[Mousen]

(Bad post quality. XP)
I mean seriously. All these training threads are the same. It gets a little repetitive after a while, no? Well today, since myself (Hogarth Edgar Pontefract) is narrating you need not worry about such things.

[Mousen]

Now, where was I? Oh, right. The story line. I almost forgot there. That is something my dear friends a narrating muse should never do.

[Mousen]

Right, here we are. I hope I don't sound like something of a kid's programme. That would be most unfortunate. To the training bit now. I think.

[Mousen]

It was one of those crisp autumn mornings. You know the kind. The bitter chill of the wind was almost refreshing. Especially after the Indian summer Evelon had been having. The early morning sun shimmered off the dewy grass.

[Mousen]

The leaves were only starting to colour. The green slowly yellowing. The odd brown leaf was blown by a cool gentle wind. It spiraled down, landing on a pristine lawn, it was the first of many to follow.

[Mousen]

Morte frowned. It had been too long since he had left the circus. Trust me when I say that place gets boring. The shows there were fantastic. But the company? Not so much.

[Mousen]

He looked around at the early autumn splender the park had to offer. It wasn't yet filled with people. Only a select few of the early birds were here. Perhaps feeding Mr.Wilsons or just stopping to enjoy the scenery before heading to work. The odd pet ran through the grass, enjoying the still rising sun.

[Mousen]

Morte leant against a tree. His bright green eyes watching a matches singing. We wondered if it were going to burst into flames anytime soon. He hoped not. Such a messy buisness.

[Mousen]

Out of nowhere he summonded three balls of light. Witchlights. Two hung close to his palms. The other hung ifront of his face. Forming a perfect triangle.

[Mousen]

Under the shade of the tree the glowing spheres were very visible. They glowed with a soft golden light. The hard part was making them solid. After a moment of concentration each of the three spheres fell into his hands.

[Mousen]

Morte smiled and began to juggle. He was a preformer at heart. A circus preformer at that. He was very good at what he did. He wouldn't have been accepted by Silas otherwise.

[Mousen]

Soon a small crowd had gathered around him. Some seemed to be looking for something to place a few keystones in. Though Morte wasn't here for money. He juggled becuse he loved to do so. The crowds applause was a bonus too.

[Mousen]

The juggling got faser and higher. They left streaks of light in the air. Soon blue, green and pink spheres joined the gold. A whole rainbow passed over his hands as he juggled.

[Mousen]

The crowd was impressed. Other people joined came to see what was happening. They weren't disapointed. They 'oooed' and 'aahed' in all the right places.

[Mousen]

Morte was a good juggler. He hadn't dropped anything in years. Though it was only through practising until his palsm were rubbed raw that he got to be where he was today. Some of the kinder people dropped keystones on the floor by his feet. Morte knew better than to refuse them; the wages he got preforming were livable, though a little extra would always come in handy.