As Jokad talks absently, Jovik's jaw starts to drop. The broken box he is holding starts to rattle and vibrate in his hand. He looks up, seeing the burning flame of Whitefire eating into the moldy stain on the wall. The mold almost seems to move away from the flame, as if flinching. Jovik lets go of the wooden box, realising that it is suddenly hot in his hand. As it falls to the floor there is a sudden crack, like a whip or rope snapping. Jokad is thrown across the room, whitefire falling from his hand, his right arm numb as if a shock has stunned all of his muscles.
The shoanti crumples against the table, causing it to tilt. Jovik steadies the thing, and then helps the barbarian to his feet. Danth too moves over quickly, offering a hand to the barbarian. The cleric had been at the door setting fire to the corpse of Aldern.
Jokad stands, brushing off the assistance. His face is a mask of displeasure.
The patch on the wall smoulders a little, but is still largely untouched.
Danth can sense it. There is something unholy there.
Outside the door the corpse of Aldern starts to pick up the flame. The stench is stunning! Someone is going to have to kick him into that pit before you all vomit! Trust me, burning ghast is not a tasty odor!