Mortal!!!!

Simon arrives back on the physical plane of humans with nothing but his swords and armour. No memories, no power,no natural abilities and no name. He survived in the wilderness on instinct alone. Trapping and killing his meals at his need. He faught off two groups of bandits both instances nearly taking his life.

It was this second group of bandits that changed his life. In thier posessions he found a simple storybook searching for bandages for his wounds. Once he managed to dress his chest and side stopping the bloodloss he finished looting and found shelted away from the carnage.

That night he ate the rations he pilaged next to a fire he had started and read the book. It was a book of fantasy but it seemed to stike a cord in him. The book was about a traveling woman who healed people at her every stop. It was not the story that meant anything to him but what the story was written upon and the bindings that protected it. The book became more important to him then anything he had.

Proving to himself his decisions where truth, he sold his swords and armour in the next town trading them for simply robes, scrolls, scroll cases and the necessities of scribing. Simon then set of traveling and writing everything he saw, learned and thought to the many blank pages of books and scrolls. At villiges and towns he logged stories he over heard in the taverns. It took a month of work but the pages filled. Simon told these stories now on his many stops. A traveling storyteller moving fromone place to another soon aquiring so many books and scrolls he purchased a wagon pulled by four stout horses.

Simon did not tell his stories for fortune or fame but traded for various things to write into more books. From what herbs where used to make medicines to local lore and ghost stories. Even more suprising to most people he wrote out family lineage as payment having dozens of family geneology alone.

He would only spend three days in any town or village before he moved on. Never traveling with caravans nor with other. Always by himself with his horses and books as company. There was never a rumour of him nor did anyone think twice of him once he was gone, his stories just memories. Never telling his name being he had non since his banishment to the world of mortals.

His traveling went on for only three years finding fewer and fewer places to go. He never went to the same place twice so when Simon arrived at an ocean he sold his every posession but a handfull of books and the clothes on his back. Baught passage on a ship to take him accross the sea to another kingdom to start again.

The ships voyage lasted four months. In this time Simon learned a great deal of seamenship. It was enough to fill two books with what he had leaned. Other then this the voyage went uneventful thoughout the days.

Leaving the ship he made his way across th next ocean he came across, this one of sand. Simon never made it out of that port city as he expected to. He wound up in an inn for near a month. Having nearly died being bitten by a poisonous snake. He used various salves and herbs to break his fever and heal the wound writing in a book of what he had used so as not to forget the next time. He stayed around just long enough to learn the basic survival skills needed to cross the vast desert. In that time he managed to also learn some of the native tongue.

Buying more horses and a chariot, a wagon not suited for desert travel, he loaded up the modified chariot full of books, scrolls and supplies he needed and set out to cross the sea of shifting sands. Since he knew not fluently the language of this land he told no stories but continued to write only now the stories he created where of his own mind.

Not three weeks from port and only five towns left behind him a sandstorm rose from nothing and buried him and his horses in four feet of sand. Surviving only due to the over turned cariot and the pocket of air it created he took the time needed to dig himself free of the sand. On foot now, in the desert of extreme heat and cold and surrounded by rolling swells of sand was not exactly what he had had in mind when heleft the port city. Walking day and night for two days he finally lost conciousness to wake the next night in a small room cut out of solid stone. He was found and braught to a large town with no idenity he was fitted with collar and shackles. He survived the desert sands just to find himself enslaved among people he did not know and a language he couldnt yet speak.