Zahra Najjar Qadir Works To Decipher The Ancient Manuscript

Dervish Sanders: In the prior story you told, it was very much implied that I would become a father after I banged the hot librarian, Zahra.

The Biographer: Indeed, you did impregnate the former librarian, Zahra Najjar Qadir. Let me continue the story. It is now several months later, and from the roundness of the belly of your baby-mama Zahra, it is clear that she is carrying your child.

Ayla and Zahra lie in bed together, their sweaty nude bodies intertwined.

"Listen", Ayla whispered, "I want you to stop talking about marriage. I am very fond of you, but Dervish is my man".

Zahra took Ayla's hand and rubbed her bulging belly with it. "But I am pregnant with your man's baby", she countered.

"My gift to you", Ayla said, kissing Zahra gently on the lips. "But no marriage".

"Very well", a disappointed Zahra consented.

"Good girl", Ayla said, moving her hand off Zahra's belly and down between her legs.

Zahra began to moan. Then the two women started scissoring.

Afterward they went out to the fountain in the courtyard and the servant girl Dannia washed their bodies.

Dervish returned from his morning run and decided to go for a dip. After swimming a few laps he emerged and lay on a chaise poolside. Dannia brought him fresh fruit for breakfast. Ayla lay on a alshayz earaba next to him.

"Aren't you going to dress for the day?" Dervish inquired. It seemed that, after moving to the villa, he only rarely saw Ayla wearing any clothing.

"Can you bring me my robe, Dannia?" Ayla inquired of the servant girl. Dannia brought the requested silk robe. Ayla stood as Dannia helped her into it. "Is that better?" she asked.

"Not at all", Dervish remarked. "I shouldn't have said anything. I didn't mean for you to dress".

"Do you wish to make love to me?" Ayla asked.

"Yes, always", Dervish replied.

"Your man has a lot of stamina", Dannia remarked as she observed Ayla and Dervish going at it. Dervish stopped, suddenly embarrassed.

"I didn't realize you were still present, Dannia", Dervish said, pulling out. "Please bring me my robe".

Dannia rose and grabbed a robe for Dervish. Ayla took hold of his hayil qadib. "Wouldn't you like to taste this, Dannia?" she asked, massaging Dervish.

"No, mam", Dannia protested. Her face turned a bright red, though she did not remove her gaze from Dervish's dakhmat qadib. Dervish slipped into and closed up his robe.

"You can tell me the truth", Ayla pressed.

"Yes, very much", Dannia confessed.

"Wait a minute", Dervish interjected. "How old are you, Dannia?"

"I am 15, Sayidi Dervish".

Dervish frowned. "You are but a girl".

"No, I am a woman", Dannia cried, obviously disappointed.

"Can you please bring Ayla and I some Maghrebi mint teas?" Dervish asked.

"Right away, Sayidi Dervish". Dannia departed.

"Too young?" Ayla asked, confusion in her voice. "I've had her. You may indulge, my love. I grant permission. If that is your concern".

Dervish shook his head no.

"It must be your western way, which is mysterious to me", Ayla concluded, referring to the fact that Dervish was an Englalander, having travelled here from across the Roman Sea. Though he had been here several decades and spoke the language fluently.

"Yes, that's it", Dervish agreed.

"So, at what age could you fvck her as she clearly desires?" Ayla inquired.

"18", Dervish answered. "Though 20 or 21 would be better".

"la afham" Ayla remarked. "I truly do not understand. Well, don't expect me to. I intend to continue using my property as I see fit". Ayla could sense that Dervish was about to object. "Yes, Dannia is a human with rights and slavery is immoral". But Dervish knew she didn't understand.

"You're wrong, my love. I do understand your point of view. But the fact is slavery is legal. I paid many dirhams for Dannia and she belongs to me. Don't worry about it. I have and will continue to treat her well. Very well, in fact. She is extremely lucky she belongs to me and not a harsh master".

Dannia returned, carrying a tray with the previously requested teas. Ayla took her tea and blew on it gently. Frost formed on the edges of the cup.

"A chill spell", Ayla explained as Dannia starred, her mouth agape.

"Wallah, you truly are a powerful sorceress", Dannia exclaimed in astonishment.

"That's nothing", Ayla demurred. "I could teach you if you'd like", she offered.

"No, mam, I am not intelligent enough to learn such magicks".

"Nonsense. I can teach you. I will let you know when your lessons start. That is but a minor cantrip. After a few lessons to nail down the basics of magick, you should be able to cast similar cantrips within a few months".

"I respectfully decline, mam" Dannia replied.

"No, I insist. You WILL learn magicks. Now please go finish the housework".

Dannia smiled, "Yes, mam" she said, then departed.

"I'll take my tea chilled as well", Dervish said handing his cup to Ayla. "I know you know, but even teaching a slave to read is a crime. Teaching a slave magicks is punishable by death".

"Pffft", Ayla remarked, returning Dervish's now iced tea to him. "I do what I want, like I said. And Dannia is learning how to read. Zahra is teaching her. I hear she is having some minor difficulties, but that she is actually quite intelligent. She doubts herself, but she will come around".

Just then Zahra entered the courtyard. She shed her silk robe and entered the pool, nude. She swam around a bit, then emerged. "That was refreshing", she exclaimed.

Ayla toweled her off. "Look", she said, clasping her hands around Zahra's growing belly. "Your bidhara is growing. Soon you will be a father".

"What of you?" Zahra inquired. "You two are fvcking constantly. Why have you not given Dervish a child?"

"I do not desire a child", Ayla remarked, brushing off the librarian's question. Zahra had no idea she was a formerly an immortal Apsara. Could Ayla give Dervish a child? Possibly. Though she did not desire one (as she said) and so did not. Despite the many thousands of times she and Dervish had made love in the 3 years they had been together.

"How is the translation of the manuscript coming?" Ayla inquired, changing the subject.

"Umm. It's coming along fine", Zahra answered as she retrieved her robe. Then she sat down next to Dervish. She gave Dervish a long passionate kiss. "I am almost finished", she announced, wrapping her arms around Dervish's neck and placing her head on his shoulder. "Except. I need to consult another manuscript back at the library".

"I had no idea this translation would take so long", Dervish sighed. "Ayla and I can retrieve this manuscript".

"No, I need to go. I'm not exactly sure where I last saw it. Going in person will jog my memory", the former librarian explained. "I'm sure".

"Very well" Dervish agreed, "let us dress and consult this manuscript today. It has over 2 years! I am ready to finally pinpoint the location of the fabled Sun Palace".

 swtd-427. dsa-11.  Analysis. Previous. Next.

Zahra Najjar Qadir Resigns Her Position As Head Librarian

The Biographer: As you recall, Dervish and Ayla, with the help of head librarian Zahra, located the information they had been seeking for many months deep within the bowels of the Al-Qarawiyyin Library. A tome titled "The Secrets of the Sun Palace".

Dervish Sanders: Yes, I remember. I also remember that Zahra was an old woman previously, but de-aged by several decades after imbibing a youth potion.

The Biographer: Yes, you remember correctly. Now, let me pick up where I left off, which was just after Zahra drank the elixir of youth and aged backward from 100 to 20 in a matter of minutes...

"That was some powerful magick", an astonished Zahra remarked. This was after the trio made their way back to Zahra's quarters. Zahra stood before a full length mirror marveling at her appearance. "I always was a stunner", she exclaimed. "Though I had forgotten".

