Val had been quietly drinking her mead and eating as much food as the dwarves would bring to their table, savoring the small things in life as the others discussed this ruby, Matthew, and this Codex he was requesting them all to retrieve. She chuckles at first, then begins laughing loudly at Jex's proclamations, but flags down a server and tells her to bring them two of their finest spirits; one for her and one for Jex. Once there, she slides the glass over to him. "Jex! I have not had time to tell you that you have fought like a warrior these past few battles! For that, you drink!" She holds up her glass in a toast. "Maybe, next time you stick to the shadows though. Standing toe-to-toe with hobgoblins does not seem to suit you. You are still looking quite pale." She laughs again. "I joke, you are a fine companion! Drink and be merry for once!"

Jex grins and takes the drink. 

"I think you're starting to like me!" He pokes his finger in Val's direction.

"Are you trying to get me drunk? I bet you can't get that kiss out of your head!"

He smirks. "Drink!" 

Vark smiles at the jovial interaction between Jex and Val, and drinks along from his own mug before turning to Bründir. “Maybe the Rhunki knows? Or... I’m sure Matthew could show me somehow.”

Thurston drinks and enjoys his food as the others talks 

“Not to worry Jex” he says to his friend revelations “You becoming a priest of Yhir shows that you wanted to change tour life and that abilities of yours has proven worthy more than once but Val is right, find your own way to fight and let us handle the bulk of it. We have done well in this last fight friends. They should be toasting in Valhalla for us now.” He takes his drink and raise “For us. For friendship. For the battles to come!” He empty his mead.

”Now... whatever this Codex means to Matthew it has become clear that we cannot let it here and if evil things want it, then it would be better if we keep it. I take that you Vark could use it to improve your skills Wich can be useful if more nasty things are going to come after us... and for the task we still had ahead. 
After we retrieve it. Are we going to take care of the Dragonborn sisters? We need to secure The Valley...” 

Val rolls her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. "You are growing on me like a mossy toe!" She laughs raucously. "I have told you, little man, you are too small for me, Jex. I would break you. While these dwarves are short, they might be just the right height... Although I wonder about the beard..." She trails off, blushing a strange shade of purple as the blood flushing her cheeks tints the stone-gray color of her skin.

She turns and raises her mug to Thurston's toast. "To friends and battles!" She roars, slamming her heavy mug into Thurston's and spilling a bit more mead than she anticipated! "This dwarven stuff is strong! Yes, we must kill the ***** Sisters. They have been an irritating thorn far too long!"

During a lull in the conversation, Val leans over to Vark. "Vark, I would have you look at Rook for me if you have such magics at your disposal. Something happened during the battle... it was as if Larkin was being... I do not know how to explain it..." She frowns as her words fail her, but then her eyes lighten. "Ah! You know when you are in the middle of a blizzard and the wind is so loud that you have to shout to be heard over the wind and a weak voice cannot be heard? It was like that... Larkin is a voice and Rook is the blizzard winds."

Valen is surprisingly boisterous at Val's toast. The young man gives a mighty cheer and raises his glass high. However, his attention quickly turns back inward to the discussion at hand, "You're right, Vark. The Rhunki seems to be a spiritual elder of the city, and likely knows where to start." The assessment was met with an eye-roll from Bründir that felt twice as powerful as the monocular gesture appeared.

"Rhunki's a funny thing. Can't say I know much, since I've ne'er been in th' city much. Best I've heard, he's like high priest, clan elder, and mayor's councillor all t'gether. He doesn't do much fer runnin' things, but ev'rybody asks him 'fore decidin' t'piss."

After the toast, and while the converstion goes back to the matter at hand Thurston touches his beard and it seems that he ponders something. 

Vark smiles at the imagery that Val chooses to describe the phenomenon; it’s a reminder how similar their homes are. He takes Rook in his hands, leaning its weight against the table for support. “I’ll try and see what I can figure out.” The sorcerer’s eyes begin to glow softly as he opens his arcane senses to the vicinity around him. The various magical auras adorning himself and his friends begin to hum as his mundane perception softens. He focuses on the current emanating from Rook in his hands, and the others watch as a grimace crosses his face. “It’s dark, and cold... necromancy. I can’t- oh, uhm yes there is more to it. This rune replenishes your strength using the blood of those you slay. And... there’s more but... it’s too quiet. There are parts of the enchantment that haven’t been activated yet. I don’t... well I’m not sure why it’s drowning out Larkin’s voice, but if he is a spirit and this is necromancy then it could- it c-coul-... it c-c-c... Vark’s voice breaks; his stuttering words snapping into a pained croak as his head tilts back. His mouth hangs agape, eyes locked on the ceiling, and for a moment Vark is deathly quiet. Then out of his open throat a string of guttural sounds bubbles up. The chittering tongue is alien, as is the shadowy black gaze that drowns out Vark’s own eyes. The dark stare begins to lower as whatever presence has wracked the mage’s body takes hold. But before blades can be drawn, Vark lurches forward and then back. The dark orbs in his skull blaze bright with ruby flames as the other presence that resides in the half-orc’s body surges to reclaim it, easily overpowering whatever the deathly force was. Vark topples backwards from the tavern bench, sending both Rook and Path Maker clanging to the floor. “It- it- it- it- it t-tried to take me! M-matthew... Matthew saved me.”

