The receptionist smiles at you gently. “Please touch the orb to determine your rank within the guild, sir.” The orb she is referring to is a milky-white glass ball that is about three times larger than any human palm that would be placed on it. The ball sits in an indent within the receptionists desk at chest level.
Despite the fact that the attractive brunette receptionist behind the counter called you sir, the crowd gathered around the desk snickers. You are younger and more slight than most of the other men in the hall, so you understand why they think it is amusing. This is undoubtedly a common sight. Someone that does not know their own strength coming in, only to be rejected. Many of the people who have assembled from the class of individuals who are not being tested are very likely here just to gawk at those deluded individuals that think they have what it takes to become an adventurer, but actually do not. You know you are not among them. You confidently press your palm against the pale-white orb. During the brief pause of the milky-white interior swirling and coalescing, it briefly occurs to you that you are deluded. That your effort was play and that the people around you were lying about your ability. These thoughts cause the five or so seconds of calibration to drag until finally the color begins to change.