Zahra began to strip off her clothing, finally standing before the mirror completely nude. Dervish agreed she was extraordinarily beautiful.

"These aren't drooping any longer", Zahra said, fondling her own ample bosoms. She ran her hands down her slender torso. Then she began to pleasure herself by rubbing between her legs. Zahra moaned, "I am so incredibly horny".

"Should we leave?" Dervish inquired, feeling uncomfortable.

"No, please do not", Zahra begged.

Zahra approached Ayla. "I must have your man inside me", she cried. "Please, with your permission", she pleaded.

Zahra put her arms around Ayla, who did not resist. "You are a gorgeous woman", Zahra purred, kissing Ayla.

The two women began making out. Ayla shed her clothing, then went to her knees.

Ayla began to pleasure Zahra using her tongue. Zahra orgasmed, her hands wound up in Ayla's flowing blonde locks as she ground her pelvis against Ayla's face.

The two nude beauties then approached Dervish and began to undress him. After his garments were removed the two women went to their knees and took turns giving Dervish's manhood oral pleasure.

Dervish looked at Ayla and she nodded in agreement. Dervish laid Zahra on the bed and spread her legs. Soon he was thrusting vigorously. This went on for some time.

Zahra cried out in ecstasy, arching her back as she experienced a second, much more intense orgasm. Both Dervish and Zahra reached ultimate rapture simultaneously while Ayla looked on.

"Thank you so much", Zahra murmured in gratitude. "That was truly the best sex I have ever had".

Then she grabbed Dervish's member and started to massage it. After a while he was ready to go again -- and they did.

"I once was married", Zahra sighed as she lay in Dervish's embrace afterward. Ayla lay on the other side of the bed. She gently bit and kissed her lover's ear.

"He went off with some companions on an adventure, but never returned. According to his companions he was devoured by a horrid monster".

"I'm so sorry", Ayla responded, consoling the librarian.

"It was a very long time ago", Zahra replied. "I never remarried".

Then she mounted Dervish and began to ride him.

"I never had a child, even though I always desired one", she revealed.

"Go ahead and give her your seed", Ayla urged.

"Surely such a fine specimen of a man like yourself must have many children", Zahra pondered as she continued to ride Dervish, her large breasts bouncing. Finally Dervish gave up his almani (for the 4th time).

"I don't have any offspring I am aware of", Dervish insisted.

"I predict that will change soon", Ayla said knowingly.

Dervish didn't know how he felt about this development.

"Thank you, Dervish", Zahra said, kissing him. "Thank you, Ayla", she added.

Dervish moved his hands down Zahra's nude torso and grabbed her firm round buttocks, squeezing them.

Some time later (after cuddling some more) Zahra rose and began to dress. Then, when finished, she began to gather some belongings.

"What's going on?" Dervish inquired.

"I'm going with you", Zahra answered. "I'm your woman now. I'm ok with being your second wife". Then she thought... "how many wives do you have?"

"I have no wives", Dervish replied.

"You and Ayla are not married?" Zahra was taken aback.

"We are a committed couple, but not legally united", Ayla explained.

"Oh", Zahra sighed. "I would prefer to be married to my child's father. Well, we have time for that later. If you could please help me pack".

"I will bring this as well", she said, slipping The Secrets of the Sun Palace into a leather satchel.

"I thought that was library property?" Dervish asked.

"I won't tell if you don't", Zahra smiled. "Don't worry. I will translate and return it. It will take some time, however".

Ayla and Dervish packed up more of the librarian's belongings as she sat at her desk and wrote.

"My resignation letter", she explained. "I'm recommending that the administrator promote Ehsan to replace me. He has studied for many years and is ready to take on the responsibilities of head librarian", Zahra said, speaking quietly to herself.

Then the thruple departed. After placing Zahra's note into Administrator al-Qurashiyya's mailbox. The sun was just beginning to rise as they exited the Al-Qarawiyyin Library, silently crossing the marble tiles. Dervish pushing a library cart piled with many of Zahra's possessions.

Zahra turned and gazed at the library. "I will miss this place", she lamented. "I have spent over 50 years of my life here".

Dervish Sanders: That was the most erotic tale you have told to date. Do you think this belongs behind an explicit content warning if I post this on my blog?

The Biographer: Naah. You'll be ok. You know absolutely nobody reads your blog. So, I say there is no need to worry about it.


Exterior courtyard of the Al-Qarawiyyin library at dawn.

 swtd-426. dsa-10.  Analysis. Previous. Next.

The Whispering Stacks & The Horrific Fate Of Ahmed Battuta

Dervish Sanders: About the prior tale -- the one that took place in the bowels of the Al-Qarawiyyin Library -- this library is located in the city of Fes. But, previously you told a couple of tales in which Dervish and Ayla made base, or were hanging out in the city of Marrakech. These cities are approximately 240 miles apart. Did Dervish and Ayla relocate to Fes from Marrakech?

The Biographer: Correct. That is how far apart Marrakech and Fes are. Travel by foot between the 2 cities would take a week to 12 days if a person walked 20 to 30 miles a day, which is quite a bit of time. Dervish and Ayla decided to move to Fes in order to be near the great library. After Ayla found some cryptic writing on the wall of a temple located at the Whispering Oasis that hinted at a great treasure hidden within a lost palace.

Dervish Sanders: A great treasure, huh? That's why we are trying to find the Sun Palace by researching it at the Al-Qarawiyyin Library? Got it. Locating a great treasure sounds very much like something I would be interested in pursuing.

btw, in the previous tale the librarian Zahra referred to something called the "Whispering Stacks". I assumed that would figure into the story, but whatever that is was not mentioned again.

The Biographer: If it is your desire to know more about the Whispering Stacks, I can certainly oblige. The story behind the Whispering Stacks is a chilling tale woven into the very fabric of the Al-Qarawiyyin Library. Deep within the library's labyrinthine corridors lies a section known as the Whispering Stacks. It's said that these shelves harbor ancient tomes -- books inscribed with forbidden knowledge, cryptic spells, and the musings of long-lost scholars. But beware, for the stacks themselves are sentient, their pages imbued with a spectral energy.

More than three centuries ago the venerable librarian Ahmed Battuta stumbled upon the Whispering Stacks during a moonless night. His lantern flickered as he ventured deeper, drawn by an otherworldly murmur. The air thickened, and the books rustled like restless souls. Battuta's heart raced; he sensed a presence -- an intelligence beyond mere ink and parchment.

Battuta's trembling hand reached for a tome titled Liber Arcanum. Its leather cover bore cryptic symbols. As he opened it, the room quivered. The words whispered secrets -- forgotten rituals, glimpses of distant realms, and the price of forbidden knowledge. Battuta read, his mind unraveling, until he glimpsed the abyss itself.

The Whispering Stacks hungered for more than readers -- they craved interaction. Ahmed, desperate for answers, made his choice. He offered his memories -- the taste of her grandmother's honeyed tea, the scent of jasmine in the courtyard -- sacrifices to unlock arcane truths. In return, the stacks granted him glimpses of lost civilizations, the music of forgotten poets, and the echo of a thousand souls.

But every boon exacts a toll. Battuta aged swiftly, his hair silvering, his eyes clouding. He forgot his own name, his family, and the taste of laughter. The stacks consumed his memories, weaving them into their spectral fabric. Yet he persisted, driven by insatiable curiosity and a desire to glimpse the cosmos beyond mortal comprehension.

