He - stares, sort of. (He didn't hear a voice, but he sort of got a distance - whiff of flowers? is the best way he can describe it.)

... Right. Empyreal lord.

"It is Castle Corvischor, and once the lords of Varno ruled from there. It is said to be haunted." He pauses. "... There is a story that may be true - that there was a count, Ristomaur Tiriac - first of that name, ours is the fourth and he is far away - young and brave and full of promise who was unjustly slain, and that his servants - from this very town - tried a dark ritual to save his life, to save his life whatever the price."

"Since then, nothing that lived has ever entered the castle has returned, but they say in the village the dead count's horn still sounds in the hills, hunting in death as he did in life, and none of the monsters that afflict other villages come to us here save man alone, because he remembers that whatever darkness the servants unleashed in their folly, it was love that drove them to the deed."

"That sounds like a problem I am qualified to solve!"

"May all the gods aid you," he says warmly. "- The spell to translate is on me, not you; I don't have another one today, but I can give you a spell to let you understand other languages?"

"--Oh, that's a good thought. And can I give you a sentence or two to translate--you can say them in the local language, and I can transliterate them to say to people--"

Sure, he'll do that! What phrases does she want?

"The spell will only last for fifty minutes," he warns, "and it is only the literal meaning."

And he will then tap her while holding his holy symbol and invoking Pharasma's name, and suddenly she can understand him even if he wants to speak Taldane instead of English, which was the language she first spoke to him in.

The sentences she would like from him are: 

"I am powerful and from very far away and I do not speak the language." 

"I currently have Comprehend Languages up." 

"Hello I have come to solve death-related problems, please direct me to your death-related problems please and thank you." 

(If he has any other suggestions for sentences she might find useful she is totally taking suggestions!)

He can provide those! He also suggests "Yes," "No," "Maybe," "It's complicated," and "A goddess sent me," if she can memorize all those!

"... Do you know which goddess?" he'll ask.

"...She, uh, seemed less with the fighting evil and more with the boundless compassion for all living things?" she hazards. 

"Sarenrae," he says immediately. "Neutral Good. 'Sarenrae sent me,' then?"

She nods and writes down transliterations of all the things. 

Great!

The castle is looking very gothic and loomy, over there allll the way at the other end of the lake where the forest has grown up and nobody goes.

She strides off towards it. 

Once she is out of potential freaking-out view of the village and the Pharasman priest, she takes off her shoes, and rearranges her lower body, and flies the rest of the way there. She doesn't want to waste more of the Comprehend Languages duration than she has to. 

She touches down in front of the castle gates, reverts her legs to a humanoid configuration, steps into her slippers, and, turning her hand diamond, knocks VERY firmly on the castle gate. 

"HELLO. I AM POWERFUL AND FROM VERY FAR AWAY AND DO NOT SPEAK THE LANGUAGE. I HAVE COMPREHEND LANGUAGES UP. I HAVE COME TO SOLVE DEATH-RELATED PROBLEMS, PLEASE DIRECT ME TO YOUR DEATH-RELATED PROBLEMS PLEASE AND THANK YOU. SARENRAE SENT ME," she yells, with a slightly more than human voice. 

The castle gates have a moat, which she can, obviously, fly across!

Her fist strikes the door, and there is a... pause...

The door slowly creaks open, giving her enough time to get out of the way first. There's a portcullis. It lifts. There's a long, dark, gloomy passageway with murder holes in the ceiling above and more portcullises (steadily lifting) and another door.

She sees nothing particularly ominous about this and will stroll* right in!

*Power-walk; she doesn't want to waste spell duration. But, like, cheerfully. 

The last door creaks ominously open as she approaches!

There are a lot of people waiting in the courtyard when she gets there. Most of them are ghosts. Some of them are various types of nonhumans she doesn't recognize, like three-feet-tall blue-skinned white-haired-and-eyed people, or huge stone monsters with claws and fangs who look sort of like decorative castle gargoyles. Most of them are carrying weapons or under magical effects. There's probably more people waiting in ambush!

At their head is a black-haired, ruby-eyed man in formal dress that is actually not that different from the formal dress of London Below, if rather old-fashioned; he is visibly magical. He carries a hunting bow (magic) and has a quiver of arrows (magic) and has a wide variety of other magical items on him, as do a number of the other people present. At his feet is a very large black wolf or wolf-dog, which looks at her with a not-quite animal intelligence and as though it is considering ripping her throat out if she gets anywhere near the man.

"Count Ristomaur Tiriac," he says. "Count of Varno," he says, bowing. "I have Tongues active, so we can speak freely. I believe you have the advantage of me, ma'am?"

(He bows with his upper body very straight, not taking his eyes off of hers for more than the briefest moment.)

She curtsies. "Lucy Whitman, the Light-Hearted Wastelander, daughter of the Mountain of Light. Are you dead? I can make you stop being dead." 

"Charmed."

"Do you know, this is a very plausible story," says Count Ristomaur Tiriac, who has been working on this exact goddamn thing for two hundred years. "Nonetheless it seems more narrowly plausible that the Church of Sarenrae sent you, if it did send you, to put an end to the un-life which, cursed though it is, I still prefer to the Hell that awaits me when I die."

His eyes study her expression, and she can tell that he's making - some effort to influence her? which has no effect whatsoever.

"--No, not, like, the Church of Sarenrae, I'm from really really far away, and I landed on that village over there, and I wanted to orient but I didn't want to bother anybody, so I resurrected someone from the graveyard, and he told me, that you guys have gods and a way more complicated afterlife situation than I do, and I was like, 'oh, I should go to Hell to resurrect people and fight Asmodeus,' and he was like 'consider praying to Iomedae before attempting to fight Asmodeus,' so I tried to pray to Iomedae, but instead I got someone that the guy said was Sarenrae, and she said that there were people in the castle who could use my help!"

"... I would think you were just insane, but in fact your aura of Good and Chaos has reached the level where it is simply too bright to distinguish the great from the greater." He's not drawing his bow, or even raising it, yet.

"Nonetheless, a cleric of the sixth circle has reached that strength of aura, and I kill multiple such every century for attempting to destroy me." His expression is dispassionate, polite, considered. "I would ask you for an oath that your intentions are positive towards me, but you are Chaotic."

She plants her hands on her hips. "I don't obey laws very much, because people who make laws where I'm from aren't Good, but I can keep my own word."

"The word of some Chaotic people can be trusted, the word of others cannot be, and I have only your word that you will keep your word. I can expend a scroll of Zone of Truth, but you are certainly powerful enough to resist it if you choose, and if your story is as you say you moreover have no reason to think it is not a scroll of Dominate Monster or some other hostile enchantment, instead, that would be very unwise not to resist."

"So, you don't trust my intentions, but you do want to be more alive than you currently are, and if I am telling the truth you would agree?"

"Precisely. I am in no hurry to verify your intentions, to be clear; we may be able to -"

She lights up. 

For a moment, it is brighter than noon on a cloudless day. 

Every dead person--Count Tiriac, every ghost, any other vampires, any other undead of any stripe--are restored to full, breathing flesh, hearts pumping liquid blood through bodies that need it. Any greenery in the castle courtyard perks up, growing lusher and thicker; dead seeds scattered on the ground awaken and sink in roots. 

It's all over in less than half a round.