A dark foreboding atmosphere spreads as far as the eye can see, utterly cold and dry, the whistle of the wind causes dirt to whip through the air at a smallish figure clad entirely in dark colored robes. The figure walks for what seems to be hours, what was once a small, indecipherable shape looming up closer and closer to reveal a forest of enormous mushrooms. At the edge of the forest, the man stops and sighs, black eyes flitting about as he looks and listens for signs of trouble. "All clear. . ." the figure thinks, and slowly takes the first few steps in.
Another hour passes by uneventfully, and the figure reaches the base of the largest mushroom in the forest. The figure gawks up at the enormous fungus, and after one final deep breath, starts on his way up to the top, slowly and carefully so as to not slip. Once at the top, he sighs and looks around, seeing nothing he sits and waits.
A deep voice, sounding like the slow rumble of the mountains seems to come from nowhere.
Voice: Took your time. Come.
A very large, broad figure clad in very similar robes walks into sight, where he came from the smaller figure doesn't know. He stands up and turns just as the giant man takes a few steps towards the edge of the mushroom and takes a strong leap off of it, into the darkness. The smaller figure follows, hesitating momentarily before jumping himself. He lands, barely managing to roll with the fall, and disorienting himself, just to see the other sprinting across the lower canopy, eventually stopping at a higher, wider fungus. The small one follows slowly, not nearly as strong or long in the legs to take such powerful long strides, and upon reaching the stopping point is winded and breathing heavily.
The other man stares hard at the boy, and after a brief moment speaks once more.
Mentor: Your final test. Do not fail.
As soon as the words leave his lips, he suddenly charges forward, throwing a right hook with enough speed and force that it could be heard as the air parts around it. The boy just barely manages to dodge, rolling under it and behind the brute to come to his feet and take a kick to the stomach. Wincing from the pain, he manages to shake it off quickly enough to avoid the next few blows, enhancing his confidence in the fight.
The large man stays on the offensive for a long few minutes, his furious attacks missing by a hairs breadth more often than not. The boy eventually spots an opening in his masters' stance, and takes a swing. . .
The next time the boy awoke, he was laying on the ground in excruciating pain, his mentor staring down at him hard as he looms overhead.
Mentor: You failed for the last time. Do not bother following, exiled one.
The boy closes his eyes hard, and breathes heavily for a few moments longer before once more blacking out.
The Final Test
