Panzersharkcat wrote:After the Sheriff gives his response, he'll find paper or parchment to scribble down any loose ends and to consult with the rest of the party on anything he may have missed. Mind you, this is a list of everything (well, at least trying to list everything) left undone from the very beginning.
-The men of the woods
-The civilians of the town de Berrey and his men were encamped in
-de Berrey's surviving men
-Ridebert's legal problems
-Rohal's whereabouts
-Informing people of the destruction of that monster producing place, if he hasn't already, unless it's not wise to mention it
-Elves solved, unless things have been forgotten
-20 Kataphraktoi Tagma* and the orc
-Lisanna's presence at Lillehammer
-Rescuing the boy de Berrey
-The town Alfred was encamped in
-General law and order stuff in de Berrey's land, including making sure Captain de Berrey's men don't go there to attack
OOC:
Cool, you've got a list. Good job Panzer. Be interesting talking over the consultations. Although we'll have to unsplit the party first. Darn
(OOC: What kind of gloves are Alfred wearing, by the way? I'm just wondering in case he ever runs into a situation where he needs to grab the blade of somebody's sword and yank it away. I'd prefer not to slice Alfred's hands open doing that so if it's never been mentioned before, then he has mail gloves.)
"I'm just reading through your formspring here, and your responses to many questions seem to indicate that you are ready and willing to sacrifice realism/believability for the sake of (sometimes) marginal increases in gameplay quality. Why is this?"
"Because until I see gamers sincerely demanding that if they get winged in the gut with a bullet that they spend the next three hours bleeding out on the ground before permanently dying, they probably are too." - J.E. Sawyer
I'm pretty sure chain mail gauntlets would be normal given that Sir Alfred wears a suit of full armor normally. There's a lot of reasons to have metallic hand protection besides just grabbing blades, and all of them are good to goodish.
If I'm wrong, I would be most interested to learn about why.
Dale drinks the graveyard and wards in with great eagerness. Calm memories rather than spastic ones are a welcome change. In this case, familiarity does not breed contempt.
Upon realizing there is something watching, Dale pauses for a minute then begins to sort through the various stimuli in an attempt to watch back. No hostile intent at the moment, just curiousity in an attempt to identify who, or what, is watching this place. Dale relaxes, trying not to specifically look back so much as let the static sensations of the wards fade from his conscious attention (sort of like relaxing and looking past the obvious pattern to find a 3-D image on a poster).
Actually, panzer, you probably are, for an easily illustratable reason. Plate's worse than chain for not bending particularly well- look at the palm of your hand for a second, and the lines and folds in the skin. Particularly the finger joints. An armoured gauntlet has to fold up, neatly, out of the way of all of that articulation- and generally it can't be done.
NASA has enough problems now, working with hand tools and eyeball measurement is so very much worse. Generally only the back of the hand is armoured, up to the fingertips, but the inside of the fingers and the palm is usually just a leather glove. You get better grip on your own weapons from a glove than a wrinkly palm of chainmail, too. The finer it is, the smaller the links- and the trickier it is to make and more expensive. We've found as small as 2mm links historically, and that might do for a palm, but
Partial plate usually actually consists of most of the large plates, too- still covers better than eighty percent of the body at a fraction of the cost. The expensive, tricky part is the articulation, the joints. Fully articulated gauntlets are the most expensive part of the suit because they're nothing but a mass of joints.
Anyway, the conclave is actually being held in the tower they hold- a building that has been more or less repaired, although a lot of the furniture did get crisped and looted. It's a six storey tower with a small observatory on the roof, and a low powered general purpose teaching circle in the basement- there is an outer wall, with the by now usual holes in it, and what usually happens is that a wizard invited to join the guild either builds their own house in the grounds, or at least a shed to store his paraphernalia if choosing to remain elsewhere.
There are staff, employees of the guild, who are currently mostly hiding in a corner- Lisanna must have made quite an impression. She's not a bad person, at least not obviously, just that when she decides something is necessary, everything else- caution, fear, economics, what have you- gets held in abeyance. She seems to have decided that some measure of reform is necessary.
Both sides look to Larric as a convenient diversion, 'No, now would be good.' they both manage to say at more or less the same time then look at each other surprised.
(OOC: I thought so but I just wanted to make absolutely sure. I'd rather not have it happen but just in case. Anyway, I'm actually waiting on the sheriff's response on the law for appropriating de Berrey's stuff.)
