Rain poured down in buckets, washing the ashes away as he stood there... Tall, the man was dressed indark purple robes, with black trimmings on the seams, edges, collar and cuffs. A scarf style mask and wide brim hat, both matching his robes, shielded his unseen visage from the torrents of water. His equally violet shaded, oakleaf shaped pauldrons were wilted pathetically under the weight of so much water. The heavy, thick gloves on both hands creaked under the strain of long fingers, sheathed in the embersilk fabric, tightened their grip on a long, magestic crystaline staff of a dark blue shaft, ending up into a dark indigo crusifix centered on a flouting red orb... The center and end of the shaft wrapped in leathers. His billowing violet cloak would have flourished in the winds, were it not caught heavy by so much wetness...<br/><br/>Staring down, the man used a heafty travelers boot to nudge at the last of hte ash, watching the rain seperate it from dwarven arms and armor... The metal was all that remained. "Hmph... Rapists, really now?" Snorting derisively as he turned to look up, then down the canal walkway. Nobody. Good, he was unseen. Turning, he walked with an all too upright posture, one that seemed forced, as he folded one hand aristocratically behind his back, kneading the back of his hips with his knuckes. He had much work to do... Much work indeed, for city's did not fall to ruin unhelped...<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>