My dear, dear public:

I know it is rather bad form to break the fourth wall, but I am sure that we can all agree that if anyone should be capable of doing it, it is me. After all, I am the Hero of Skill, and more importantly, I am Reaver. I have never met a hurdle I could not either leap over or utterly destroy—without mussing a hair on my very well-groomed head, I might add. I have built an empire on the broken backs of the embarrassingly less talented, I have secured immortality (in more ways than one), and I have done it all in style. It comes as no surprise to me that I have become the subject of so many salacious stories—in fact, I welcome it. I am my favorite subject, after all, and if you are in any way familiar with me, I am probably one of yours, as well.

After publishing Reaver on Reaver and buying every copy of the first run, myself, in order to create an even greater demand for the second (as anyone with good business sense and the pockets to prove it would), I was positively inundated with requests from aspiring biographers who wanted to know exactly what makes me tick. That is a simple question with an answer that is much less complicated than you might imagine. As a matter of fact, all Heroic bloodline rubbish aside, I am not so different from the most successful men of your history's annals. I understand, as they did, that power—much like life—must be seized. It does not simply come to you, even if you are as well-endowed with nature's gifts as I. You cannot simply sit back and wait for your opportune moment. You must create it…or, alternately, take it from someone else. For more on that, see Peter David's short story Fable: Reaver, which is a bloody good read and an accurate documentation of one of my greatest coups. I enjoy flipping through it, myself, now and again, when I wish to relive that glorious triumph.

At any rate, enough about dear Peter's genius. Let us get back to me, and how you, my little loves, might best write me. You did ask, after all, and I am feeling rather generous today.

Firstly! I am not precisely a villain, though even I must admit that my doings are less than charitable at best and beyond description at worst. I rather think I am more of an anti-hero. I realize that semantics are a bore, but as writers, you must make yourselves acquainted with them. Or…not. I really could not care less, actually. But, do not mistake my cavalier attitude for a lack of intelligence. I daresay I am one of the most intelligent people in Albion. I simply have far more interesting things to occupy my mind than most people do. I am an admirer of the arts, and of culture—and in point of fact, I like to slip a bit of French into my discourses to spice them up for my own amusement and to confound the ignorant. There are few things more intimidating than an agile mind—particularly when combined with a handsome face, a perfect body, and a legendary pistol (none of which I am shy about using in any way I see fit).

I am a progressive man. My longevity has given me great insight into the absolute futility of struggling to lead a conservative, morally-stringent life. I have seen too many paragons fall from their pedestals to believe that that way of life has anything to offer me. In fact, there is probably no man alive today with a better understanding of the mind of man than I. That has proven to be a very valuable asset to me, as the manipulation of others is vital to my own success. I am a social engineer of sorts, after all. I come, I see, I conquer, I enjoy. So long as it does not infringe on my pleasure, I see no reason why others should not do the same.

I do not like to dwell on the past, however. It is far better to look into the future, for there are always new and exciting ways to savor what life has to offer people like me. For that reason, though I never say no to a good, solid dose of self-indulgence, I do not allow myself to become truly indolent. I am easily bored, and I cannot abide boredom, particularly in the company of others. There is absolutely no excuse for being uninteresting. It is damaging to society as a whole. My temper is quite short when it comes to that sort of thing, and I do not spare the rod…or the gun. But I do it all with a smile, because even when doling out punishment, I find the pleasurable side in nearly everything. You can, you know, if you simply try. Some call it sadism—I call it practicality. I say, the simpler the solution to an annoying problem, the better!

And now, my little pets, I invite you to take this knowledge and apply it! I shall be watching with great interest to see what your nimble little minds can create. To those of you who are more inclined to read than to write, I also have advice. How lucky for you! I suggest you take it if you wish to continue to be entertained. Not everyone has my self-assurance. In art, as in the budoir, people require a bit of a boost now and then in order to keep their creative juices flowing. If you simply ravish them and run, do not expect to receive another invitation. It is all about a balance of giving and taking, my loves, and if their fingers had the strength to flesh out a delicious chapter about my incredibly complex life, surely yours have the strength to give them a line or two of feedback. It is common decency, something even I, the least common of men, can understand.

At the end of the day, in the colorful world of your imaginations, I am more than happy to be anything you want…and you will love me more than you love yourselves.

Tatty-bye!

R.

For more Reaver from his own point of view, check out my Fable-fic, My Other Name, and if you enjoy it, let me know!