At first glance, the box looks like nothing special. It's not a small thing, but it's not very large. Perhaps just large enough to fit a hat inside. And yet, it seems massive to Aage. Sitting on the center of his dinning table. All sharp edges and harsh black wood, it looks out of place in the soft earthy comfort that is his home. The most unsettling thing about the box however, is what rests inside it. Not that he knows what's inside it of course.
But that is what he hopes to accomplish by the end of the night. With a little luck, he'll be able to pry it open and get it to whisper his secrets to him. Be able to cleanse himself of the heavy and itchy feeling of dread that has encompassed him ever since the box just simply appeared before him in the blink of an eye.
His first attempt to open it is foolish in hindsight. Reaching forward and pulling the lid up. Or trying to at least. It remains closed. Sealed as though someone had glued it shut. His next attempt is to try and wedge a screwdriver between the seam where the lid meets the body. At first, it looks like he's about to succeed. The wedge of the blade fitting perfectly between the groove. But as soon as he goes to push down on the handle, the screwdriver goes flying into the air, the end suddenly far too large to fit in the seam. He sighs, it seems like it'll be harder to open it than he thought.
His next schemes are more elaborate. He ventures into the city, persuading people into trying to open it for him. Maidens, thieves, children, everyone, human and viscet alike, fails. He attempts to saw into the top of the box, only to have the saw blade snap in half, nearly cutting of the tip of his ear. He drops it off the roof of his home, hopping it will shatter into a million pieces. It simply hits the ground and bounces, not even a scratch on it's surface.
He resorts to other methods. He tries to sweet talk the box into opening. His voice as smooth as silk and his words sweeter than honey. It refuses to open. He takes another route, bargaining with the box, threatening to drop it into a vat of holy water if it does not open, bribing it with the souls of a dozen maidens. the box stubbornly remains closed.
In a last ditch attempt, he throws the box into the fire roaring in the hearth. Surely, since it appears to be made out of wood, it will burn. For a precious few minutes, the box sits in the flames unharmed. And then, with no warning, it bursts into flames. A grin sneaks it's way onto Aage's face. He has succeeded in defeating the box.
Ready to celebrate, he turns away from the fire. He takes two steeps before freezing. Because sitting there on the center of his dinning table, is the box. Looking perfectly untouched. And just a few inches taller than it was before.
