Dervish Sanders & The Hyperthemesiatic Recalling

Dervish Sanders: So, what's next? I'm thinking it might be time for another backstory? Maybe you'll tell me how the tiefing Char Umi from the prior tale came to be in the Garden of Respite? I actually am interested in hearing more about that.

The Biographer: You guessed right about the backstory, although what I have actually prepared is something new. I'm calling this one, "Dervish Sanders & The Hyperthemesiatic Recalling". If you look it up you'll find that "hyperthymesia syndrome is also known as Highly Superior Autobiographical Memory or HSAM. This is a rare condition characterized by an extraordinary ability to recall and retain autobiographical memories".

Dervish Sanders: That sounds interesting. As per your prior tale, Ayla expressed interest in hearing about my mother. Later you said that Ayla, Char and I talked for hours while at the visitor's cottage in the Garden of Respite. Could this narrative be my recounting of an event from my past in Englaland, as told by me during this hours long conversation?

The Biographer: Precisely. Your guess is spot on. What follows is the story, told exactly as it happened. Because you have an an extraordinary ability to recall autobiographical memories.

Dervish Sanders: Wow! I didn't know that about myself. So, I take it there will be no backstory for the tiefling character?

The Biographer: I can give you one if you wish. Following the Dervish Sanders backstory. Now, let me begin. As you surmised, this tale takes place in Englaland, which is where Dervish is originally from before he relocated to Mauretania several decades prior to the "present day". By which I mean the in-story timeline.

On a cool spring morning, as the sun climbed into the sky, a magpie alit outside Dervish's window and began to chirp. "Wake up", it seemed to cheep. This went on for some time, eventually rousing Dervish. Annoyed, he pulled the covers over his head, but the incessant chattering continued unabated.

Dervish threw back his blanket and went to his open window. He gazed about for the source of the ruckus before spotting the offending noisemaker in a nearby Kentish cobnut.

"The road ahead gleams bright and gold; a treasure lies where shadows fold", the magpie said in Birdspeak.

Dervish, having a passing familiarity with Birdspeak, was able to decipher the warbler's verbalizing.

"Say what?" he replied in rudimentary birdspeak.

The avian quickly jumped from one branch to another, its inky plumage shimmering like an obsidian jewel in the morning light. In a trice it turned and starred directly at the man in the window.

"Wealth consists not in having great possessions, but in having few wants", the black and white songbird counseled, a twinkle in one violet-blue iris.

"That is wise advice", Dervish replied in human speak. He listened some more and, though he didn't understand all of what the magpie piped, decided he had enough information to go on.

Despite having recently come into a large sum of money, Dervish decided to investigate this alleged treasure, if only for his amusement. Something about the magpie's words stirred a restless energy in him, too tempting to ignore.

Dervish washed his face in a basin on his nightstand, dressed, then departed his abode. His mother, father and sister were still asleep, so he trod lightly on the wood plank floor. Little did he know this would be the last time he would set foot in his family's home.

Dervish silently closed the door behind him and set out. The morning air was cold and crisp, the sky painted orange and gold as the new day dawned. Following the magpie's directions, Dervish set out from Waltham Abbey, heading east along a winding path that cut through rolling meadows and whispering hedgerows. A short while later Boudicca's Obelisk, rising solemnly from the forest's edge near Ambresbury Banks, came into view. Its timeworn surface seemed to echo with the distant voices of battle and rebellion, though Dervish gave it only a passing glance as he pressed onward into the wooded expanse.

Navigating the trails of Epping Forest, he headed southeast, a journey that brought him to Copt Hall. The grand manor emerged like a vision from behind clustered oaks, its stone façade radiating an air of authority. Yet Dervish regarded it less as a marvel of permanence and more as a fortress of privilege. He had it on good authority that the inhabitants wouldn't hesitate to run trespassing peasants off their land with dogs. Or worse. So he was careful to keep to the public road, clear of the estate's boundaries.

Leaving Copt Hall behind, an hour and a half after beginning his trek, Dervish entered the secluded tranquility of Griffin's Wood. Here he found a large downed Hornbeam that conformed to the description imparted to him by his avian friend.

The minutes passed as Dervish took a swig from his waterskin while taking a rest on the moss covered log. Clearly it had been on the forest floor for some time, as it was afflicted with rot and covered with various mosses, as well as some English Ivy. The leaves of the Griffin Wood trees rustled in the warm breeze as Dervish scanned his surroundings, but no gleamings of bright and gold immediately caught his attention.

Hearing branches snapping, Dervish spotted a short, stout, black-haired man emerge from the trees.

"You there!" the man shouted. "I lost something very valuable in the vicinity. You didn't happen to find it, did you?" The man eyed him with suspicion.

"No, sir", Dervish replied. "But I could help you look. Maybe you can describe what it is you lost?"

