The Graf was found cowering in a supply closet. Graf Von Donkeubruk had been a powerful man in his youth as was testified by his ropey muscles and the several portraits of him which hung around the place. Time however had not been kind to the man, he was emaciated and his flesh seemed to have withered on his bones. There was no logical justification for it but Camilla had the impression that he had lost every pound his wife had gained. The Graf's skin looked patchy, as though it had been painted on rather than growing naturally.

"Is it over?" the old Graf asked, his voice trembling. Camilla helped him out of the closet and deposited him on a setae. He blinked vaguely and then seemed to focus on the mercanaries and his wife. The grafin rushed up to her husband. She had lost the axe but her clothing was a ruin and her cheeks were flushed with her recent exertions.

"You are alive!" she gasped, enfolding the Graf in a hug that threatened to smoother him. Camilla averted her eyes politely for several seconds until the couple could compose themselves.

"Do you have any idea why these... things would attack your home?" Camilla asked after a moment. The Graf looked compltely baffled.

"My dear, I'm afraid I dont have the slightest clue."