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Ideas for a fantasy novel. I like the traditional idea of the scribe that goes along on an adventure and documents it. I see Tomas as changing into another person during the journey, not perhaps, a better person.

Tomas, a copywriter in the famous library of Gliktar was a man desperately unhappy with his existence. In the century-old main hall of the cavernous copying room he would stare up at the ornate ceiling, carvings of impossible, tentacled demons wrapped around forgotten heroes that were seemingly chopping them off like a scythe cuts through ripe wheat. There had been debate for hundreds of years about the carvings, many believed them to be simply a lost myth reimagined in wood, but others, the magicians mainly, claimed there really was a world of tentacled demons, and they had glimpsed them when travelling between worlds. No one believed them, no creatures had ever come from another world in living memory. Still, Tomas stared at the demons daily and wished he lived in a world where such things were possible.

He moved in his seat, pulling a pained face. Why copywriters couldn’t sit in comfortable seats was something that he simply didn’t understand. The hardest wood from the forests of Dintorwal were used, as they always had been, for the benches and desks used in the library. Like so much else in Gliktar, tradition was not to be changed under any circumstances.

A thousand years ago the Seth had come from no-one knows where, in a navy of warships never seen again in all the worlds. Fleeing some unspeakable terror from their home lands they fled as one across the seas and swarmed over the city of Gliktar, slaughtering every man, woman and child, so that none of that original race now remained and no one even know what colour their skin was. The Seth were a dark, red colour, unlike any others this side of Dintorwal. In fact, the Seth were so different to the rest of the known world that they couldn’t mate with any other race, which made them (to some people) arrogant of their place in the world and purity of their race.

Tomas cared little for the purity of his race. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in a mug of wine. He looked at his pile of papers, still many hours work ahead of him before he could leave for the day, claim his coins, and see the outside world once more.