As Vark's eyes roll back, a dagger hidden up his forearm is halfway into Jex's hand. He holds it steady, as Vark recovers, slowly putting it away.

"I suppose even the most rational of us have secret evils around us." He chuckles at Val.

"Thurston, do you have a demon bodyguard too? How do I find one?" 

As the half-orc explains, Aiden quietly lowers his shield back to the place it had rested on the floor, moments before. A blue-white glow fades from the stylized hammer engraved on the shield, and a matching one fades from Aiden's eyes. 

"Bloody hell," he says. "What kind of shit are you all into? Where did you get that weapon?"

Thurston exchanges a look with Val, remembering what happened at the bandit camp. 

He kneels as he laughs to the suddenly startled dwarves around them. 

"The boy cannot hold his drink! Come here young rascal I'll teach you how real man drink!" 

He then helps Vark to stand and sits with him at their table. 

"You ok Vark? I am starting to get worried about you... but it seems that you owe Matthew another one." 

He turns to Val.

"Val... when we were fighting those bandits, when we first met, I sensed something... something evil... fiendish in its nature, but back there I relaled it to the presence of that dragonborn sister we were pursuing and fighting, you know the white one. Now... I blame myself for I should had been more careful. I must admit that the way you healed using Rook powers had always gave me the creeps but I must admit it's useful and I am thankful that you are still here thanks to it... " he suddenly blushes a little but keeps on talking " ehm anyway you should take into consideration that if that... presence is keeping at bay Larkin it could not be as good as you first thought..." 

Valen stands, for an uncommon time since meeting the Archarnost, seeming to radiate authority. He steps away from the table, then moves to retrieve Rook. The maul is heavy, and it seems to shift in his hand, as though focusing its weight to throw the man off balance. Resolute, he takes it in both hands and turns back to the table, "Give me a reason why I shouldn't break this thing upon the cliffs, burn it in exorcising fire, then bury it so deep that devils will never find it." Bründir is, surprisingly, silent on the matter. Instead, he heaves himself up, moves around the table, and brings a drink to Vark.

"Because that hammer belongs to my good friend Val, and if you touch it again without her permission, you will find yourself with several pieces of metal in your lungs and throat." Jex sways slightly as he speaks, but his hands drift beneath the table as he makes his threat.

