Sir Osis
“What is the price you are asking?”
Sir Osis figured that if he had the funds there was no point in continuing to suffer like he was. The man born before the mountains chuckled to himself before replying, “For what it is, a bargain. A copper coin should do you just nicely.”
The transaction was made, and the peddler tipped his hat. “A pleasant journey to you, sir,” he said before hoisting his pack back onto his back.
When Sir Osis received the bottle, he was surprised to see it engraved with some sort of markings. He was not sure what they were, but they looked to him almost like of some sort of script. “Allow me to inquire as to…” he started before trailing off when he realized that he could no longer see the man who had watched the rivers form in his youth. He questioned his sight for a moment before deciding that a ridge had hidden the peddler from view. Then his body ordered his mind to pay attention to the elixir before them. He removed the stopper, being sure to save it in his pocket for later, and held his breath before bringing the mouth of the bottle to his lips. It was to his surprise that the medicine tasted nothing of the wretched concoctions he had been forced to take when sick as a child. It had a strong smell that burned his nostrils slightly, but the flavor was sweet. He took three good draughts of the viscous substance before wiping his mouth. He was no longer in pain, but something else had happened. Overcome by dizziness, Sir Osis dismounted and curled up on the side of the road—feeling unable to go any farther. Then he felt consciousness slip away.
Sir Osis awoke to an overwhelming floral smell. With no hesitation, he jumped up and drew his sword, fearing the worst. However, all he was greeted with was a woman in very strange dress making a rather pissed-off expression. She quickly backed away when he drew his sword but her demeaner became no more pleasant than before. In fact, she began to yell at him in a strange language he had never heard anything like before. Sir Osis sheathed his sword and bowed slightly. “I am afraid that I never did learn any of that Russian. You are Russian?” He had no idea what this strange woman was, but Russian was a very good guess, he thought.
When Sir Osis had sheathed his sword, the woman calmed down considerably, yet she was not any more favorable to Sir Osis’s presence in her sight than before, and Sir Osis learned that “Get the hell out of my place” was the same in many languages that day. As relieved as he was that he did not appear to have been enslaved, he was not pleased in the least with this situation. Out on the street, he could here that everybody seemed to speak whatever that woman had been screaming, they all had the same strange look about them, and they all wore those strange clothes. Strangest of all however was that now and then someone would pass by who appeared to be blue. Now, the interplay of light and shadow can have strange effects on the visual perception of man, but no shadow followed around individuals throughout their days, the color of a sunny sky in September all the while. That’s right. There were no tricks being played. Some of those people were blue. Now, whether it was natural pigmentation or it was a paint was a mystery to the knight, but either way, it was quite visually shocking, and pondering it distracted him from the strange situation he was in…for a time.
It was five minutes before Sir Osis looked around and came to the full realization that he was certainly not anywhere near home anymore, and he had no idea how he got there or by what transportation he should return. This was fine. He could handle this. He took a deep breath to calm himself and let it out along with a profane deluge. This did not make him feel any more cheerful, but now he could consider his situation with a clearer mind. The clearer mind told him to skedaddle before whatever had brought him to this place came back. As he wandered, he realized that the city he was in was much larger than anything he had been near before and not a single person was speaking his language. He tried to wake up or to change his surroundings, but If this was a dream, he had no control over it. As the sun hung low, he came to the edge of the city and looked out at the landscape before him. The fields and jungle before him were like nothing he had ever before seen.
Sir Osis figured that if he had the funds there was no point in continuing to suffer like he was. The man born before the mountains chuckled to himself before replying, “For what it is, a bargain. A copper coin should do you just nicely.”
The transaction was made, and the peddler tipped his hat. “A pleasant journey to you, sir,” he said before hoisting his pack back onto his back.
When Sir Osis received the bottle, he was surprised to see it engraved with some sort of markings. He was not sure what they were, but they looked to him almost like of some sort of script. “Allow me to inquire as to…” he started before trailing off when he realized that he could no longer see the man who had watched the rivers form in his youth. He questioned his sight for a moment before deciding that a ridge had hidden the peddler from view. Then his body ordered his mind to pay attention to the elixir before them. He removed the stopper, being sure to save it in his pocket for later, and held his breath before bringing the mouth of the bottle to his lips. It was to his surprise that the medicine tasted nothing of the wretched concoctions he had been forced to take when sick as a child. It had a strong smell that burned his nostrils slightly, but the flavor was sweet. He took three good draughts of the viscous substance before wiping his mouth. He was no longer in pain, but something else had happened. Overcome by dizziness, Sir Osis dismounted and curled up on the side of the road—feeling unable to go any farther. Then he felt consciousness slip away.
Sir Osis awoke to an overwhelming floral smell. With no hesitation, he jumped up and drew his sword, fearing the worst. However, all he was greeted with was a woman in very strange dress making a rather pissed-off expression. She quickly backed away when he drew his sword but her demeaner became no more pleasant than before. In fact, she began to yell at him in a strange language he had never heard anything like before. Sir Osis sheathed his sword and bowed slightly. “I am afraid that I never did learn any of that Russian. You are Russian?” He had no idea what this strange woman was, but Russian was a very good guess, he thought.
When Sir Osis had sheathed his sword, the woman calmed down considerably, yet she was not any more favorable to Sir Osis’s presence in her sight than before, and Sir Osis learned that “Get the hell out of my place” was the same in many languages that day. As relieved as he was that he did not appear to have been enslaved, he was not pleased in the least with this situation. Out on the street, he could here that everybody seemed to speak whatever that woman had been screaming, they all had the same strange look about them, and they all wore those strange clothes. Strangest of all however was that now and then someone would pass by who appeared to be blue. Now, the interplay of light and shadow can have strange effects on the visual perception of man, but no shadow followed around individuals throughout their days, the color of a sunny sky in September all the while. That’s right. There were no tricks being played. Some of those people were blue. Now, whether it was natural pigmentation or it was a paint was a mystery to the knight, but either way, it was quite visually shocking, and pondering it distracted him from the strange situation he was in…for a time.
It was five minutes before Sir Osis looked around and came to the full realization that he was certainly not anywhere near home anymore, and he had no idea how he got there or by what transportation he should return. This was fine. He could handle this. He took a deep breath to calm himself and let it out along with a profane deluge. This did not make him feel any more cheerful, but now he could consider his situation with a clearer mind. The clearer mind told him to skedaddle before whatever had brought him to this place came back. As he wandered, he realized that the city he was in was much larger than anything he had been near before and not a single person was speaking his language. He tried to wake up or to change his surroundings, but If this was a dream, he had no control over it. As the sun hung low, he came to the edge of the city and looked out at the landscape before him. The fields and jungle before him were like nothing he had ever before seen.