"I'm just reading through your formspring here, and your responses to many questions seem to indicate that you are ready and willing to sacrifice realism/believability for the sake of (sometimes) marginal increases in gameplay quality. Why is this?"
"Because until I see gamers sincerely demanding that if they get winged in the gut with a bullet that they spend the next three hours bleeding out on the ground before permanently dying, they probably are too." - J.E. Sawyer
OK, leather glove. You know, in this setting it might actually be more cost-effective to get some kind of magically enhanced uncuttable leather than to get an articulated steel gauntlet.
IC:
Larric is slightly surprised, blinks, snaps back into focus. "Oh. All right, then. I don't know exactly what the path is here, I've really only studied a little, mostly because I was using it for my 'chemical experiments."
He is a member of an existing (alchemists') guild in his own right and before that was an apprentice in yet another such trade, so he follows up on that with:
"Not to use it for trade- though trying to keep my friends alive has meant using it for a lot more than I'd meant to. I've no urge to stay outside the law, nor to disrespect the craft*, so- where would we begin, by custom?" He looks around, trying to take in whatever is being said or done around him as fast and thoroughly as possible. A basically self-assured man, with a mature place in the world**, but one who knows how little he knows about magic in particular, and is quite happy to take steps to prove he's not a loose cannon. Not here to make waves, except possibly electromagnetic ones.
_____________________
*Or equivalent expression in Kuquanese for magic, I'm sure there is one.
**I never actually said, but Larric is... I picture him being about twenty-eight to thirty, young enough to have plenty of career ahead but old enough that he knows himself and his work with the confidence of someone who remembers using it a lot of different ways, and who hasn't had to take a lot of orders from anyone for a few years. At least, among his perceived social equals he stays that confident.
(OOC: Yeah, and just put some steel in the knuckles and a plate for the back of his hand for punching people. Twiddles thumbs as I wait.)
"I'm just reading through your formspring here, and your responses to many questions seem to indicate that you are ready and willing to sacrifice realism/believability for the sake of (sometimes) marginal increases in gameplay quality. Why is this?"
"Because until I see gamers sincerely demanding that if they get winged in the gut with a bullet that they spend the next three hours bleeding out on the ground before permanently dying, they probably are too." - J.E. Sawyer
'Are you entirely certain that he has any property to appropriate?' the Sherriff says to Alfred. 'Apart from what he stood up in? Given that your account of him is as a deserter and bandit, what's left of the army may have a prior claim and has almost certainly taken anything he left behind, and what he had with him- if there are no other claimants, as he was an outlaw it's yours. Only person who might challenge that judgement is yourself, according to the first letter.'
Oh, and that made up name...prefer it if you didn't, although the greek is interesting- for various- to be absolutely honest more gaming than classical studies related reasons- I know a handful of latin, but no greek. Striking Phoenix is the name, and the banner, of the regiment.
The graveyard- mist drifts through it, and Dale lets it, lets it drift around and through, looking for pattern and presence- and then it resolves itself. There is something in, apparently of, the mist. An unquiet spirit, a revenant- exactly the sort of thing that he should be banishing back to the realms of the gods where it belongs. The sort of thing that usually resists banishment.
This isn't hostile, though by all the normal rules it ought to be. No sense of malice off it. It becomes clear in both senses of the term why, as the mist collects in front of Dale into a pale toned figure- an armoured knight, looking as he would have in late middle age, and with a holy symbol of D'nor engraved into his breastplate. This makes absolutely no sense; and the ghost above all else is painfully aware of that.
(OOC: Alright. It's just my in-head name, anyway. Where's de Berrey's body, by the way? Really should have looted the bodies further.)
"I am not totally certain. However, I seek to cover ground before I make attempt at assessing what he has, even if it is little."
"I'm just reading through your formspring here, and your responses to many questions seem to indicate that you are ready and willing to sacrifice realism/believability for the sake of (sometimes) marginal increases in gameplay quality. Why is this?"
"Because until I see gamers sincerely demanding that if they get winged in the gut with a bullet that they spend the next three hours bleeding out on the ground before permanently dying, they probably are too." - J.E. Sawyer
"Sir Knight, something is clearly amiss. Who were you in life and why does your spirit linger? The Great Sheppard of the Night would empbrace you, yet here you are instead of at his side. What has happened to you?"