Battuta became both guardian and prisoner. He wandered the Whispering Stacks, His footsteps echoing through forgotten epochs. He whispered forgotten tales to the moon, his voice blending with the wind. And when seekers entered, he guided them -- offering cryptic clues, urging caution, and ensuring the stacks' secrets remained intact.

You may be wondering that this has to do with the previous tale? Well, as you recall, Dervish Sanders encountered the ghost of Ibn Al-Hasan -- another librarian -- though from another age. Ibn Al-Hasan ventured into the subterranean levels of the library. While searching for an ancient scroll, he too encountered the Whispering Stacks -- an eerie place where the boundary between the living and the supernatural blurs.

"Avoid the stacks". Ibn recalled the library lore. "Beware the horrific fate that befell Ahmed Battuta". Ahmed Battuta, once a diligent keeper of knowledge, had been researching an ancient scroll hidden deep within the library. The scroll contained forbidden secrets -- arcane knowledge that could alter reality itself. In his obsession to unlock its mysteries, Ahmed inadvertently invoked dark forces. The Whispering Stacks responded, twisting his mind and soul.

Ahmed Battuta exists in a fractured state. His sanity wavers between lucidity and madness. Sometimes, he assists those who cross his path, sharing cryptic clues or guiding them toward hidden truths. Other times, he becomes malevolent, driven by a vengeful rage that seeks to extinguish life.

Al-Hasan, though aware of the library's supernatural dangers, decided to seek the same ancient scroll. He moved quickly though the stacks, attempting to avoid an encounter with Battuta. Among the few who had entered the depths of the library, some reported that the ghost's intentions are unpredictable. Perhaps Ahmed would recognize him as a kindred spirit -- a fellow seeker of forbidden knowledge -- and offer guidance. Or perhaps he would perceive him as a threat and seek to eliminate him.

Alas, this evening Ahmed Battuta's madness prevailed. In a moment of terror, he attacked Al-Hasan, who was overcome with fear and perished. But death is not the end. Al-Hasan's spirit lingers, trapped between realms. He become a ghost himself, another soul forever bound to the Whispering Stacks.

And so, within the ancient Al-Qarawiyyin Library, the cycle continues. Ghosts haunt its corridors, their stories interwoven with forgotten scrolls and hidden truths. Al-Hasan, like Ahmed before him, grapples with his newfound existence, seeking answers and an escape.

Should you venture into the Al-Qarawiyyin Library, heed this advice: Beware the Whispering Stacks. Seek knowledge, but guard your memories well. For the spectral forms of Battuta and Al-Hasan still roam, their eyes hollow yet filled with cosmic wonder. And the stacks? They hunger, always hunger, for the next seeker to strike a perilous bargain. Remember the Al-Qarawiyyin Library holds not only tangible manuscripts but also the echoes of souls lost in pursuit of knowledge beyond mortal comprehension.

 swtd-425. dsa-9.  Analysis. Previous. Next.

Dervish Sanders & The Ghost of Ibn Al-Hasan

The Al-Qarawiyyin Library stood in the heart of Fes, its walls adorned with intricate mosaics and shelves groaning under the weight of centuries-old manuscripts. It was a place where the air smelled of aged parchment and the promise of hidden knowledge.

Dervish Sanders and Ayla were very familiar with the place, having spent many hours in the library pouring over dusty old tomes, searching for information about the fabled Sun Palace. But, after several months of research, Dervish was beginning to think there was nothing here to find. Or, that, if there was, they would never locate it.

"The library administrator, Fihriya al-Qurashiyya said we should speak with the head librarian, Zahra", Ayla remarked.

"You got an appointment?" Dervish asked. He had been trying to get one for a while now, but the administrator always seemed to be busy.

"Yes, I saw her this morning, while you were on your daily run. Her office is this way", Ayla informed Dervish, pointing.

In a far corner deep in the library they found an unmarked red door.

"This is it", Ayla said.

Dervish knocked. After waiting awhile, the door finally creaked open. An elderly woman in her 70s, possibly 80s answered.

"Ahh", she remarked, her eyes lighting up. "You must be Dervish Sanders. The administrator said I might be getting a visit from you".

Zahra opened the door and ushered them into her small office/apartment. "I hear you are seeking information regarding the usturi Sun Palace".

"Do you know anything about it?" Ayla inquired.

"Possibly, young lass", Zahra replied cryptically. "There may be a tome that has some useful information about it. If I remember correctly. Though it has been over a decade at least since I saw this tome. It is deep within the library, in a section not open to the public".

"I was just translating these documents", Zahra remarked, pointing to a desk with some scrolls laid out on it. "My vision isn't as good as it used to be", she sighed.

"Can you show us where we can find this tome?" Dervish asked after several seconds of silence.

"Oh, I think I might be able to. Even though, as you can see, I am very busy. But for the famed adventurer Dervish Sanders I can make some time".

"Can you hand me my walking stick?" Zahra indicated a cane propped up in a corner of the small room.

Ayla retrieved the cane and handed it to the librarian.

"Thank you, dear", Zahra said, taking the cane. The trio departed the apartment, Zahra slowly leading the way. "I saw it in the basement, I think. Like I said, it must have been 20 years ago. The Sun Palace is only a fairy story, though. I don't know of any evidence suggesting it actually exists".

The elderly librarian led them through dimly lit corridors and down a flight of stone steps. Further and further they descended. "The library holds more than books", Zahra cautioned, her voice a gentle murmur. "It harbors secrets -- some buried intentionally, others lost to time".

As they wandered deeper, Dervish noticed a flicker of movement -- a shadow slipping behind a bookcase.

Ayla drew her jambiya, her instincts sharp. "Did you see that?", she whispered.

"Beware the Whispering Stacks", Zahra warned. "They tempt those who seek answers. Now follow me".

They pushed aside a heavy tapestry, revealing a hidden alcove. The shelves here were different -- older, dustier. Zahra pointed to a gap between two leather-bound volumes.

"Press there", she instructed.

Dervish hesitated, then pushed the books together. The wall shifted, revealing a narrow passage. They stepped into darkness, torches flaring to life along the stone walls. The air grew colder, and echoes of forgotten scholars seemed to murmur in their ears. In the heart of the hidden passages, they encountered a figure -- a translucent silhouette dressed in scholarly robes. The ghostly man turned toward them, his eyes hollow yet filled with longing.

"I am Ibn Al-Hasan", he said, his voice echoing. "Once a librarian here, now bound to these halls. Seek the ancient scroll that bears the map to the lost city of Zephyria. It will guide you to the Well of Eternity".

"Zephyria?” Ayla asked, confused. "We are searching for clues to the location of the Sun Palace. Not this Well".

"oh", Ibn Al-Hasan replied. "I just assumed. I figured that, some day, someone would come looking for information concerning the Well of Eternity. But..." he trailed off.

Apparently he was deep in thought. "Yes, I think I know of a document nearby that contains information about the location of the Sun Palace".

The ghostly figure of Ibn Al-Hasan drifted away. "Follow me", he intoned.

They followed Ibn Al-Hasan's guidance, passing through chambers filled with star charts and cryptic diagrams. Finally, in a forgotten alcove, they found the scroll -- a delicate parchment adorned with constellations. Its ink shimmered like stardust.

