Generations of eager postmen dressed in stiff uniforms have attempted to track down the addressee named Rogue, but found no one. This is greatly annoying. Mail always reaches its destination.
The letter goes as follows:
So you've finally lost your mind! Don't worry, all is going according to my plan (doesn't it always!). But it's a good thing I have the clever insight to write this little letter of ours, isn't it, good friend? Don't tell any of the others, this will be our little secret.
For now, stay wary of the scarred one, who is probably one of "the fine companions" at this moment. We need him yet, so don't create a mess with anything stupid, bone-box-head.
Watch the post office, I will be sending something of interest later on. Ah, HE at the door already again, time to pack up! Run and run we do.
Your friend, Rogue.
The something of interest referred to in the letter has already arrived at the Harbat post office, albeit some three years ago. In error, it was delivered to a man named very similarly.
To uncover this, the person named Rogue would first have to be able to identify himself with a valid document - that's the way with bonded packages in Harbat. Such document can be obtained from Harbat - the office Then the postmen would need some sort of proof as well, something like a finger. In the backroom they have a jar holding a severed finger.The package is stained with blood of a severed finger. It is only logical that the man claiming to be Rogue offers them a severed finger they can compare with his other severed finger. The strange package holds a ragged and dirty cloak. When you wear it, people seem to ignore you, you become like a shadow, invisible.