Neldor and Lothbrok, you find yourselves in the stark white room previously described, looking at each other, the body of an elf slumped against the wall, clutching a dagger, cradling a box, with a series of slash marks across wrists and throat. Four doors with closed eye-level slots and open ground slots you could fit an arm through. Lothbrok has ripped off his sleeves. What do you do now?