As Dervish unrolled it, a map emerged -- a celestial path leading beyond the known realms. The stars aligned, revealing a hidden gate in the heart of the desert.

"Take this scroll", Ibn Al-Hasan whispered. "Zephyria awaits. But beware -- the Well is guarded by the shaytan Akuma".

"I don't think we want to deal with a demon", Dervish countered. This spirit seemed to have a one track mind. Did he know where the tome they sought was?

"AHHHH!" Ibn Al-Hasan cried in frustration. "Then leave the scroll here. It is library property".

"What about the Sun Palace!" Dervish shouted as Ibn Al-Hasan began to drift away, dematerializing. But he faded away entirely and was gone.

"Don't worry, dear", Zahra counseled. "The tome with the information about the Sun Palace is here". The elderly librarian pointed to a medium-sized tome on a nearby shelf.

"Oh. ok. Thank you". Dervish located the book in question. "The secrets of the Sun Palace", he said, translating the title on the cover. "This looks like it might contain the information we have been searching for all these months".

"Wait!" Zahra yelped. "Do not touch. Use these". She handed Dervish a pair of sheepskin gloves. "I don't want your oils to be transferred to the parchment", she explained.

Dervish donned the gloves before handling the ancient tome.

"Carry that back for me and I will make you a copy. I can't let you have the original. It is library property".

Zahra turned to leave. Suddenly Ibn Al-Hasan rematerialized right in front of the elderly librarian. So close that their forms overlapped.

"YEEEAHHH!" The librarian screamed in shock and terror. Her gray hair turned white, then fell out. Her wrinkled skin wrinkled more. She rapidly aged in front of their eyes by at least 30 years. Then she dropped to the floor, a bag of bones.

"You killed her!" Ayla cried, drawing her jambiya.

"Oh, no", Ibn sobbed. "I didn't mean to do that".

"Well, she is definitely dead", Dervish remarked.

Ayla rushed to Zahra, cradling her body. "I hear an extremely faint heartbeat", she said after placing her head to the apparent corpse's chest.

"What can we do?" Dervish lamented. It surely looked hopeless. There was little more left than a dried out husk of what used to be a person.

"I can fix this", Ibn claimed.

Dervish and Ayla doubted what the ghost said very much, but Ibn insisted.

"There is a small wooden box on the shelf over there", Ibn indicated. "Hidden behind a copy of the Nefzawi".

Dervish leapt to his feet, found the box and opened it. Inside he found two vials.

"That is my personal property. From the time that I lived", Ibn explained. "One of the vials is a healing elixir".

"Which one?" Dervish asked.

"I do not remember", Ibn admitted. "Give both. The other has some regenerative powers as well. Well, the street vendor who sold them to me claimed that".

Dervish extremely doubted these alleged elixirs would do any good. But they surely could do no further harm. So he uncorked both, parted Zahra's leathery lips and poured them into her mouth. several moments of silence passed but nothing happened.

"I can't say I'm surprised", Dervish remarked. They'd have to let Fihriya al-Qurashiyya know what happened. Maybe they'd be banned from the library for allowing the head librarian to be killed while on a task for their benefit? Dervish was quite worried. Also sad that this poor woman had met such a fate.

"Wait!", Ayla said suddenly. "She lives!"

Zahra's eyes, deeply sunken in her skull, opened. Then, remarkably she began to age backward. In a matter of minutes she was 70 again.

"Help me to my feet", the old librarian croaked. She stood, leaning on her cane. "That scared the alqarf out of me!" Zahra moaned.

To Dervish and Ayla's amazement Zahra continued to de-age. Now she appeared to be in her 40s. "oh, my!" she exclaimed. "When will it stop?"

"I remember now! There was an elixir of life and the other was an elixir of youth. I wish I had taken them before I passed", Ibn lamented.

Indeed, youth was what was bestowed, as now it was obvious that Zahra, a gray-haired granny with a stooped posture in her 70s when they met earlier, was now a vibrant young woman in her 20s. Her hair grew back in. It was a luxurious shimmering blue-black. Her previously wrinkled and age spotted skin was taut and glowing. She surely was a beauty.


Image: The Librarian Zahra Najjar Qadir, before and after a magical elixir of youth is administered.

 swtd-424. dsa-8.  Analysis. Previous. Next.

Dervish Sanders & The Ballad of Bijan The Brave

The Biographer: So, you're back. Do you wish to hear more of the adventures of Dervish Sanders and Ayla?

Dervish Sanders: Sure, why not.

The Biographer: OK. Here goes. This entry is called, "Dervish Sanders & The Ballad of Bijan the Brave". In the heart of an ancient forest, nestled between the Quercus libani and stone pines, lay the humble village of Abu Qilyub. Its adobe structures huddled together, smoke rising in lazy spirals toward the canopy. But this peaceful town was facing a dire threat -- the marauding goblins.

Khalil el-Moumni, an Imam of Abu Qilyub, sent word to Dervish Sanders by carrier pigeon. "Please, Abu Qilyub needs your help", the message read. A young slave boy approached Dervish Sanders and handed him a scroll as he was paging through a dusty tome in the Al-Qarawiyyin Library. Dervish accepted the scroll and the slave boy departed. This was not unusual. He had received other messages here in the past.

"What does it say?" his love Ayla inquired. She placed a bookmark in the manuscript she had been reading. Was this the beginning of another adventure? It turned out it was. Dervish and Ayla gathered supplies and departed that evening.

Camping overnight, they arrived at the mosque in the center of Abu Qilyub midday. Khalil el-Moumni greeted them.

"Greetings, I recognize you, Dervish Sanders. Peace be upon you. I have been eagerly awaiting your arrival. I offer my gratitude for answering my call. Our village needs your help desperately".

The sun was rising in the sky. The temperature was rising as well.

"It is much cooler inside", el-Moumni said, ushering them into the mosque. The trio sat on some prayer mats. "Here, have some tea", Khalil said, pouring them each a cup.

Ayla accepted the tea and took a sip. "This is delicious", she remarked politely.

"Thank you", Khalil said. "Now", the cleric said nervously. "We don't have much in the way of dinars to pay you for your services...".

Dervish interrupted him, "no payment will be necessary".

The Imam smiled. "Thank the gods", he remarked with relief. "As my note said, marauding goblins are terrorizing our town. Killing livestock and raping our women. Several citizens have been killed. This must stop before it escalates further. These creatures cannot be reasoned with. My junior cleric Asim tried to negotiate with them, but was taken hostage. Please, he may be dead already, but if you could rescue him and put an end to the goblin threat, I will be forever in your debt".

Dervish Sanders, a seasoned warrior with a scar across his left eye, swore to protect Abu Qilyub. His scimitar, forged from enchanted steel, hung at his side. Ayla, his love, stood by his side -- a fierce archer with eyes like emeralds. Her arrows never missed their mark.

On that fateful evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Dervish and Ayla sat (across from a local inn where they were to spend the night) in a dimly lit tea house, nursing mugs of frothy Arak. The air smelled of pine resin and hearth smoke. That's when Bijan stumbled in -- a lanky young man with wild hair and eyes wide as saucers.

"By the stars!" Bijan exclaimed, spotting Dervish. "It's the legendary Dervish Sanders! The Goblin Slayer! The one who single-handedly defeated the Ogre King of Jebel Yagour!"

Dervish scowled. "I am Dervish Sanders, but I am no goblin slayer. Not yet, at least. And I've never fought an ogre king".