"D̶̗̙͇̩͓͔͇͉̊̃̐̌́̓̀͒̃́͑̾̽t̶̢͚̣̗̫͎̘̲̻͍͖̣͓̱̳̊͐͌̌̀̃̎͆x̶͉̤̣̓͋̅̐̆̅̓̂̅̈́̚͘͠͝ͅ ̵̹̖͉̟̅̈́͂͗̉͘ḋ̷̹̒͝a̷̠͖̞̺̹̻̜̻͐k̵̢̡͎͔̺̼̥̖̦̂̀̂́͛͐̿͒̂̃̓̀͘x̸̥͔̀̔ ̶͎͐̿̃͂͗͐̌͒̆͊̋̍̃͠i̵̡̢̤͙̲͚̼̯̩̥̟̞̳͛ͅp̴̠̍̔̌̈͗̕ ̷͓͉̝̒͊̾̀̂͌̇̒͌̓͌̅̾͘u̸̢̼͎̪̰̖̳͇̠̯̻̳͊̌̊̇̊c̶̦͌̇́̔̎̈́̑̊̚͘x̶͖̗͐̂̍̊̈́͌̍́̈́̿̅̚͝͝ͅ ̸̧̧̩̟͔̜̠̠̱̯̥̩̳̀̇̾̑̆͗̽̎̚ų̸̹̬̺̫̋̔̔͊̽ͅs̷̡͙̞͔̦̩̣̠͔̼̯͔̘͐ẇ̴̡̧̨̪̪͈͉̘̫̎̾́̿͒̇̈́͐͑̈̑͘̚͜ͅ ̷̢͍͚̯͔̀̌̈́̈́̈́̄̅͠͝z̸̡̮̈́͌́̓̒̈͊͒̑̃̍͒̀̓ͅǹ̴̡͇̞͍̻̱̙̟͔̫͒̉̅̌̍̇͜ì̶̡̡̢͎̪̙̹̩̱̮̳̩̃̍̈́̿͒̎̈́͜y̸̛̮̠͈̳ẁ̵̭͖̦̤̪̜͕̭͉̬̬̘̀̑̃͋͐͒͂̃̚̕͝͝ͅ ̸̛̦̓͒͒͋ā̴̧̝̮̞̤̭͖͚̳̬̤̈́̄͛͒̂́̀̕͠z̴̟͙̼̹̹̈͒̃͊̇̍́̌͆̎͆̕͠ͅ ̵̡̺̥͙̼̗̏̅̋̊̈́̒̇͜ͅs̷̨̡͉̳̗̭͕͈̣̫̮̣̣͕̉̒͗̊̒̌̊a̸̛͓͋͑̔̍̾͑͌̇̾̔̚͝f̴̨̗͔̮̪̼̣̳̝̺̦̫͍͕̣̿͛͗̅̉́̉͐̽t̷̙͈͑͗̀̉͗̀͋͑͐̽̆̕͝.̴̧̙͕̝͔̦͙̱̠̔̂͜ ̷͕͉̙̳͍͙̞͈̻͉͑͊̈́̍̇̅̈́̏͜Ŕ̶̡̞̞͙̟̘̀̇ͅq̷̮̰̭̳̤̪̻̻̽̐̍͑͂̂̓̈́i̷̡͕̲̱̩̓̅͋̏̀̆̆͑͘ī̴̟͓̝̔̀͋͑̔͘͘͠͠w̷̛͔̩͎͎͍͓̖̬̔̃̏͝-̴̢͔̟͚͕̰̱̯̤̲̯̜͔̠̼̈́͛̓̈́͋̈́͆̏͘y̴̝͍̻̭͚͙̗͒́́̍̌͒͊̅̈́̕̚͜x̴̳̟̹̻͍̄̓͌̃̑̈́̇͘͘͜w̷̧̛̖̪̖͍̹̜̭̺̜̘̣̥̲̩͆́̊̄͐̂̈́͂̽̇͑̃̎ ̷̗̞̀͊z̸̙̫̤̼͔̀̈́̃̉̽͂̽̓̂͘͝x̶͕̾̏̍̐x̶̢̮̳̻̱̘̠̼̿̓̏͋̎͗̔͊̚w̸̨͔̹̰̣̞̦͍̣̘̜͕̃̅̈̆z̴͙̙͔̬̟̪̦̖̼̒͂̈͐̚͝͠ ̸̢͍̞̯̓̄̊͑̎i̶̡͗̎̔̋̒̌̏̄̈́̎̓p̵̨̹̝͓̯̞̞̅́͂͑͘͝ ̷̝̟̙̜̟̬̺̝͙̀̋͐͂́̋̓̄͂̂̄́̽ṅ̴̩̼̮͉̫̬̪̻͍͈̩͍̀ͅu̷̢̢̧͉̰̫̹̭̘̪̙̾̈̾y̴̢̛͍̰͉̲̜̟͌̊̏͒͛̾ͅ ̶̨̛̘̞̥̮͍͈͛̇͛̔͂̐̒̒͒̕ų̴̪̬̩̩̝͕͙̥͈̳̈͊̏̆͋͐͑̀̿͒̿̓ͅỵ̵̞̹̟̌̎̿̓̾́̍͌̑͌̆͜x̴̫͌͆ ̴̧̬̣̭͙̲͖̀̎̏̌̕͜ż̸̛͍̝͖̦̗̼̰̈́̿̃̐͊̿̇͑̓̕i̵͎̥͙̲̳̖͈͓̟̍̈́ͅn̴̛̮̠͍̘̺̥̥͛͊͑̀̾̑̌̈̉͘̕s̸͉̀̒͋.̷̺͚̭̐͒"

The outlandish behaviour of the half-orc warlock draws mistrustful stares from the inn's patrons. A quiet falls over the Hammer, broken only in part by Thurston's jovial dismissal. Many of the Dwarves believe that they know what they just saw. Southern sorcery. Diabolism, maybe? Are these 'Rikadron' truly the heroes that they are being praised as, or just another foreign threat? Giant- and Orc-kin seem unlikely allies at the best of times and relations with the Elves have been fraught with tension of late. The common room bubbles with a murmured background of grumbling and discontent.

