Powers of Sorcery

I go through the pockets of my clothing and my belt pouches and "cargo bandoleer" quickly looking for items which can be of use. Not much there: a few packages of herbs and other items, some faintly glowing vials of strange liquid that I can't identify, though the glow warns me they're magical; a couple of daggers, one of them clearly enchanted because of its rune marked blade and faint red aura; and about 16 Gil in loose change: made up of 111 Copper, 36 silver, 2 gold, and 1 Platinum coins. Just when I start to worry I come upon a small jar of butter, and this triggers a memory fragment: I am a sorcerer, and I know a spell called "Grease" which can make the woman's leather armor slick. allowing her to perhaps wriggle free.

"I think I have a plan miss, how good are you at dislodging yourself from being restrained by enemy combatants?" I ask, and she looks at me funny but then answers the question.

"I would say I am fair, what did you have in mind?" She asks in return.

"I am going to cast 'Grease' on your armor, the tree, and the ground. That should make the area slippery enough for you to wriggle free," I explain and then smack my forehead. "I apologize, how rude of me! My name and profession is Nemo of Utopia: Prodigal Sorcerer; what are yours?" I ask extending a hand.

"I um," the woman looks distraught for a moment, then conflicted, "I, I, I..." she stammers before lapsing into silence.

"You can't remember, can you?" I ask and she looks shocked.

"How did you know that?" is all she can manage.

"Because I couldn't remember my name either," I explain, as kindly as I can.

"Oh, OH! Well, um, I guess you can call me Jane Doe for now, and if we are going to try this trick with the grease I think we should do it now," Jane says, and I fit word to deed.

Carefully orienting the greased areas I make sure she can find purchase to push and with a wriggling squirm she pops herself out from under the tree.

"Thank you Nemo, I am glad you came along, I could have died there, starvation and thirst, a bad way to go," she halts and looks me over carefully, "How long did it take you to remember your name?" Jane asks.

"I haven't, 'Nemo of Utopia' means 'No-One of Nowhere'..." I explain gently.

"Okay, well then 'No-One of Nowhere' where are we heading next?" Jane asks, and I have to think about that for a moment.