"That's the word in town", Bijan retorted.

"What do you want, lad?" Dervish inquired.

Bijan's voice trembled with excitement. "I -- I want to join your quest! To fight goblins! To be part of your saga!"

Ayla stifled a laugh, her fingers tracing her bowstring. "And why should we let you tag along?"

Bijan leaned in, eyes shining. "Because I've memorized every ballad about you! I know the secret of your scar -- the one you got while battling the swamp witch! And I've even composed a poem in your honor!"

"Swamp witch? Huh. I've never heard that one", Dervish replied. Dervish's patience waned. "We don't need a bard. We need warriors. If anyone is to join us".

"But I can wield a khanjar!" Bijan protested. "And I've read the ancient texts. Goblins fear silver, right? I've got a silver locket my grandmother gave me. It's..."

"I have never heard that goblins fear silver. In fact, I can assure you that they do not", Dervish interrupted. "Goblins fear courage and strength".

"Please", Ayla said. "We don't want to be responsible for your death. I assure you, Dervish and I can take care of these goblins by ourselves".

And so, the unlikely trio set forth. Dervish led the way, his scarred eye scanning the forest for signs of trouble. Ayla followed, her bow ready, while Bijan skipped alongside, reciting epic verses about Dervish's heroics.

Ayla pleaded with Bijan to turn back, but he refused. In fact, he brought along another.

"This is Zahid" he said, introducing his friend. "He is a strong fighter who has trained with a scimitar. Take us along. We can help".

Dervish eyed Zahid. He did did look strong. And had the countenance of a warrior.

"I already killed several goblins", Zahid bragged. "When they attacked the town. Now I want to take the fight to them".

Dervish considered what Zahid said. "Very well", Dervish relented. "But, if Bijan is to come along -- you should look out for his safety".

Zahid agreed.

They found the goblin camp later that evening -- a cluster of crude huts surrounded by sharpened stakes. The goblins, green-skinned and snarling, emerged, their eyes filled with malice.

Dervish charged, his scimitar singing through the air. Ayla's arrows whistled, finding their targets.

And Bijan? Well, he tripped over a tree root, dropped his khanjar, and screamed like a frightened squirrel. But in that moment, something changed. His fear transformed into determination. He picked up his khanjar and lunged at a goblin, surprising everyone --including himself.

The battle raged. Dervish fought like a whirlwind. Ayla's arrows never missed. Zahid swung his scimitar, felling several of the foul creatures. And Bijan? Well, he didn't die. That was a start. When the last goblin fell, Bijan wiped sweat from his brow.

"Did you see that? I stabbed one! I'm a hero!"

Ayla grinned. "What about your poem? Do you have any ideas for a ballad commemorating our victory?"

Bijan blushed. "Not yet, but I will! What about The Ballad of Bijan the Brave!"

Then blood spurted from his mouth. After an arrow whizzed out of nowhere, striking him in the chest. Bijan fell to the ground and lay there, unmoving.

More arrows began flying, one striking Zahid in the arm. "I've been hit!" Zahid howled.

"Take cover!" Ayla cried.

The companions, dragging the limp body of Bijan, sought shelter from the barrage of arrows behind a towering Quercus libani.

"Who is firing on us!?" Zahid yelled, blood spurting from his wound.

"Over there", Ayla answered, pointing.

Dervish looked where his love had indicated. There he saw an armored goblin. Of the several dozen others they had slain, none wore such protection.

"That must be the top goblin fighter. And/or their leader", Zahid figured. Then he stumbled and passed out from shock.

"Looks like I'm going to need to break out some magicks", Ayla proclaimed, rubbing her hands together. A flame appeared hovering above her open palm. Then the ball of fire accelerated toward the armored goblin, growing in size as it did.

When the fireball found it's mark it exploded, incinerating the armored goblin.

Dervish approached the smoldering corpse. It was completely fried.

"Yeah, that's dead", Dervish said, kicking the extra-crispy body with his boot. The goblin's heated metal armor sizzled.

Dervish returned to find Ayla binding the wounds of Zahid and Bijan, whose injury looked deadly serious.

"Will Bijan live?" Dervish asked.

"I'm not sure", Ayla replied. "It looks grim".

Dervish quickly searched the crude huts, looking for any sign of the kidnapped junior cleric.

In the 3rd hut Dervish found a young man, his hands bound behind his back, a gag in his mouth. He was dressed in clerical robes. This was clearly the kidnapped holy man. Dervish freed him. The cleric thanked him, then they returned to where Ayla was tending to Bijan. Zahid was sitting on a log moaning quietly.

"Let me help", the cleric implored. He knelt down and laid hands on Bijan, praying for healing. Bijan's eyes fluttered open. "Praise the gods!" the young cleric exclaimed.

"Thank you for saving me, Mullah Asim. I thought I was a goner for sure".

"Yes, you were close to death. Saved only through divine intervention", Asim replied. "Now rest".

They made camp for the night, travelling back to Abu Qilyub the next day. It seemed the entire population of Abu Qilyub was awaiting their return. When the town folk saw the young cleric, Mullah Asim, and heard that the marauding goblins had been wiped out, everyone present loudly cheered.

And so, Abu Qilyub was saved, not only by the legendary Dervish Sanders and his skilled archer love, but also by the clumsy, enthusiastic farmboy who stumbled into their tale. As well as the heroic Zahid. Bijan and Zahid became hometown heroes, although Bijan decided a life of adventure was not for him.

"My first adventure. Also my last adventure", he declared.

And so, dear reader, remember this -- legends are forged not only by the mighty, but by those who stumble into greatness, armed with silver lockets and unwavering enthusiasm. And that, my friend, is the tale of Dervish Sanders, Ayla, Zahid and the unforgettable Bijan -- the Goblin Slayer's most ardent fan.

Dervish Sanders: I have a scar over my eye now? How did that happen? I don't recall any tale in which I was scared.

The Biographer: What I hear is that Dervish Sanders and Ayla, walking in the Le Jardin Secret Garden in Marrakech late one evening, on a whim decided to climb a Lebanese cedar. Feeling amorous, Ayla convinced Dervish that they should make love right there among the foliage. The bough gave way as Dervish thrusted and they fell to the terracotta below. The fall stunned the couple, and they lay on the ground for a while, completely nude. Dervish put his hand to his forehead and found that he was bleeding profusely, having been scratched by a branch in the fall.

A passing old woman wearing a hijab was startled. She started cursing and yelling at the couple. "I will notify the religious police!" the woman screeched.

"Hush, please", Dervish implored.

The elderly lady stopped yelling and her eyes grew wide. "La yusadiqu!" she exclaimed, staring at Dervish's manhood. "I've never seen one so large!"

Dervish and Ayla gathered their clothing and took off. Later, back at their room at the Riad Palais Sebban, Ayla stitched up Dervish's wound.

"That is going to leave a scar", she remarked.

 swtd-423. dsa-7.  Analysis. Previous. Next.

Dervish Sanders & The Enigma of the Whispering Oasis

Dervish Sanders: Previously you spun a yarn of Dervish Sanders and the celestial maiden Ayla. Can you tell me what happened after their encounter in the Dreamweaver's Labyrinth? I've been thinking about that story.

