Rhykal turns at the sound of footsteps, reflexive tension transforming to a flicker of undisguised relief at the corner of her mouth, a feeling that surprises her in its intensity; she breathes a slow exhale, jaw loosening, as she rises from her seat. “You made it,” she says—all of them, which is somehow more than she had hoped, recently. From the moment she had found herself caught in yet another web, she had feared—well, no matter: the path she'd worn between front door and parlor could keep that history to itself. “So, your … humble new abode is probably haunted by dark spirits, apparently won’t let us escape its vicinity once we’ve seen it, but might house some mysterious Darklord whose death could result in our freedom from this domain. And if we can free ourselves from it, the doctor over there might be able to find us information about how to escape these … domains of dread altogether.” She glances at Miralen, briefly, as if to invite any further essential summary Rhykal herself has not immediately volunteered in this unexpected rush of emotion she's working to bury.
"Escape from Barovia?" Svetlana says nothing, but, without fully realizing it, she assumes a deeply incredulous expression, while raising an eyebrow "This 'doctor' is lying... He is probably trying to deceive my poor companions in misfortune for his own personal purposes. Perhaps to motivate them further in cleansing his haunted house - from which he probably can't escape either. But as soon as we solve his problem, he will disappear quickly... unless he has other plans in which he intends to deceive us into risking our life, sanity or soul in his place..."
The last of the Dusk Elf maidens continues to examine the paintings for now - perhaps some clues about the family that owns this house could also reveal something about this mysterious (and probably lying) 'doctor'...
"Ah, good day," Rufus says stiffly to the white-haired gentleman, as even being trapped in a domain and dread cannot erase the trappings of good manners ingrained in him. "I am Rufus van Hildegoath, of House van Hildegoath of Daggerford, son of Cornelius van Hildegoath, though he rest in peace, and his ladywife, my mother, Winifred van Hildegoath."
As the man is none too interested in introductions, and walks straight out of the room, Rufus turns back to Miralen and Rhykal. "Well, thank the spheres you're alright. We didn't know what had become of you after you ran off into the fog. Reckless! tsk tsk. At any rate, here we are..."
Rufus listens to Rhykal's explanation. Supernatural, unbelievable, preposterous. And yet, no stranger than anything else they have experienced. Rufus is beginning to wonder if he is losing his mind and this is all a hallucination, but he doesn't voice that concern. One can hardly look to their own hallucinations for confirmation of reality, after all. So what good would it do?
"So..." he says slowly, trying to repeat the incredible information. "This manor is home to haunts and spirits who seek to hold us prisoner? But there is a darklord of this domain and, if we kill him, we may be released? Yes, of course, perfectly rational." Rufus says this last part half-heartedly as he claims a seat at the table, rubbing his temples. His crossbow rests in his lap. "And what of the planchette?"
It’s frankly almost reassuring to witness their own disbelief; she’s spent most of the last thirty minutes so thoroughly caught in her own wariness that she feels the set of her shoulders loosen, just barely, to see it reflected. It’s a feeling quickly undone when she’s met with Rufus telling her off; that she meets with folded arms, a steady gaze, and a skeptically raised brow, gaze dropping pointedly to her sword, as if to suggest she, at least, feels quite comfortable with her capacity to defend herself. Never mind that she had been entirely uncertain about the decision since she’d made it; anyone else making the very same accusation renders that reality moot. “Yes, it certainly looks like we made it to the same place,” she remarks, dryly.
After a moment, she adds, refocusing: “But, yes — something like that. The doctor claims to be equally trapped from one the other … domains — calls himself a ‘mist wanderer,’ or something, who’d been on his way to Barovia in search of his own answers before being dragged here. He seems to think the ... planchette is a match for the house's spirit board, a way to communicate with whatever's haunting it. But whatever he is or isn't, since it’s this … deeply cursed land that’s drawn us here, ‘be prepared for bad things’ seems like a given.” She stands a little straighter, like — maybe the possibility of fighting against something has granted her renewed vigor, or maybe like she’s trying to project a very specific image, or maybe a little bit of both.
A gaze upon the portraits and paintings decorating these rooms grants you a view of a few lordly types. No faces of which you recognize. One painting shows a beautiful dark castle. Another is a happy couple: a man and woman embracing each other in a warm hug. In the parlor, there are several stacked books and documents messily organized. it appears to be research material for the doctor.
