaving light footprints in the snow that covered the zoo's grounds. Hold it, that's best friend, not girlfriend, although I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought of her that way. She was pretty, with a slight frame and long blonde hair that streamed down to her hips. Faint freckles lightly dotted her cheeks and, in the harsh winter's light, her bright blue eyes shone like glittering sapphires. Fine, fine, I'd thought of her that way more than once! Anyway, when we got to the wolf exhibit, however, I perked up a bit; not even Carlton could make wolves dull. The zoo had a pack of six or seven of the magnificent beasts, and they prowled around their enclosure like a group of assassins in the shadows, quietly snarling to each other as if they were making some elaborate plan to leap out and savage a few visitors. After a few minutes, I heard an "All right, moving on!" from Carlton and the others began to start off to the next exhibit, but I hung back to watch for a little while longer. As I leaned against the fence, out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of a figure walking towards the gate that led into the the wolves' exhibit. He seemed to be dressed in some kind of armor, with a horned helmet, wicked looking shoulder pads, and a massive battle axe strapped to his back. I rubbed my eyes in surprise; surely that wasn't right. Indeed, when I looked again, the figure was wearing a standard zoo keeper uniform, but it seemed to flicker in the harsh light as if it wasn't altogether there. As I watched, he slid the key into the chain-link gate and clicked it open, moving through into the exhibit interior. The gate swung in the wind behind him, clanging against the mesh of the fence; had he forgotten to lock it? I decided to go and call him back. It would be a massive understatement to say I wasn't prepared for what greeted me as I looked into the open gate. Seven pairs of wild, bloodthirsty eyes looked up into mine, burning with primeval rage and hatred. The "zoo keeper" stood behind them, laughing like a maniac. I began to back away slowly, but the man spoke, still cackling like he was on day release from a mental hospital. "Eric Johnson, it's time to die! Drepa!"
The final word sounded harsh and foreign, but somehow I understood its meaning: kill. Before my eyes, the wolves began to grow. From the size of large dogs, to lions, to small cars, they kept on growing, larger and larger. After a few seconds, seven wolves the size of rhinos were snarling in front of me, their poweful muscles rippling under their shaggy black fur. I could smell rotten meat and sulphur on their breath as they bared their immense jaws, filled with teeth which were each as long as my forearm and as sharp as sword blades. Without warning, the largest beast lept toward me, jaws agape, but I quickly ducked and the creature sailed over my head, crashing into a nearby bench and reducing it to kindlewood. As it got up and began to shake bits of splintered wood out of its fur, the rest of the wolf pack began to advance, assuming wolf was still the right word for these .. things. I started to turn, but their piercing stares seemed to lock my legs in place, frozen in silent terror. In a matter of moments, I would be wolf food, and there was nothing I could do about it. Just as I had abandoned all hope, a voice rang out behind me. "Hey, dogbreaths! Want a real fight?" Turning, I saw a girl with blond hair dressed in another suit of battle armor, complete with winged helmet, a light wooden shield, and a wicked looking spear. Standing next to her was an old man dressed in a set of ancient, frayed looking robes and leaning on a gnarled wooden stave. The wolves turned their attention to these newcomers with anticipating slobbers; undoubtedly they were seeing a new main course with me being sidelined till dessert. They lept forward with howls of savagery, but the two figures were far more prepared than I had been. Almost lazily, the old man clicked his fingers and reduced one of the beasts to a pile of smoldering ashes. The girl met the charge of another wolf, knocking it to the ground with her shield and impaling its flank with her long spear. A barrage of thoughts began to run through my head. Who were these people? How did they know about these monsters? And more importantly, where could I learn that fire trick? The other beasts began to back off, whimpering like frightened puppies, but this time there would be no lucky escapes. One looked down to find a spear between its front legs, and the others were fried by a massive thunder strike that made the surrounding air crackle with extreme power. That was the last thing I remembered before passing out, face down in the ice-cold snow. It was going to be a long afternoon.