After you told it I looked up what a celestial maiden is. As per Wikipedia, a celestial maiden is also known as an Apsara. The entry says asperia are renowned for seducing rishis in order to prevent them from attaining divine powers. A rishi is an accomplished and enlightened person. Wikipedia also notes that "literally anyone will fall for them for their beauty".

I take it that Ayla seduced Dervish Sanders to prevent him from attaining divine powers? My impression (at the end of that tale) was that Dervish and Ayla fell in love. But now it definitely appears to be the case that I was tricked. Apparently the gods don't like it when a mortal attempts to join their ranks. And they seek to prevent this from happening.

The Biographer: Yeah. You got it. But that is what is called a spoiler. As you noted, "literally anyone will fall for them for their beauty". So, although Dervish Sanders possesses great knowledge, he still falls into the "literally anyone" category. In any case, let me tell you how this shakes out. That's the story.

After meeting in the Dreamweaver's labyrinth the love between Dervish Sanders and Ayla blossomed. Ayla convinced Dervish that he should quit the Dreamweaver gig and she would choose to fall. Her love for Dervish was so great that she would give up immortality for him. Dervish asked if she was certain.

Ayla replied, "yes, my love". And so the couple returned to Marrakech, a city where the scent of spices hung heavy in the air, looking for adventure.

Together they sought hidden treasures and forgotten legends. Their love deepened amidst the bustling bazaars and ancient riads. They shared stolen kisses in the shadow of the Koutoubia Mosque and whispered secrets beneath the orange trees in Jardin Majorelle. But it was the tale of the fabled Sands of Destiny that ignited their passion -- a tale whispered by old storytellers in dimly lit tea houses.

One moonlit night, as the desert winds whispered secrets, Dervish and Ayla sat by the ancient Almoravid Koubba. Its domed roof shimmered like a pearl against the star-studded sky. Ayla traced constellations with her finger, her eyes alight with curiosity. Dervish exposed himself and Ayla mounted him, cowgirl-style. Ayla rode Dervish with wild abandon until they both climaxed, simultaneously.

Afterward, they remained in each other's embrace. Ayla unbuttoned her top, and Dervish fondled her breasts and gently bit her nipples.

"Dervish", Ayla whispered into his ear, "have you heard of the Whispering Oasis?"

Dervish Sanders was intrigued. "Whispering Oasis? Tell me more, darling".

"It lies beyond the dunes", Ayla explained. "Legends say that at midnight, when the moon kisses the sands, the oasis speaks. It reveals forgotten truths and grants a single wish".

Dervish's adventurous spirit stirred. "Let's find it, Ayla. Let us unravel its secrets".

And so, hand in hand, they journeyed. The desert stretched before them -- an ocean of shifting sands. They faced scorching days and freezing nights, guided by the moon's silver path. Ayla's laughter echoed through the dunes, and Dervish's heart beat in rhythm with the desert drums.

Finally, they reached the Whispering Oasis -- a pool of crystal-clear water surrounded by palm trees. The moon hung low, casting shadows on the sand. Ayla dipped her fingers into the water, and it rippled like forgotten memories.

"Speak your heart's desire", she whispered. "The oasis listens".

Dervish hesitated. What did he truly wish for? Riches? Fame? No, it was simpler than that. "I wish for our love to endure -- to be eternal as the desert sands".

Ayla smiled, her eyes reflecting starlight. "And so it shall be".

The oasis stirred -- a soft murmur, like distant voices. Dervish felt warmth envelop him, binding their souls. Ayla's laughter blended with the desert wind, and they enjoyed intercourse under the moon's benevolent gaze. From that moment, their love became a compass. They explored Marrakech's hidden passages, deciphering ancient symbols. They danced in moonlit squares, their laughter echoing through the riads. And when danger loomed -- a sandstorm, a treacherous path -- they faced it together, their bond unbreakable.

The oasis granted them glimpses of forgotten civilizations -- the laughter of lost poets, the whispers of nomadic tribes. But their greatest treasure was each other. They reveled in stolen moments -- a kiss beneath a date palm, a shared cup of mint tea. As dawn approached, Ayla leaned against Dervish's shoulder.

"Our love is our greatest adventure", she murmured. He kissed her on the lips as he stuck his hand down the front of her skirt.

"Our love will never fade", Dervish remarked as he placed his face between Ayla's bosoms and motorboated them while continuing to finger her down below.

Dervish Sanders and Ayla remained by the Whispering Oasis for a while, their love eternal. They listened to its secrets, whispered their dreams, and watched the sun rise -- a promise of countless tomorrows. The Whispering Oasis may be a legend, but the love between Dervish and Ayla is real.

Dervish Sanders: But the love between Dervish and Ayla isn't real. And their love isn't eternal. Right? I mean, this story takes place BEFORE the last one. The one in which Dervish hooked up with that Sapphire lady. So, obviously something happens and they don't remain a couple.

The Biographer: Obviously. Though Dervish and Ayla did remain together for a while longer. And they have intercourse many, many times.

Dervish Sanders: OK. I am determined to hear the end of this tale. I want to know about the bust up. After that I image that Dervish Sanders goes on to bang a not insignificant number of other gorgeous females. I'd like to hear about that as well. But I can wait.

The Biographer: There is a bit more to add before I wrap up this installment, which is that, while staying at the Whispering Oasis, Dervish and Ayla explore the ruins and discover some cryptic writings that promise either a great treasure or death for those who seek the Sun Palace. Though you will have to wait until a future installment to find out more about that.


Note: The translation from Arabic to English of the text in the image above is, "Those who seek the Sun Palace will discover a Great Treasure. Or Death".

 swtd-422. dsa-6.  Analysis. Previous. Next.

Dervish Sanders & The Sapphire of Serendipity

The Biographer: Welcome back, Dervish Sanders. I see you have returned to hear another of your adventures. As you recall, you acquired the wisdom of the universe at the completion of your quest for the Sapphire of Serendipity.

After obtaining the magical gem, Dervish's thirst for knowledge grew insatiable. He traveled to the City of Scholars, where the greatest minds of the age gathered. There, he engaged in debates that lasted from dusk till dawn, his arguments as sharp as the edge of his sharpened scimitar.

But Dervish's destiny was not to be confined within city walls. Whispers of a lost city hidden deep in the Jungle of Juxtapositions reached his ears. A place where reality and myth intertwined, and where the Tree of Truth bore fruits that revealed the secrets of existence. With the Sapphire's light as his guide, Dervish ventured into the jungle.

The foliage was dense, and the air hummed with the power of concealed wisdom. Eventually Dervish encountered the Guardian of the Grove. Initially the Guardian appeared as a being of pure energy, but when confronted with Dervish Sanders, he transformed into a stooped old man.

Leaning on his cane, the old man remarked, "I will challenge you. You must prove your worth". The Guardian posed three enigmatic questions, each more complex than the last.

Dervish pondered, drawing upon the Sapphire's wisdom and his own experiences. With eloquence and insight, he answered each question, satisfying the Guardian's demand for profundity.

As a reward, Dervish was granted access to the Tree of Truth. He plucked a single fruit, and as he bit into its flesh, his eyes were opened to the interconnectedness of all things. He saw the threads of fate and consequence that bound the universe together.

Armed with this ultimate understanding, Dervish Sanders became more than a sage; he became a beacon of enlightenment, his teachings spreading like wildfire across the lands. And though his journey was long and his trials many, it was the pursuit of truth that remained the most exhilarating chapter of his legend.