Dale will not unlimber his sword... yet. He is ready should it prove necessary, but so far this is either a very good trap, or there is something entirely different taking place. My money is, figuratively speaking, on "entirely different." Dale's attention is focused on the spirit in the mist and he will gently probe it with his Sense (7), Consequences (3) and Shadowspeak (6). I do not intend to make the spirit fearful or angered, only to understand why a non-malicious spirit lingers in this world instead of journeying to the next.
[Apparently no news in the wizards' conclave room. Sadly, in-character Larric does not know the protocol for an aspirant licensee in his situation, nor do I know out-of-character, so we're going to need a hint. ]
I know, I was away on a trip though and I've just felt drained and sat on most of this year, really- short of energy all round.
'Ah, yes, joining the guild-' looks at Lisanna who says nothing. 'Essentially it consists of three parts,' one of the other members of the guild coughs and says 'four.' Sihulam glares at him, Lisanna tries not to look smug and almost succeeds, and he admits that there are in fact four.
'The first thing we do is to take an assessment of the prospective candidate- examine your powers and in theory your potential, although in the present time that can be considered in abeyance. The second part is education in matters other than wizardly- the business life of the guild, our existing obligations, credits and debts moral as well as financial, the laws and strictures we operate under and those we are obliged to uphold. That.
At the end of it all there is a rite and an oath, swear to uphold, all that. The fourth part which my colleague decided you should know of, and which the court sorceress has been bending my ear about,' that comes dangerously close to re- igniting their argument for a second, 'is that you will be expected to shadow an existing member of the guild for some time, during which, well, we also take an assessment of your suitability, your character.'
'What I have been disagreeing with magus Sihulam about, chiefly,' Lisanna says, 'is his definition of suitability. The county is awash with hedge wizards whose only restraint is their own conscience, for some that may do, for many that is nowhere near enough.'
'Your solution to the problem amounts to inviting them in.' Sihulam fires back. 'Many of them are dangerous renegades who would only be made far more so by some measure of official tolerance.'
'You're in danger of officiating over nothing if you let the renegades outnumber you and roam wild without any attempt to at least show them the path- and the guild showing signs of disappearing up it's own backside is why the head of the guild,' Chaereon Parrath, not actually present at the moment, 'is not the official court wizard.'
Sihulam looks very put out by this, as well he may. Larric's reaction, being in the middle of it all?
In the graveyard, the ghost says, slowly and sadly, 'Warden, why do you ask- you don't know, you weren't there? Of course. Few except...I was dead, and at rest, and at peace.
Called back, pulled back by means blasphemous and abominable- yet when I saw how desperate the summoners were and how little hope they had, I could not but understand why.
Novices, a shade unhinged by being pulled to the limits of their abilities already, overwhelmed by the amount they could not do, sent beyond the veil many more times than they were ready for- they needed help. The task was being left undone.
Wandering souls, lost and falling apart, fading and falling- but the dead to bury the dead? Wrong, so terribly wrong. Ward and guard and guide- but what else was there to do, with others unravelling, into infinite nothing, from neglect, from fire and foe? What would you have done?'
Eleventh Century Remnant wrote:I know, I was away on a trip though and I've just felt drained and sat on most of this year, really- short of energy all round.
Ugh. Ditto.
IC:
Sihulam looks very put out by this, as well he may. Larric's reaction, being in the middle of it all?
Larric takes a deep breath, looks confused, it fades a bit. Only a bit. He did not mean to get hopelessly caught up in the politics of the thing, doesn't want to alienate the guild, but doesn't want to join in on hammering on Lisanna, which would be both dangerous and ungrateful. He might make a firmer stand when he had firmer ground to do it on, but not right this moment.
"...I suppose I'm one of those hedge-wizards. I can't speak for them all, only for myself. And I came to you, because I didn't want to wander around forever and risk doing something that shouldn't be done and couldn't be fixed-" and someone with sufficient second sight might somehow catch a vision in Larric's head, his worst imaginable scenario for magical accidents not involving Verone. A future hopefully averted, involving a strategic-demolitions bang out of a small pile of lampblack, fading into the distance as the fireball climbs through the clouds- "by accident. I'm not a rogue by nature, so I came to you. Others might not; a lot of them worry me. Some of them need stopping, no doubt- people too mad to have a place here, and maybe to have any place at all if they keep working magic."
"Assay, business-teachings, oath, all sound wise and it sounds like there's no argument there. The trouble seems to be in 'suitable.' It's common sense that you wouldn't want to let a madman into the guild, any more than the alchemists would want a poisoner. 'Suitable' is important... and as changing what 'suitable' means, I don't think I know enough yet, to speak of that among you. For myself, I'm happy to hand over character references, show you who I am and what I wouldn't give anyone to worry about." Another possible image, associated with his recent past- the fortress and the weirder, wilder monstrosities therein.
