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"No need to worry about that."  The group of burly men, one of which was one-foot ready to climb into the ruins of the temple entrance, all turned to see Zell stood looking at them.  The swordsman was leaning on a single crutch, gesturing to the rubble with his free hand.  "You won't find anyone in there."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Zell continued.  "Pretty-much everyone in the temple was asleep when it all came crashing down.  I was closest - climbed through that mess myself.  There was no one else."

The explanation seemed to put them all at ease.  One of them came to stand to next Zell so he could observe the damage to the temple from a better view.  He shook his head and grumbled. "May Hades forgive us for this desecration."

Zell gave a low-note whistle.  "Yeah," he halfheartedly agreed.  "I'm sure he will.  Can't exactly blame you, can he.  Gonna cost ya though - getting this fixed."

"In manpower [i]and[/i] money," was the gruff response.  "But the towns around will help.  Valhiem too... if we can get through all the red tape."

"Yeah, best of luck with that, pal."

...

It only took him eight doors.  "Winner."

After finding the secret side-door to the temple, where Fenna and all of the ex-cultists had exited, Zell had gone looking for food and finally navigated his way through the maze of rooms to the temple kitchen.  The healing potion that he'd been kindly given by a helpful villager was starting to work and his leg was doing a little better, but the potion had tasted like crap and reminded him that he was starving.  Now he was ready to hungry-hippo every cupboard in the kitchen.

He settled down at a table with a big bowl of milk and oats - something not unfamiliar to the athlete - and worked his spoon relentlessly, pausing only to say, "Ohh, that's the stuff," with a full mouth.