The older gentlemen hears the discourse in the room and appears to do a double take, switching briefly back from his book to the party. "Ahem... if you don't mind, an old man needs his focus. whilst I do my research, perhaps you all can find some answers throughout the rest of the house... please, close the door behind you."
The last of the Dusk Elf maidens carefully studies the faces of the couple, imagining that they could be the hosts - faces that perhaps she will have to see again in some ghost, it seems, given the premises; that's why she wants to be able to recognize them.
"They seem like a happy couple here..." Svetlana murmurs, perhaps unaware of having given voice to her thoughts "In their embrace there are the roots of happiness. Who knows what happened that caused the tree to wither and die".
At the Doctor's words, the Savage Wanderer sarcastically invites the others: "Come on, fellow trapped... be good guests... Leave the one who is studying alone... You don't want to waste his time, right? With everything he has to do..."
Svetlana approaches a door: "If we are to explore this place, we have to start somewhere. Shall we take a look behind this door?" she points to the first door on the left immediately after the main entrance.
Rufus's eyes glide around the room, taking in the portraits. Considering what they've been told, he can't decide if the paintings are a mask, pretty decorations obscuring something ugly beneath, or whether the portraits' inhabitants are simply part of the unnerving wholeness of this place. Regardless, he can't help but compare the home to his own, dilapidated and sullen. Hildegoath House hasn't its works of art any longer--they were sold for grain money, save for those that Cornelius had defaced. Rufus had found several ruined paintings in the home's attic--all portraits containing his father's likeness. Rufus has long wondered what his father saw in the paintings of himself that had driven the patriarch to slash them so. And in such a violent manner! As though an enormous clawed hand had raked its nails through the canvas...
Breaking from his reverie when the professor speaks, Rufus raises an eyebrow at the others, silently beckoning them to follow. He takes to his feet and follows Svetlana back into the parlor. He can't help but take a look at the research notes laid out, as a researcher himself. What is this man studying?
"Certainly," he agrees with Svetlana. "This door appears as good as any other. Let us proceed."
With all of the rest of the group arriving, Miralen is immensely relieved. Listening while Rhykal gives a quick explanation to them of what we've recently discovered, she adds, "... also, the planchette we found left behind in the woods, it goes to this spirit board here. So the doctor thinks we can communicate with the spirits Rhykal is referring to." Leaving the planchette on the table for the doctor and his studies, Miralen follows the group out, to investigate the rest of the house.
"Okay..." the Last of the Dusk Elf maidens prepares, short sword in hand, to open the door "Let's begin then... I'm sure there's no need recommending you, given the place where we are, to be ready for anything".
"And you?" the Voices in her head intervene "Are are you ready for anything, Svetlana?" "Horror has many faces in Barovia..." "...some of which are unsuspected, until it's too late!" "But we are with you, Svetlana!" "You can always count on us. You are not alone."
A bittersweet smile spreads across the Savage Wanderer's features. The Voices often steal her privacy, her intimacy, her peace... She fears that one day they may also steal her mind. But when their feelings all harmonize on the same wavelength, the strength of those combined emotion pervades her... like now, when she feels cradled by the moral support of all those poor massacred elf maidens, a comfort that gives her warmth, making her forget for a moment the cold rain she was exposed to until recently, and gives her determination.
As soon as her adventure companions are ready, Svetlana carefully lowers the handle and opens the door...
Part of Rhykal finds herself hoping for something behind the door; as she moves closer toward it, following the others in its direction, she rests a hand on the hilt of her sword, muscles tensing. After so much anticipation, it would be something of a relief to discover an outlet; so she lifts her chin, squares her shoulders, and stands nearby the door, watching as Svetlana slowly pushes it open.
"Whoever left this room last time," comments the last of the Dusk Elf maidens "did so with style... wearing a hat. And both them and their friends followed the train of thought according to which black goes well with everything, it seems".
Svetlana retrieves the leather hat box in case she might need it in the future and tries to search the pockets of the moth-eaten black cloaks, in case there are any clues left there.
Are there any other doors in the closet? Or other exits? And are there windows?
As Svetlana investigates the closet, Rufus peers around the entryway, staying vigilant for evidence of these alleged spirits. He examines the bird statue on its pedestal, wondering what it may signify.