And so, the saga of Dervish Sanders continues, evermore entwined with the tapestry of tales that span the breadth of time and imagination.

Dervish Sanders: That adventure was certainly short. Is there nothing else to tell?

The Biographer: There is a bit more. Months later Dervish Sanders encountered the Guardian again. He was traveling down the Nile, hoping to locate the great river's source. One night, after making camp, the Guardian appeared, catching Dervish off guard.

"I've been looking for you", the Guardian snarled. He seemed angry. "You think you outwitted me, but I have a surprise for you".

Dervish drew his scimitar, causing The Guardian to explode in laughter. "That will do no good against me", the Guardian roared.

Then he revealed his true form.

Instead of a being of pure energy, or an old man stooped with age, The Guardian, throwing down the cane he had previously leaned on, transformed before Dervish's astonished eyes into a powerful demon.

"I intended to steal the Sapphire of Serendipity from you, but you snuck away before I could. Now hand it over", the towering demon demanded.

Tapping into his great knowledge, Dervish Sanders decided the best course of action would be to make a strategic retreat. So he turned and ran.

"You can't escape, Dervish Sanders", the demon growled angrily. While Dervish Sanders was fleet of foot, the enormous demon took long strides, easily keeping pace. Things certainly appeared hopeless.

"You can have the Sapphire", Dervish exclaimed, giving up.

"That is a very wise decision, Sanders", the demon growled. "I am a reasonable fellow. All I want is the Sapphire. Hand it over and you may go in peace".

"OK", a defeated Dervish Sanders relented. "Let me retrieve it for you", Dervish said, reaching into his pocket. The Guardian extended his demonic hand, ready to accept the Sapphire. Dervish saw his chance and took it. He leapt onto the Guardian's open palm, then launched himself toward the demon's chest.

Dervish Sanders, using the Sapphire as a dagger, plunged it into the demon's bosom. The Sapphire shattered, completely destroyed. The demon staggered.

"You have killed me!" the surprised Guardian exclaimed. The demon shifted form, becoming an old man once again. Then he shriveled up and turned into dust.

"I did not believe for one second that you would have let me leave in peace", Dervish retorted, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Though I'm not sure how I knew that the Sapphire could kill a demon".

A beautiful woman appeared suddenly out of nowhere.

"I subconsciously imparted the knowledge to you", the woman whispered. "Oh, and you are correct, the demon would not have let you leave in peace. He wished to consume you, thus transferring to him the ability to see the threads of fate".

"Who are you?" an astonished Dervish Sanders implored.

"I am the Sapphire Lady", the woman in flowing purple robes replied. "I have been trapped within the Sapphire for many eons. You have lost the wisdom of the universe, but I have gained my freedom".

Dervish Sanders and Sapphire Lady returned to Dervish's camp. As they sat beside the fire, warming their bodies, the Lady expressed her gratitude.

"I thank thee for freeing me", she said, removing her robes, then unbuttoning her blouse. Soon she was shimming out of her dress and panties. She removed her bra and stood nude before Dervish Sanders. The Lady was astonishingly beautiful. Dervish found himself breathless.

The Lady's full breasts swayed ever so slightly as she crouched before Dervish Sanders. Then she started to undo his belt buckle.

"No, my Lady, that is not necessary", Dervish Sanders demurred, removing the Lady's hands from his belt.

"I insist", the Lady replied. "I desire very much to give you oral pleasure".

And so Dervish Sanders allowed the Lady to fellate his manhood.

Dervish Sanders returned the favor, smashing his face in between her legs as they 69ed. The lady squealed in euphoric elation as she climaxed. They also did it missionary, doggy style, and in the butt.

The Biographer: Thus ends the tale of Dervish Sanders and the Sapphire of Serendipity. I hope you enjoyed this one. There are many more tales to tell, but I will leave those for another day. If you are interested in hearing any more, that is.


Belial Shaytan assumes his demonic form.

 swtd-421. dsa-5.  Analysis. Previous. Next.

Dervish Sanders Attains The Wisdom Of The Universe

Dervish Sanders: So far you've told me three tales of Dervish Sanders, all of which I found enjoyable. Do you have any more to tell? I appreciated the last one in which Dervish Sanders took the innocence of a sex-starved lass. With her permission, of course. Can you relate to me any adventures in which Dervish Sanders bangs wenches?

The Biographer: I'm glad you enjoyed the 3 tales of Dervish Sanders I have so far related. Here's another one for you.

In the land of whispers and shifting sands, Dervish Sanders embarked on a quest unlike any other. With a heart full of courage and a mind as sharp as the scimitar at his side, he sought the legendary Sapphire of Serendipity, a gem said to grant its holder the wisdom of the universe.

The journey was fraught with peril, through treacherous ravines and over mountains that scraped the belly of the sky. Dervish faced challenges that tested his resolve -- puzzles that twisted the mind, creatures that defied the laws of nature, and illusions that threatened to lead him astray.

Yet, with every step, Dervish's legend grew. He outwitted the Sphinx of Syllogisms, whose riddles could turn a man's thoughts to knots. He tamed the Chimera of Chaos, a beast with the roar of thunder and a heart of turmoil. And he navigated the Labyrinth of Lore, a maze so intricate it was said to be the very thoughts of the gods made manifest.

At last, he stood before the Sapphire of Serendipity, its azure glow illuminating the cavern's heart. As he reached out, the gem's light surged, and Dervish was filled with visions of worlds beyond his own, of knowledge ancient and vast. The Sapphire had deemed him worthy, and from that day forth, Dervish Sanders was not just a wanderer, but a sage whose insights would guide generations to come.

And so, the tale of Dervish Sanders continues, a story woven into the fabric of the cosmos, reminding us that the pursuit of knowledge is the noblest adventure of all.

Dervish Sanders: OK. But I asked for a tale in which Dervish Sanders bangs wenches. The story you just told didn't mention anything about how many women Dervish Sanders has given sexual pleasure to.

The Biographer: That's quite a risqué request. But if you insist on hearing about the sexual exploits of Dervish Sanders, I can tell you he railed many beautiful females. Also some average looking ones. All with their consent, of course.

After attaining the wisdom of the universe, Dervish Sanders was in need of some rest and relaxation. Sultan Quillen Qasim Fiallo, ruler of the Royal City of Nasaf, invited Dervish Sanders to his palace. In return for imparting some of his great wisdom, the Sultan offered Dervish Sanders access to his harem. Dervish Sanders agreed, but on the condition he would have sexual intercourse only with women who consented.

Sultan Fiallo smiled. "You are a very noble man. Also very respectful of the fairer sex. I assure you, that will not be a problem. My harem is very large. There are many women who have not been with a man for months, if ever. I know there are dozens who will be very eager to be ravished by such a renowned adventurer as Dervish Sanders".

And so it was agreed. Dervish Sanders shared some of his vast wisdom with Sultan Fiallo by day. During the evenings he engaged in wild orgies with women from the Sultan's harem. And, yes, they eagerly consented to extended hours of carnal delights with Dervish Sanders. This continued for many weeks until Dervish Sanders decided it was time to move on.

"The road calls to me", Dervish Sanders explained, his heart filled with wanderlust. The maidens he had given sexual pleasure to begged him not to leave.

"I have never known such ecstasy prior to lying with you, Dervish Sanders", one fair beauty lamented, tears in her eyes. A number of the women similarly appeared to be on the verge of tears.