Larric's body language suggests that he's a bit unsure about what Lisanna might have in mind, mostly because he does not know what it is. He likes Lisanna, admires her, owes him not a few favors... but he hasn't forgotten the "let's have Alfred impersonate a zombie and try to clock Hilarion with a mallet!" plan, and how much that reminded him of the elf-lady's plan back at Caer Edric, the one that was explicitly trying to get him killed.
The wrongness of what the spirit describes shivers down Dale's spine.
"The veil is not meant to be pierced in this way. To bring back any spirit, even with good intentions... it invites abuse, abomination and worse. This place must be rebuilt, and with it, D'nor's wardens and servants. The novices you mention seem to have lost their way. These novices, do you know where they are now? I would speak to them and help them back to the best path. If it is your desire, I can release you and let you rest now as well."
Next on the to-do list:
1) See the novices and find out what the hell they think they're doing.
2) Offer the spirit release, if it so desires; Dale's memory is spotty but this should be possible at least.
3) Find out more about what has happened within his order -- Dale does not think his memories being so fragmented is merely due to his patron archangel losing the plot... something is more greatly amiss here... whether that is an accurate intution or paranoia, well, time will tell.
Are you sure that was an actual plan, or just how things ended up falling out? Alfred was caught in the dust cloud of a disintegrating zombie as I recall it, it wasn't deliberate, and the fighting involved holding off probing groups long enough to get everyone out- rearguard, not attack. It might have been a contingency plan, but no more- certainly not a good idea.
'Most of them are aware of that too.' Lisanna points out. 'Some will be willing to help, and you need to move faster to help them and offer them a structure and a way to help in turn- this is not a moment for guardians and watchmen.'
'Stop trying to teach me to suck eggs.' Sihulam snaps back. He seems to have an idea at that point, and Lisanna decided to create a diversion-
'Well, you have one at least. I have much to do- I'll be in touch.' Turns to go.
Sihulam waits until she's out of the tower before reminding his colleagues- who know anyway- 'She never compleed her own training and vows, did she?'
It may also occur to Larric that Aburon is not merely a hedge wizard, but an active danger, heretic and outlaw- and Lisanna's significant other. The politics of that situation may be quite personal.
In the graveyard, the spirit answers 'More than pierced, I fear- shredded. I want to, would but for...there is no-one else. The wardens killed and the apprentices fled, look to the small towns where there was much death. I should be gone, but who else is there to bear the spirits of the dead?'
Eleventh Century Remnant wrote:Are you sure that was an actual plan, or just how things ended up falling out? Alfred was caught in the dust cloud of a disintegrating zombie as I recall it, it wasn't deliberate, and the fighting involved holding off probing groups long enough to get everyone out- rearguard, not attack. It might have been a contingency plan, but no more- certainly not a good idea.
Larric doesn't think Lisanna was very serious, or she'd have had to be talked out of it. But anyone who would think of that bears watching, to anyone with even half as much common sense as Larric tries to take in with his morning porridge every day.
Again, he likes her, he trusts her, but he only trusts her judgment so far in certain respects.
IC:
Sihulam waits until she's out of the tower before reminding his colleagues- who know anyway- 'She never completed her own training and vows, did she?'
It may also occur to Larric that Aburon is not merely a hedge wizard, but an active danger, heretic and outlaw- and Lisanna's significant other. The politics of that situation may be quite personal.
Larric scratches his chin. "How much trouble have you had from rogue wizards, these past few weeks? About how many of..." them? us? "that sort are there around here?" That last is sort of mused, he's also looking around to size up (Human Perception) what the guild members think of him and whether or not they seem favorably disposed. How many people are sitting in this conclave, anyway?
"Very well then. I am a death-warden and I too have suffered scars from the recent turbulence, but I will do what is within my power to restore D'nor's servants in this troubled place. Are any of the apprentices on this site or within the city/castle of Qulan? If so, I must speak with them. If not... Sheppard help us all."
Dale examines the surroundings with more detail now. Souls unravelling, the spirit said. Souls that should be put to rest and moving on ceasing to be due to the lack of wardens to hasten them on their journey. And... worse in the towns? Oh my.