18 (High) Rufus: Investigating statue- Looking and feeling the heft of this bronze statue, you understand it is quite heavy. That, along with the marble pedestal it sits on, it would take a few people to attempt to pick up or knock over. Its workmanship is excellent, and in great condition. 18 (low) Svetlana: Investigates Closet- found several moth-eaten coats, and a leather hat box. Took leather box. 15 Rhykal: Prepared- no action 11 Miralen: Movement into Foyer- no action 8 Ansur: 4 Radallion: Investigating statue- No action
Radallion walks up behind Rufus also looking at the statue. “Have you ever thought how odd birds are? I mean most things stay grounded and some others swim through the water, but only birds fly.” Fancying himself an art critic he squints at the bronze bird taking in its size and its marble base. “However unique birds may be this one is far more so did you notice, someone added horns. A interesting mistake on a otherwise flawless creation”
@Rufus I missed your last intention to perceive what the doctor is researching in the parlor. your passive perception picks up that most of his collection deals with occult lore and spirits. (sorry!)
As you all begin thoroughly searching the foyer and the closet within, you make a good sweep of the room. you can still see one unopened door to the west, one unopened door to the east, a staircase limbing the northeast corner of the room, spiraling up to a balcony above the west wall. Finally, the front door leads back out to the wrap-around porch of this manor-house.
Round reset! Remember to feel free to discuss your next moves in OOC if you'd like to strategize. In this exploration phase, I don't mind as much coordination as you need!
Rufus chuckles, nodding in agreement with Radallian. "Yes, nature is limited in its imagination. It cannot fathom itself, challenge itself to reach beyond what is useful for survival. As far as nature is concerned, creatures of sky stick to the skies, as the worms burrow in the mud." Rufus strolls the periphery of he entry hall, stopping to slide a finger across the suit of armor. "That is why I have always favored ducks. Earth, sky, water, they inhabit them all. Unless they are confronted by a predator, in which case they retreat to safety... in water."
Rufus moves to the tables at the southwestern and southeastern corners of the entry hall, checking for drawers and attempting to open them. "Fear can tell us a great deal about a creature. How it acts when it is afraid informs us of its true nature. That is why I would classify ducks as creatures of water, not air."
"But..." Rufus pauses at the foot of the stairs, his hand on the stairwell bannister. He turns back to Radallian. "I would not call this addition to the bird a mistake. For although nature's imagination is limited, the creative mind of self-conscious beings is limitless. Merger of form and function can result in a great many benefits, traits superior to the unitary specimen that came before. Internal chemistry. Transfiguration of forms. Mutagenic alteration. Alchemy gives us the power to distill a creature's very essence! And then, then to manipulate that essence, to control it and distill it into something incredible. And that, dear Radallian, is the work of the gods! And it lay it our very hands, if only we are brave enough to grasp it!"
Rufus has been clutching the stairwell tightly in his excitement. He releases his grip and rubs his gloved hands together, smiling. "Shall we try the next door, clockwise from the first?"
Investigation, if needed: 18
Rufus is proposing to open the door just north from the closet that Svetlana was investigating.
Slightly disappointed at not having found anything interesting, the last of the Dusk Elf maidens is amazed to see so many fellow adventurers approaching the bronze sculpture: "Found something interesting?" she tries to ask "Does it remind you of anything? Or do you think it opens a secret passage?"
Svetlana tries to touch the protruding parts of the sculpture, such as the horns, beak or wings, and move them gently, in case one of them is actually a disguised switch or lever. But if the antered eagle simply remains an enigma, Svetlana shrugs and comments: "Maybe we'll understand later what function this idol had in the house; come on, let's keep snooping".
"And would you like to take charge of the 'work of the gods', Rufus?" the Savage Wanderer raises an eyebrow, perplexed, at the alchemist's final words. "You seem to think highly of your abilities... However, considering the result of gods' efforts when they created Barovia," she gives him a smile sweet and bitter at the same time "I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Yes, you could probably do better than them".
The last of the Dusk Elf maidens then proceeds to cover the idol with one of the black cloaks and approaches the door proposed by Rufus, opening it carefully (without entering, for now, just to see what there's inside).