And so Dervish Sanders relented, eventually staying at the Sultan's palace for many months.

The Biographer: Did those additional details satisfy your request?

Dervish Sanders: Sure. Although I don't think any of the women in that tale could be called a wench.

The Biographer: I apologize. As per the Merriam Webster dictionary, a wench is "either a female servant or a tavern wench". A wench could also be "a girl or woman of a socially low class".

Perhaps I can relate to you another tale of Dervish Sanders in which the adventurer and sage bangs some bar wenches? I am certain he has encountered many such women (all craving to be banged by the legendary Dervish Sanders) during his many exploits.

Dervish Sanders: OK. But I think we can stick a pin in that for now.

The Biographer: Certainly! Get back to me when you're ready to delve deeper into the adventures of Dervish Sanders.



 swtd-420. dsa-4.  Analysis. Previous. Next.

The Enigmatic Journey of Dervish Sanders

Dervish Sanders: As my biographer, I assume you have many more tales you can tell concerning my adventures? May I hear another?

The Biographer: Surely. Let's return to the tale of Dervish Sanders. This one is called "The Enigmatic Journey of Dervish Sanders".

Dervish Sanders was an enigma -- a man of paradoxes. His existence straddled the realms of the ordinary and the extraordinary. In the bustling markets of Cairo, he haggled over spices and silks, his eyes sharp as falcon's talons. Yet, when the moon hung low, he would slip away, disappearing into the desert like a mirage.

His cloak, a patchwork quilt of memories, whispered secrets. Each tear held a story -- a stolen kiss in Marrakech, a duel at dawn in Baghdad, a whispered prophecy in Timbuktu. The townspeople spoke of him in hushed tones, their gazes shifting from reverence to fear.

Dervish Sanders had no fixed abode. He wandered, a nomad of the soul, seeking answers to questions unasked. His staff, gnarled and weathered, bore witness to countless miles -- the dust of forgotten cities clinging to its grain.

One moonless night, beneath the ancient olive tree near the oasis, a weary traveler approached Dervish Sanders.

"Tell me", the traveler implored, "what lies beyond the horizon? Is there a map to the stars?"

Dervish Sanders smiled, revealing teeth like polished pebbles. "The map", he said, "is etched in the lines of your palm, the constellations of your heart. But beware -- the path is treacherous".

He traced a finger across the traveler's palm, deciphering fate's code. "You seek love", he murmured. "A love that transcends borders, defies logic. Follow the scent of jasmine to the hidden garden, where time dances backward".

And so, the traveler set forth, guided by Dervish Sanders's cryptic words. Through shifting dunes and forgotten ruins, across rivers that whispered forgotten names, The Seeker journeyed. At the garden's heart, beneath a weeping willow, they found her -- a young lass with beautiful round bosoms and a pert derrière.

But love, as Dervish Sanders knew, was a riddle. The Seeker's heart swayed like a compass needle, torn between earthly desires and cosmic longing. And so, they sat with the maiden, listening to the rustle of leaves, the ancient murmur of the willow.

At her invitation, Dervish Sanders and The Seeker proceeded to tag team the maiden, satisfying her fleshly desires. The sex-starved lass moaned in ecstasy as Dervish and The Seeker took turns pleasuring her for many hours.

As the sun descended in the sky, Dervish Sanders departed, his cloak blending with the shadows. "Choose wisely", he told The Seeker. "For love, like the desert sands, shifts with the wind".

As The Seeker's heart wove its own tale, Dervish Sanders vanished once more, leaving behind only footprints in the sand -- a map to the stars, a legacy of whispers.

There you have it -- the tale of Dervish Sanders, a wanderer who danced on the edge of reality. And participated in many 3-ways, though most of them with 2 women. If you seek more stories or have other inquiries, feel free to ask!

 swtd-419. dsa-3.  Analysis. Previous. Next.

Dervish Sanders Enters The Dreamweaver's Labyrinth

Dervish Sanders: I am intrigued by the concept of a Biographer telling stories about the famed adventurer, Dervish Sanders, one of my counterparts. Do you have any more stories to tell about this Dervish Sanders?

The Biographer: Certainly! Let me share another captivating tale of Dervish Sanders, a wanderer whose footsteps echoed through both reality and dreams. The Dreamweaver's Labyrinth is another tale about the renowned adventurer, Dervish Sanders.

In the heart of Marrakech, where the scent of saffron mingled with the call to prayer, Dervish Sanders found himself drawn to an ancient bazaar. The stalls overflowed with spices, carpets, and secrets whispered by the wind. One day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Dervish Sanders encountered an old carpet merchant named Hasan. Hasan's eyes held the wisdom of centuries, and his hands bore the stains of countless dyes. He beckoned Dervish Sanders to sit on a threadbare rug.

"Listen", Hasan implored, "for I weave more than carpets. I weave dreams".

Dervish Sanders leaned in, intrigued. "Dreams?"

Hasan nodded. "Each thread", he explained, "is a fragment of a dream -- a memory, a longing, a forgotten promise. When the moon graces the sky, I enter the Dreamweaver's Labyrinth".

"The Labyrinth?" Dervish Sanders asked.

"It lies beyond the veil", Hasan replied. "A place where reality and imagination entwine. There, I unravel the threads, seeking lost souls and untold stories".

Dervish Sanders's curiosity burned. "Can I enter this Labyrinth?"

Hasan's eyes twinkled. "Only those who carry both hope and sorrow may pass. And beware -- the Labyrinth tests your resolve".

That night, guided by moonlight and the echo of distant flutes, Dervish Sanders stepped into the Dreamweaver's Labyrinth. The air shimmered with iridescent threads, each leading to a different dream. He followed a silver strand that whispered of forgotten love. It led him to a courtyard where jasmine bloomed. There, a veiled woman danced -- a celestial maiden with eyes like galaxies. Her laughter wove constellations.

"Who are you?" Dervish Sanders asked.

She twirled, her gown trailing stardust. "I am Ayla", she answered. "A dream forgotten by time. Seek the lost verses of the nightingale, and you'll find me".

Dervish Sanders journeyed deeper, encountering dreams of lost cities, forbidden libraries, and forgotten oaths. He collected fragments -- a tear shed by a poet, a sigh from a fallen king. Finally, he reached the heart of the Labyrinth -- a chamber of mirrors. Each reflected a different version of himself -- past, present, and future. In one mirror, he saw Ayla, waiting.

"Choose", whispered the mirrors. "Dream or reality?"

Dervish Sanders hesitated. Could he leave the Labyrinth with Ayla, forsaking the waking world? But then he remembered Hasan's words, "hope and sorrow".

He stepped back, choosing both. The mirrors shattered, merging dream and reality. Ayla stepped through, her hand in his. Together, they wove a new tapestry -- one that spanned realms. Dervish Sanders became a Dreamweaver, stitching together stories, love, and longing.

And so, in the heart of Marrakech, the old carpet merchant smiled. "You've found your thread", Hasan said. "Now weave". And Dervish Sanders did -- dreams into reality, and reality into dreams. May the threads of your own journey lead you to wondrous places, dear traveler.

Dervish Sanders: Is that story copyrighted, or can I have it?

The Biographer: The story I provided is an original creation based on your life and not copyrighted. You are welcome to use it freely! If you have any other requests or need further assistance, feel free to ask.



 swtd-418. dsa-2.  Analysis. Previous. Next.