"So long as you are willing and able, your service to the spirits of the departed will be honored and appreciated. Once enough of D'nor's servants have been reestablished here, you shall be released. I thank you for your patience and your service. Now, as to the apprentices, do you know where any of them are?"
Found the bit where she suggested that- she was talked out of it, by Aburon, in pretty much the next line; it was an emergency plan, one with obvious flaws, considered in the way you have to consider these things, and rejected. (I need to do a lot of work on how she's portrayed, she's not coming across the way she is in my head at all.)
'It is the nature of the land. So many old wonders, so many old horrors too- the falls, the white city, the mountain, ruined towers and phantom towns, dwarven kingdoms, elves of all kinds- Auvaine is very rich in magical oddities, for good and for ill. That means rich in people inspired to magic too, and not all of them choose the path of harmony. We need- there is purpose waiting for- all those who do.'
You don't really expect them to hang it all out warts and all, that wouldn't make sense, but listening between the lines and looking at the byplay between them Larric can get the sense that he is welcome, if not badly needed, and the guild has quite a lot of problems they don't want to admit to a new member. For one thing that was inspiringly unspecific- hedge wizards are worryingly numerous. They become rogues when the ego starts to swell and they start throwing their power around.
The guild doesn't really have the being power- fifteen at the moment of varyign degrees of power and proficiency, here at least; there are rather fewer of them than there are knights, somewhere about a quarter to a sixth as many, and tracking down and suppressing the rogues and persuading the hedge wizards could probably be a full time job, in addition to study, training and major projects of everyone's own.
In the graveyard, the ghost warden names a coupple of places, small towns and villaes where he knows some of the novices and wardens- in- training fled to, Sheldayne is the only one that rings any bells in Dale's mind, but adds 'The Grumbling Falls, Fordston, the temple complex there. If there is a place with power in reserve, people able to stretch to setting it to rights, there is the place.'
Eleventh Century Remnant wrote:Found the bit where she suggested that- she was talked out of it, by Aburon, in pretty much the next line; it was an emergency plan, one with obvious flaws, considered in the way you have to consider these things, and rejected. (I need to do a lot of work on how she's portrayed, she's not coming across the way she is in my head at all.)
More like my description isn't coming across the way it did in my head.
Larric knows, with great certainty, that Lisanna is a good, honorable, clever, heroic woman. He likes her. He trusts her. He has at least some notion of how hard she must have worked to magic up food for hundreds of people (maybe even a few known to him, the population of the barony wealthy enough to patronize alchemists not being THAT hugely large).
At the same time, he recognizes her penchant for harebrained schemes to accomplish, well... "way too much." And therefore, he regards her plans with a certain amount of caution and prudence, being by nature a relatively commonsensical, methodical man. To someone with a sense of humors, he's phlegmatic-melancholic; she's sanguine-choleric. A bit of psychological distance is inevitable.
Were I playing a different character, that other person might think Lisanna was the greatest thing since bread. Larric, on the other hand, admires her... cautiously.
________________________________
The guild doesn't really have the being power- fifteen at the moment of varyign degrees of power and proficiency, here at least; there are rather fewer of them than there are knights, somewhere about a quarter to a sixth as many, and tracking down and suppressing the rogues and persuading the hedge wizards could probably be a full time job, in addition to study, training and major projects of everyone's own.
IC:
The alchemist-(wizard?)'s confusion shifts gently from his brain to his vocal chords.
"I don't think it was magic places that got me into it, but... hmp. Old books, really, so that means you're right. Never mind. So... I still don't know the bylaws of the wizard's guild. But if it's like anything else in the world even a little-" he smiles faintly, eyes dancing a bit with amusement- "fees to be paid, seals and documents, time spent right now studying, time spent some-time-week-after-next catching up what I was supposed to do the day before yesterday, time spent gods know how long catching up what I was supposed to do then, and where do I sign?"
'Much like that, yes.' Sihulam says. 'Entirely too much at times. One of the advantages, one of the meanings of the guild is having help and support with that; as is necessary, compared to the alchemists the stakes are higher. As an alchemist you are not, or perhaps only a little, an instrument of the law and a pillar of the nation- the wizards' guild has more authority but also more responsibility.
Most of the hedge wizards think of us- I'm sure the new court sorceress does- as stuffy old men, killjoys, petty tyrants often enough, stuck in the mud and full of sonorous drivel. How restful that would be, if it were true. We have a sacred trust not to repeat the mistakes of the past, nor to allow them to be repeated; to protect the people from such of them as still occasionally flare up.