Rhykal turns at the sound of footsteps, reflexive tension transforming to a flicker of undisguised relief at the corner of her mouth, a feeling that surprises her in its intensity; she breathes a slow exhale, jaw loosening, as she rises from her seat. “You made it,” she says—all of them, which is somehow more than she had hoped, recently. From the moment she had found herself caught in yet another web, she had feared—well, no matter: the path she'd worn between front door and parlor could keep that history to itself. “So, your … humble new abode is probably haunted by dark spirits, apparently won’t let us escape its vicinity once we’ve seen it, but might house some mysterious Darklord whose death could result in our freedom from this domain. And if we can free ourselves from it, the doctor over there might be able to find us information about how to escape these … domains of dread altogether.” She glances at Miralen, briefly, as if to invite any further essential summary Rhykal herself has not immediately volunteered in this unexpected rush of emotion she's working to bury.
"Escape from Barovia?" Svetlana says nothing, but, without fully realizing it, she assumes a deeply incredulous expression, while raising an eyebrow "This 'doctor' is lying... He is probably trying to deceive my poor companions in misfortune for his own personal purposes. Perhaps to motivate them further in cleansing his haunted house - from which he probably can't escape either. But as soon as we solve his problem, he will disappear quickly... unless he has other plans in which he intends to deceive us into risking our life, sanity or soul in his place..."
The last of the Dusk Elf maidens continues to examine the paintings for now - perhaps some clues about the family that owns this house could also reveal something about this mysterious (and probably lying) 'doctor'...
"Ah, good day," Rufus says stiffly to the white-haired gentleman, as even being trapped in a domain and dread cannot erase the trappings of good manners ingrained in him. "I am Rufus van Hildegoath, of House van Hildegoath of Daggerford, son of Cornelius van Hildegoath, though he rest in peace, and his ladywife, my mother, Winifred van Hildegoath."
As the man is none too interested in introductions, and walks straight out of the room, Rufus turns back to Miralen and Rhykal. "Well, thank the spheres you're alright. We didn't know what had become of you after you ran off into the fog. Reckless! tsk tsk. At any rate, here we are..."
Rufus listens to Rhykal's explanation. Supernatural, unbelievable, preposterous. And yet, no stranger than anything else they have experienced. Rufus is beginning to wonder if he is losing his mind and this is all a hallucination, but he doesn't voice that concern. One can hardly look to their own hallucinations for confirmation of reality, after all. So what good would it do?
"So..." he says slowly, trying to repeat the incredible information. "This manor is home to haunts and spirits who seek to hold us prisoner? But there is a darklord of this domain and, if we kill him, we may be released? Yes, of course, perfectly rational." Rufus says this last part half-heartedly as he claims a seat at the table, rubbing his temples. His crossbow rests in his lap. "And what of the planchette?"
It’s frankly almost reassuring to witness their own disbelief; she’s spent most of the last thirty minutes so thoroughly caught in her own wariness that she feels the set of her shoulders loosen, just barely, to see it reflected. It’s a feeling quickly undone when she’s met with Rufus telling her off; that she meets with folded arms, a steady gaze, and a skeptically raised brow, gaze dropping pointedly to her sword, as if to suggest she, at least, feels quite comfortable with her capacity to defend herself. Never mind that she had been entirely uncertain about the decision since she’d made it; anyone else making the very same accusation renders that reality moot. “Yes, it certainly looks like we made it to the same place,” she remarks, dryly.
After a moment, she adds, refocusing: “But, yes — something like that. The doctor claims to be equally trapped from one the other … domains — calls himself a ‘mist wanderer,’ or something, who’d been on his way to Barovia in search of his own answers before being dragged here. He seems to think the ... planchette is a match for the house's spirit board, a way to communicate with whatever's haunting it. But whatever he is or isn't, since it’s this … deeply cursed land that’s drawn us here, ‘be prepared for bad things’ seems like a given.” She stands a little straighter, like — maybe the possibility of fighting against something has granted her renewed vigor, or maybe like she’s trying to project a very specific image, or maybe a little bit of both.
Svetlana:
A gaze upon the portraits and paintings decorating these rooms grants you a view of a few lordly types. No faces of which you recognize. One painting shows a beautiful dark castle. Another is a happy couple: a man and woman embracing each other in a warm hug. In the parlor, there are several stacked books and documents messily organized. it appears to be research material for the doctor.
