When my human friend, Ted, offered me to join him on his vacation I had never imagined that I would end up in a situation like this.
Well, before I get started, I believe introductions are in order.
My name is Khal’Xethin, and I was stupid enough to get myself into a position where death is a mere arm’s length away.
We were supposed to make a short trip with a water-borne vessel that Ted owned, out to an island a few hours from shore.
In the second hour of the journey, long after the last of the minor islands had dissappeared over the horizon, the wind started to pick up, and the clouds grew dark an ominous above our heads.
Now, I cling to the pitiful boat as we’re tossed back and forth by the hard, uncaring sea. Waves that are easily taller than the sides of the craft in which we have placed our very lives roll over the sea, and lightning provides our only illumination.
Ted is roaring, clinging onto the rudder of the craft as the waves spray water on us, soaking my garments and chilling me to the bones.
I can see my friend howling with- wait.
Is he laughing?!
He must have been driven mad with fear, as I was in danger of doing as well!
The worst part of our predicament is that the primitive vessel’s engine seems to have died as well, forcing us to rely on some sort of crude back-up propulsion system made out of a single huge cloth.
The vessel was tilting dangerously, and was sent rolling by another wave.
I crawl into a ball at the bottom of the boat and close my eyes.
I lay there whimpering as the human keeps laughing.
“Isn’t this awesome, Khal?! Look at the waves!”
I open an eye to look ay my friend, whose grinning face is illuminated by another streak of lightning.
“Why are you so gods damn happy?! We’re going to die out here! We’re never getting back without the engines! I cry, and the human laughs again.
“Relax, Khal! It’s just a little thunder. This yacht was made for the high seas. It’ll take more than a few baby-waves to put us in danger. Grab a beer and sit up, you’ll get seasick down there.”
A note to self: never accept an offer to go “sailing” by a human again.