Millar nodded and chuckled mentally in his mind, 'Me a monk?  Ah how father would react to that.'  He walked ot the founain and drew his blade, carefully he stood erect, his crest slowly perking all the way up as he lifted up his bloodied blade.<br/>"Gods forgive me for the blood I've spilt..."  He gently rubbed the tip of the sword from the top of his crest down to the tip of his nose, then he leaned down and reached into the fountain to cleanse his blade.  The memories of his blade were strong.  Just touching it sent surges of adrenalin through his body as his past deeds were remembered.  After wiping the bloodied water off with a rag he carried, he gently resheathed his sword and knelt before the pool.