"A twill pouch filled with gold nobels that was tied to my belt", the man explained, a look of extreme worry on his bearded face. "Those coins were intended as repayment of a loan from my uncle. It will be very bad trouble for me and my household if I do not find it".

Dervish assumed this was the treasure the magpie tweeted about, and so decided to help the man attempt to locate it.

While searching, the man told Dervish that he lost the coins while running through the woods in fright.

"A harbinger of my misfortune, I fear", he lamented. "I am Ashley of Wood House, by the way. I am employed there as a handyman".

Dervish shook the man's hand and introduced himself. "I am Dervish of Waltham Abbey. I am employed there as a scribe". Though this was a white lie, given that Dervish had not worked as a scribe for several years, having resigned his position to test his fortunes as a fulltime adventurer.

A surprised expression crossed the man's face. "I have heard of you!" he exclaimed. "The rumor is that your family came into a great fortune recently. If your last name is Sanders, that is".

"It is not that great", Dervish replied, downplaying the magnitude of his family's recently acquired riches. "But, yes, my family name is Sanders". In his estimation the last thing the Sanders family needed was for word to spread and beggars to come knocking, looking for handouts. Not that he was opposed to giving to charitable causes. In fact, he had only recently anonymously donated a large sum to the local orphanage.

"Hmm. That's not what I heard", Ashley remarked. "I heard that that Sanders family is fabulously wealthy".

Dervish chuckled dismissively. "That is a great exaggeration. You know how it is with rumors".

Ashley of Wood House seemed to take Dervish at his word, remarking, "you seem like a decent bloke, unlike the snooty yfels that reside at Copt Hall".

After a half hour of searching, the two found nothing, so they decided to expand the perimeter. Shorty thereafter, a glint among the blades of grass caught Dervish's eye and he bent over, finding a torn pouch. It appeared to him that Ashley's purse had caught on the prickers of a hawthorn bush.

"By God's light, tis my pouch!" Ashley cried.

Dervish handed Ashley the pouch, though he could tell by the weight it was devoid of coinage. Ashley noticed this immediately as well.

"Woe is me! There is but one coin here of the eleven there should be", Ashley remarked after looking inside. Then turning it inside out. Then frantically searching the ground on his hands and knees; getting scraped across the face by the bush's thorns for his trouble.

Giving up, he sat dejectedly on the log, small drops of blood dripping from the light scratches on his face.

"Whatever will I do?" Ashley cried.

Dervish took pity on the man and offered a solution. "I tell you what, so long as you promise to tell no one, I will replace your coins. I happen to have some with me. Although, as I already said, my family has not come into a great fortune. We have been moderately blessed. I beg you not to perpetuate any false gossip on this matter".

Ashley readily agreed and Dervish handed him 10 gold nobles.

"I'll hunt you down and give you a severe thrashing if I hear of this", Dervish warned. He was not sure he would actually carry though with this threat, but issued it regardless.

Ashley grasped his hand and thanked him profusely. "I solemnly swear, I will tell no one".

It was then that a faint unnerving tittering rippled through the grove, carried on the breeze like the tinkling of distant wind chimes.

"Fey folk! I saw them earlier, which is why I was running". Ashley looked around fearfully. Dervish looked about as well. He saw no faeries.

"I bid thee good fortune!" Ashley blurted, clutching the coins close to his breast. Then he took to his heels and bolted, his shoes crunching the underbrush, as though the (presumed) faerie laughter was a hound at his heels.

Dervish recalled, having read something about it while working as a scribe, that the common folk believed faeries to be mischievous, and even dangerous beings. Also that they were sometimes associated with illness or misfortune. It is better to be safe than sorry, he told himself. Therefore he decided to return home, convinced that if he was able to locate the magpie nest, it definitely might contain the missing 10 gold nobels.

The Biographer: And with that, I will conclude this installment. I imagine you're wondering if Dervish will encounter these alluded to faeries.

Dervish Sanders: Not really. I'm assuming he will. I think the foreshadowing made it apparent. And that might explain why I never return home. By the way, what was Ashley doing tramping around in the woods with so much money? This doesn't seem like a wise thing for him doing. Proven by him losing his money pouch.

The Biographer: Well, that's something you will never know. Given that you might have asked Ashley before he ran away, but didn't. Though, in order to satisfy your curiosity, I will tell you. Ashley traveled from Wood House to Waltham Abbey to sell some of his belongings to raise funds to pay his debt. Then returned, passing though Griffin's Wood, which is where he spotted the faeries. Or imagined he did. And took off running, returning after he realized his money pouch was missing.

Now, if you have no further questions, we can conclude for today and get back to your encounter with the faeries next time. Which I won't deny will be occurring, as you correctly deduced.

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