You have been doing our work these last few weeks; we should have been there to do it, but there is always more to be done. Would you like to come down to the circle now and see where your talents lie?'
Thanking the spirit in the graveyard, Dale will proceed to the local Temple of D'nor to inspect it. He is looking for holy items, the condition of the space and anything held therein, and for any evidence of the novices/acolytes who had been operating from this place. On a personal level, he is also hoping that the environment jogs his memories, which continue to have large gaps. A steady and intentionally reverent inspection of the temple is conducted.
Downstairs in the tower, dealing with the circle there is like being handed a small labrador puppy two days after fighting off a pack of wolves; it may have legs and fangs and things, but it's so cute. The bits and pieces are the same, it's clearly of the same general class of object, but compared to the circle in the outpost on the mountain it is warm and fuzzy and innocent. Does seem more geared to the early stages of a wizard's education than the other one which had all sorts of nasty augments and enhancements.
Seems to sum up the negative view of the guild, actually- hardly anyone accuses them of being evil and oppressive, not in Auvaine anyway, but a lot of people including some of the alchemists do look down on them as the regulatory agency that doesn't; that they are a cozy club with little grasp, that they avoid being tyrants and monsters by doing very little at all, that most things that need to be done with magic are done by the rogue element.
That bit about the land is actually true. Auvaine breeds renegades at a high rate, more than the guild can cope with, and has done for some time; in other counties the balance of power is much more in favor of officialdom. Lisanna clearly wants to change it, Sihulam wants to change it, but they have very different ideas as to how- and as to whether it's actually true or not.
What the circle actually does takes some time to go though the basic forms of most of the magics, presenting a relatively simple and partially drawn spell for the subject to complete, moving on to something slightly more complex if that is done properly- so on. A list of problems of escalating difficulty, but starting at quite a low level, and moving from one power to the other doing them all in turn.
It would serve as basic education quite well, and be quite good for starting something new, but it wouldn't teach boldness nor grace under pressure, and certainly not the dancing sense of wonder that that inspires people to magic. It is thaumaturgy as it fits in and belongs, as it is incorporated into the balance of power- which is almost certainly part of the test.
Apart from that what it does is explore which talents are connected to which, finding and highlighting natural aptitudes- confirming that Larric is rather good with Air, of course and not really telling him much that he doesn't know already from Lisanna and the Countess.
(Wits is his main thaumaturgical ability, is it not, covering Light, MA(guile), Air, Substance, Ethereal, Vision; can't remember off the top of my head, what's the other?) Only real surprise is what, Wits 12 Air 14, how relatively highly that actually ranks; the formal system counts inwards, from Eleventh (no power at all) down to First Circle, each divided into outer, middle and inner, and that power puts Larric into the Outer ring of the Seventh Circle which is considered professional level, enough to work off of, and quite a surprise to the guildsmen.
By the time that's done, Dale should be back, Andrea should be off the operating table (literally, hopefully it'll have been washed down before anyone has to eat off it) but probably not conscious, what's Alfred been doing and what ahs Dirt been up to?
Ah, the temple. As soon as Dale gets to where it once stood, (his feet know exactly where they're going,) he spots the problem. There is a pile of rubble, mostly sorted out, some of which has clearly been stolen, and sets of marker pegs in the ground- decision seems to have been made to demolish rather than repair, and build a new temple in what were formerly the grounds.
(Exactly clear where it once was- four small circles within a greater circle and the gaps between them, and the crescent that was the priests' quarters and stores; the Hall of Day facing south and the Hall of Night facing north, the Hall of the Living and the Hall of the Dead changing places season by season- that stone in the rubble painted white on three faces and black on three, the flagstones mostly still in place, the crypts- can a building die?)
The decision was obviously made by an idiot, because that's where the "difficult" graves are- people who have a high probability of getting up again or trying to, they don't go in the main cemetery where they can rest in peace, they go right next to the temple where they can have an eye kept on them. Given the not much happening, whoever was doing the rebuilding has probably just figured this out and gone away to have a think about it. Hopefully before they disturbed anybody malevolent.
Any follower of your god would have known that; why didn't they? Who would rebuild a temple to a god they don't understand, what kind of religious illiterate was responsible for this- not so much sacrilege, it was probably well meaning enough, but enormous stupidity? Where are the priests who should be here? Who would take responsibility, and think they know it all- Valdemiron, the chief of the gods. That would be it.
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