The older gentlemen hears the discourse in the room and appears to do a double take, switching briefly back from his book to the party. "Ahem... if you don't mind, an old man needs his focus. whilst I do my research, perhaps you all can find some answers throughout the rest of the house... please, close the door behind you."
The last of the Dusk Elf maidens carefully studies the faces of the couple, imagining that they could be the hosts - faces that perhaps she will have to see again in some ghost, it seems, given the premises; that's why she wants to be able to recognize them.
"They seem like a happy couple here..." Svetlana murmurs, perhaps unaware of having given voice to her thoughts "In their embrace there are the roots of happiness. Who knows what happened that caused the tree to wither and die".
At the Doctor's words, the Savage Wanderer sarcastically invites the others: "Come on, fellow trapped... be good guests... Leave the one who is studying alone... You don't want to waste his time, right? With everything he has to do..."
Svetlana approaches a door: "If we are to explore this place, we have to start somewhere. Shall we take a look behind this door?" she points to the first door on the left immediately after the main entrance.
Rufus's eyes glide around the room, taking in the portraits. Considering what they've been told, he can't decide if the paintings are a mask, pretty decorations obscuring something ugly beneath, or whether the portraits' inhabitants are simply part of the unnerving wholeness of this place. Regardless, he can't help but compare the home to his own, dilapidated and sullen. Hildegoath House hasn't its works of art any longer--they were sold for grain money, save for those that Cornelius had defaced. Rufus had found several ruined paintings in the home's attic--all portraits containing his father's likeness. Rufus has long wondered what his father saw in the paintings of himself that had driven the patriarch to slash them so. And in such a violent manner! As though an enormous clawed hand had raked its nails through the canvas...
Breaking from his reverie when the professor speaks, Rufus raises an eyebrow at the others, silently beckoning them to follow. He takes to his feet and follows Svetlana back into the parlor. He can't help but take a look at the research notes laid out, as a researcher himself. What is this man studying?
"Certainly," he agrees with Svetlana. "This door appears as good as any other. Let us proceed."
Does Miralen have the planchette?
With all of the rest of the group arriving, Miralen is immensely relieved. Listening while Rhykal gives a quick explanation to them of what we've recently discovered, she adds, "... also, the planchette we found left behind in the woods, it goes to this spirit board here. So the doctor thinks we can communicate with the spirits Rhykal is referring to." Leaving the planchette on the table for the doctor and his studies, Miralen follows the group out, to investigate the rest of the house.
"Okay..." the Last of the Dusk Elf maidens prepares, short sword in hand, to open the door "Let's begin then... I'm sure there's no need recommending you, given the place where we are, to be ready for anything".
"And you?" the Voices in her head intervene "Are are you ready for anything, Svetlana?"
"Horror has many faces in Barovia..."
"...some of which are unsuspected, until it's too late!"
"But we are with you, Svetlana!"
"You can always count on us. You are not alone."
A bittersweet smile spreads across the Savage Wanderer's features. The Voices often steal her privacy, her intimacy, her peace... She fears that one day they may also steal her mind. But when their feelings all harmonize on the same wavelength, the strength of those combined emotion pervades her... like now, when she feels cradled by the moral support of all those poor massacred elf maidens, a comfort that gives her warmth, making her forget for a moment the cold rain she was exposed to until recently, and gives her determination.
As soon as her adventure companions are ready, Svetlana carefully lowers the handle and opens the door...
Part of Rhykal finds herself hoping for something behind the door; as she moves closer toward it, following the others in its direction, she rests a hand on the hilt of her sword, muscles tensing. After so much anticipation, it would be something of a relief to discover an outlet; so she lifts her chin, squares her shoulders, and stands nearby the door, watching as Svetlana slowly pushes it open.
creaking open this wooden door, you find a closet. this holds several moth-eaten black cloaks and, on a high shelf, a heavy but empty leather hat box.
"Whoever left this room last time," comments the last of the Dusk Elf maidens "did so with style... wearing a hat. And both them and their friends followed the train of thought according to which black goes well with everything, it seems".
Svetlana retrieves the leather hat box in case she might need it in the future and tries to search the pockets of the moth-eaten black cloaks, in case there are any clues left there.
Are there any other doors in the closet? Or other exits? And are there windows?
As Svetlana investigates the closet, Rufus peers around the entryway, staying vigilant for evidence of these alleged spirits. He examines the bird statue on its pedestal, wondering what it may signify.
