Councilor Sparklegem, Thanks to your invitation, I find myself the benefit of the dubious honor of applying for a position of public service. You may consider this letter an official statement of intent, and should the council wish, I will field any questions you have about my history, ethics, competency, or beliefs. However, there are a few things you should know about myself regarding the above subjects that should allow you to judge whether I am a canidate worth investigating for the office of Caretaker of the Mausoleum.
Unlike most of these aspirants you have to this grim office, I am no man of clergy. Rest assured I am no faithless, and while I can offer prayers in the most sweet and poetic prose, no god fills me with his divine will. As a profession, I am a dirge singer. I perform funerals, and no, this was not the profession I would have chosen given the choice, but surely as a public servant, you can understand the neccessity of someone seeing to such a morbid task. I am not desperate for this position, which should also differentiate me for good or ill. Because of this, I am a man of the utmost detachment when it comes to ordinary affairs. I was taught a rule that all people die in the end, on both sides of every battle, among every race, every day, in every way. In this way, I am an objective man that picks few sides, except the side of the living as a whole. I believe such nuetrality would be a service to the office.
On the other hand, I am not afraid to upset people. I was forced to study the art of intrigue, and it has left me with a casual contempt for certain sort of politics. I do not tolerate the defilement of the dead. I do not pretend it's ok. I do not pretend to turn a blind eye to it to avenge it later. And I do not pretend that those who do turn a blind eye may be trusted. It grieves me that I've already sacrificed friends for my beliefs, but this too I believe, serves the office. I promise such service, no crusades, no battles, no assassinations, and no skull duggery, but I promise service to all, despite my own personal reservations.
Heroes, villains, thieves, liars, scholars, politicians, gangsters, warriors, lovers, fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, and us, we share the gift of mortality, and thus all will require good care when their time comes. I will not force my services on anyone, but barring those who indulge in vulgar forms of necromancy and flirting with the undead, I will not deny my services to anyone. Even a man who held a sword to my throat. Especially the man who held a sword to my throat.
Karlston Brass