Hello.

It wasn't a voice. That much Nob was certain of. It was more as if... there was suddenly a word, written on the fabric of his mind. Which was strange, because he couldn't read very well, only enough to pick out his name and a few other things. But that was the best way he could have described how he knew that someone was... talking to him. If talking was the right word.

Hello, I said.

Again with the feeling of words on a page, but there was no paper and there was no ink and there was no way that someone could be talking to him, because he was alone in the little room that he called his own. There wasn't anyone there to be talking to him.

Are you a simpleton, or are you trying to convince yourself that you cannot hear me?

"What th' bleedin' 'ell...?"

Well, not precisely. I do not bleed, and I am not from hell. Come on, boy, I know you can hear me.

"There's no one 'ere. 'm goin' crazy. Stark ravin' nutters."

No. You are not. I assure you, I am no hallucination. I am quite real.

Well. If he was imagining things, it wouldn't be using words that he didn't know, right? How could his own mind come up with words like that... hall-oo-sin-ay-shun thing?

"Whassat?"

A hallucination?

"Yeah. That."

A hallucination is the apparent perception of sights and sounds and such that are not actually there. I repeat, I am not one. I am quite real, and very much here, even if you cannot see me. Of course, technically, you cannot hear me either, but it is much too complicated to explain to you exactly what it is that I am doing.

"Stop usin' fancy-arse words like 'at. What's a hall-oo-sin-ay-shun an' what's per-sep-shun mean?"

I just /told/ you what a hallucination is. Perception - and here there was almost a feeling that the word was written out very clearly and neatly, as if the speaker (writer?) was making certain that his audience was certain of the word - is what you perceive, and perceive means to observe, or perhaps to see or hear, in this case.

"How come ya couldn't jest say that, then? An' how come yer talkin' t'me anyroad?"

That is also complicated. In the simplest words possible... I need a body.

"Ya what now!?"

I need a body... though it might be more accurate to say that I want one, since I do exist quite independently of anything merely physical - a pause, as if the writer (speaker?) was thinking of what to say next - Please understand, I am not asking you to give up your body to me. I would not know the first thing to do with it, without your help. I would like you to allow me to... share it with you. After a fashion.

Nob sat there for a minute or two, staring blankly at nothing in particular, then finally asked, "An' what do I get outta this?"

Knowledge?

"Na good 'nough."

Why not? It has always been my experience that you humans are insatiable for knowledge of all kinds.

"Will't get me glim?"

... Glim?

"Money. Gold. Cash."

Ah. It could, if you use it properly.

"Whassat t'me? I get along fine."

Mhmm. You live in a rundown inn, barely pay your rent, and from what I can tell, your clothing is not in terribly good shape either. And is that not a bruise on your shoulder? Find yourself up against someone too big for you, did you?

"No business of yourn.... How'd ya know 'twas there, tho'?"

There was the sense of an embarrassed cough.

Well... I am... in a sense... inside your skin with you. Not in possession or anything, mind, but I cannot talk to you through any other means. I have not touched anything but the parts of your mind that I need to for you to hear me. I can feel your shoulder aching.

"What!? Get outta my ‘ead!"

Please listen to me. With me, you would not have to worry about situations like whatever it was that gave you the bruise. I can talk you out of them. When I have a voice, I fancy I could talk a king out of his crown.

"... 'm listening."

It is nothing particularly special. I simply lend your voice something of a hypnotic quality. Humans tend to listen and believe.

"What else?"

Well, I have been many places, seen many things. I could tell you if something is valuable without your having to risk taking it to someone who might turn you in. If you host me, I will do as much to protect your body as you would. I like having flesh.

"How 'zactly does't work?"

I take possession of a small corner of your mind that you do not use. Imagine yourself, for the moment, as a sort of house, with many rooms that all serve different functions. There are a few that you have never entered, because you do not know how or do not have the key. You, for instance, have no magical potential at all, but the 'room' is still there. I can use those empty, unused spaces in your mind. I see through your eyes, feel what you feel, hear what you hear. And unless you want me to be otherwise, I am only an observer.

"Thet... soun's awf'ly easy. Wha's the catch?"

There is none. I only want to experience. Life as a disembodied spirit is rather dull.

"So... ya wanna live in m'head, an' tha's all?"

Yes.

"An' 'f I get inna tough spot, y'll help me out o' it?"

Yes.

"Guess ya better get comf'rt'ble, then."

Thank you.

"So... y'got a name?"

You may call me Rickard.