Rufus extends a gloved hand and touches the bird statue.
Top of the round:
18 (High) Rufus: Investigating statue- Looking and feeling the heft of this bronze statue, you understand it is quite heavy. That, along with the marble pedestal it sits on, it would take a few people to attempt to pick up or knock over. Its workmanship is excellent, and in great condition.
18 (low) Svetlana: Investigates Closet- found several moth-eaten coats, and a leather hat box. Took leather box.
15 Rhykal: Prepared- no action
11 Miralen: Movement into Foyer- no action
8 Ansur:
4 Radallion: Investigating statue- No action
Radallion walks up behind Rufus also looking at the statue. “Have you ever thought how odd birds are? I mean most things stay grounded and some others swim through the water, but only birds fly.” Fancying himself an art critic he squints at the bronze bird taking in its size and its marble base. “However unique birds may be this one is far more so did you notice, someone added horns. A interesting mistake on a otherwise flawless creation”
@Rufus I missed your last intention to perceive what the doctor is researching in the parlor. your passive perception picks up that most of his collection deals with occult lore and spirits. (sorry!)
As you all begin thoroughly searching the foyer and the closet within, you make a good sweep of the room. you can still see one unopened door to the west, one unopened door to the east, a staircase limbing the northeast corner of the room, spiraling up to a balcony above the west wall. Finally, the front door leads back out to the wrap-around porch of this manor-house.
Round reset! Remember to feel free to discuss your next moves in OOC if you'd like to strategize. In this exploration phase, I don't mind as much coordination as you need!
Rufus chuckles, nodding in agreement with Radallian. "Yes, nature is limited in its imagination. It cannot fathom itself, challenge itself to reach beyond what is useful for survival. As far as nature is concerned, creatures of sky stick to the skies, as the worms burrow in the mud." Rufus strolls the periphery of he entry hall, stopping to slide a finger across the suit of armor. "That is why I have always favored ducks. Earth, sky, water, they inhabit them all. Unless they are confronted by a predator, in which case they retreat to safety... in water."
Rufus moves to the tables at the southwestern and southeastern corners of the entry hall, checking for drawers and attempting to open them. "Fear can tell us a great deal about a creature. How it acts when it is afraid informs us of its true nature. That is why I would classify ducks as creatures of water, not air."
"But..." Rufus pauses at the foot of the stairs, his hand on the stairwell bannister. He turns back to Radallian. "I would not call this addition to the bird a mistake. For although nature's imagination is limited, the creative mind of self-conscious beings is limitless. Merger of form and function can result in a great many benefits, traits superior to the unitary specimen that came before. Internal chemistry. Transfiguration of forms. Mutagenic alteration. Alchemy gives us the power to distill a creature's very essence! And then, then to manipulate that essence, to control it and distill it into something incredible. And that, dear Radallian, is the work of the gods! And it lay it our very hands, if only we are brave enough to grasp it!"
Rufus has been clutching the stairwell tightly in his excitement. He releases his grip and rubs his gloved hands together, smiling. "Shall we try the next door, clockwise from the first?"
Investigation, if needed: 18
Rufus is proposing to open the door just north from the closet that Svetlana was investigating.
Slightly disappointed at not having found anything interesting, the last of the Dusk Elf maidens is amazed to see so many fellow adventurers approaching the bronze sculpture: "Found something interesting?" she tries to ask "Does it remind you of anything? Or do you think it opens a secret passage?"
Svetlana tries to touch the protruding parts of the sculpture, such as the horns, beak or wings, and move them gently, in case one of them is actually a disguised switch or lever. But if the antered eagle simply remains an enigma, Svetlana shrugs and comments: "Maybe we'll understand later what function this idol had in the house; come on, let's keep snooping".
"And would you like to take charge of the 'work of the gods', Rufus?" the Savage Wanderer raises an eyebrow, perplexed, at the alchemist's final words. "You seem to think highly of your abilities... However, considering the result of gods' efforts when they created Barovia," she gives him a smile sweet and bitter at the same time "I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Yes, you could probably do better than them".
The last of the Dusk Elf maidens then proceeds to cover the idol with one of the black cloaks and approaches the door proposed by Rufus, opening it carefully (without entering, for now, just to see what there's inside).