She hands over the weapon and suddenly feels tired... So tired. Her shoulders sag slightly and she feels utterly drained, but watches and listens intently. Val's eyes widen in fear and surprise as Vark suddenly begins to react to some sort of presence within Rook. She immediately leaps to her feet and rushes over to the fallen half-orc, kneeling next to him as she helps him into a seated position. "What do you mean, 'it tried to take me', Vark? What tried to take you? This was not Larkin that did this? Is there something else within Rook?" As she speaks with Vark and aids him she has a recollection of the possessed bandit and the way Rook had reacted to his death.... Before she could speak to this memory, the newcomer to the party, Valen, takes her ancestral weapon from the floor and threatens to destroy it.

She stands slowly as the temperatures around her plummet to a bitterly frigid cold and frost begins to build up around her clenched fists as her breath fogs in the warm environment of the bar, her breath ragged and full of rage as she looks Valen dead in the eye. "That weapon is all that I have left of my tribe, my family, my brother. It is more precious to me than my life. I swear to all the Kalukavi tribe that ever has been, if you do not unhand my weapon, I will break you." Black sparks pop and swirl all around her forearms in response to the fury as Rook begins to bounce and vibrate upon the floor at Valen's feet! The ghostly form of Larkin appears beside Val and looks upon his sister with concern... 

Valen's eyes flash with a radiant spark as he grits his teeth and stares down the imposing adversary. Through clenched jaw, he holds his voice as steady as he can manage, "In that case, I would never remove one from such an precious heirloom," the maul rattles ominously in the paladin's iron grip, "But you should know it bears vile magic, as your friend there stated. Such magic has bound itself to you, and I fear it has an insidious will." Valen's gaze breaks for a moment as he looks past Valaith to the ghostly apparition, "Tell me, did this belong to someone else before you?" His hand cautiously extends to try returning the weapon without any sudden moves. 

Jex relaxes in his seat. Returning the daggers to their hidden positions beneath the table. He mutters, "Or she's got it herself. Never mind then."

Thurston mutters to Jex “Never doubt that she would have her way... I pity whoever try to get Rook from her” 

Thurston sits and says to the rest of the party, specially Valen.

”Let’s try to calm down ok? It is not the first time with deal with evil presences or influences isn’t it? “ he smirks “I would say that it’s king of our specialty! We will figure it out and get Rook rid of it Val. You have my word on this. “ he says putting a hand on her shoulder and suddenly serious. 
“Now... if we can cease to make any more weird magical displays, finish out dinner sharing drinks and laughs and stop attracting unwanted attention to us, this good dwarves seem to be a little more grumpy that your usual one...” he tries to soften the mood smiling to his dwarven companion. 
“Now Jex, would you mind to explain to me why did you started to cry like a baby in the middle of the fight? That was just a flesh wound, and we were trying to make an impression here... look how that dwarf over there look at you? I think he is trying to determine if you are a kid or don’t “ he looks at his friend hoping that he takes the torch and helps him soften the mood.

 Val holds her still sparking hand expectantly, her gaze never faltering and holding the paladin's with a fierce intensity as Larkin watches passively, but always looking ready to spring into battle despite his ghostly and shifting form. Larkin's hold holds within it his own, spiritual version of Rook. "Yes," her breath fogs again as she snarls. "My brother, Larkin, and then our father before him and his father before him. It was passed down generation to generation for as long as we can remember." She reaches out and takes the weapon from Valen's outstretched hand, suddenly feeling rejuvenated as her fingers tighten around the black metal handle. Larkin seems to frown as Val sighs wistfully and her aggressive rage seems to falter away with the weapon back in hand. She looks to Vark and the others as she takes a seat, eyeing Valen warily before holding Vark's gaze once more. "You said something tried to take you, Vark. What was it? What is inside my weapon? Is it part of what came out of that bandit I killed? If so, what exactly was inside him?"

Vark takes the helping hands, and offered drink, and returns to the table. His eyes anxiously take in the glares and disdainful looks the party is receiving, and he visibly shrinks from the attention. “M-m-maybe we should have this talk somewhere else...” he mutters weakly.  He isn’t surprised that his companions wish to resolve the issue more presently though, and he turns to Val as she addresses him. “I... I’m sorry but... I’m not sure. It... well it was kinda like when Matthew took over before... but he is fiery and... rigid? Orderly, like how this city is laid out, or like a cut gem. But this... this was kinda like you said. A blizzard. Cold, chaotic winds and- and... well it also felt like death. Matthew is full of life but this was the opposite it... it was scary.” It’s clear how harrowing the experience was for Vark as he recounts it. His eyes stare deep into his cup, and he gives an involuntary shiver as if the frigid pull of the grave could return at any moment.