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The guy he'd been before Deus Ex wouldn't have recognized him now, Jordan reflected as he headed towards the portals that led to the training courses. Sure, he'd done some running and other exercise, but he'd been in all of one fight throughout his school career, and that one had ended without injury to anyone due to a teacher's timely intervention, and he'd been pretty much grateful for that. Now he was on his way to the Sun training course, intending to crush as many tiny monsters as possible on his way through, and feeling a distinct if quiet satisfaction at the thought of taking out his stresses through overt physical violence.

Humans are weird, Ferros commented. Your schools don't teach battle?

Oh yes, and there was the whole telepathically bonded sentient weapon thing, which, while it had its drawbacks from time to time, he could no longer imagine life without. I don't really think football counts. Maybe in schools with rugby teams. Or wrestling. But it's all strictly regulated stuff.

Weird, Ferros repeated. Are we almost there? I'm hungry.

"You're always hungry," Jordan said, and summoned his weapon, swinging the hammer up to rest across his shoulder as he walked. "Just give me a minute, I did my run this morning."

Someone came around the corner at just precisely the wrong moment, stepping out directly into Jordan's path; it was too late to stop in time, and Jordan crashed straight into the smaller figure, bouncing back with a soft huff of breath. "Sorry," he said automatically, focusing on the person. Smallish, blond, carrying a rifle almost as tall as he was. Jordan smiled a little sheepishly. "Gale, right?"

He readjusted his hold on Ferros, who was grumbling quietly about being knocked about and people who couldn't look where they were going. Whether he meant Jordan, Gale, or both was unclear. It's called an accident, Ferros. It happens.

I'm huuuuungry, the dragon whined.

Jordan grimaced, then realized that that could easily be misinterpreted. "Ferros is bitching about being hungry," he explained. Gale had summoned his weapon; perhaps the boy was on his way to the training courses as well. "We're about to go squish some shadowlings. You going to the courses too?" he asked.

Jordan nodded. "Right," he said. It wasn't like there were that many new trainees on the island, but he didn't really expect anyone to remember his name, apart from his own team, of course. He hadn't exactly been particularly social, after all. He was vaguely flattered that Gale remembered.

"It sucks when they're grumpy," he said sympathetically. He'd spent the past few days enduring Ferros's irritable needling and jealous behavior; the weapon's temper was still on a hair-trigger, and Jordan had quietly resolved to do his damndest never to touch anyone else's weapon again, no matter how compelling the reason, if Ferros was going to act like this afterwards. "You can't exactly get away from it."

Hey.

You've been being an a**, Jordan pointed out.

Can't get away from me, Ferros shot back.

Ignoring him sounded like a really good idea right now. "Yeah, me too," Jordan agreed. "What course are you doing?" Probably a stupid question, but hey, he could at least be friendly, right?

Jordan laughed. "Ferros is usually pretty laid-back, but I pissed him off a few days back and he still hasn't forgiven me." He gave the rifle - Jinhai - an interested glance. "He's a dragon too? What kind? Ferros was an iron dragon - mechanical, I think. At least, that's the impression I get."

The finest kind of dragon, Ferros said haughtily. None of your organic silliness. I am entirely metal. Powerful and beautiful.

"And egotistical," Jordan said, and grinned at the outraged huff he got for the comment.

"I was going to the Shadow Run," he offered. "Plenty of tiny monsters to smash." He hesitated briefly; Gale's rifle wasn't exactly a melee weapon, and he wasn't sure how well Jinhai would do against hordes of shadowlings, but they were all expected to handle any kind of challenge, weren't they? "Want to come with?" he offered. "Or, well - I haven't tried the Deathsweeper, but I guess I should try all the courses."

"Well, there are dragon legends in every culture," Jordan said thoughtfully. "I suppose they had to have come from somewhere. Makes a certain amount of sense that there'd be many types. Jinhai sounds - Chinese?" he guessed. "I know that long is the Chinese word for dragon. Might be something about it in the library."

Did you know that "long" is the Chinese word for "full of themselves?"

I'm not repeating that, Ferros. Jordan managed not to roll his eyes at his weapon's snickering.

"Good to have some company," Jordan said, and started off towards the courses again. "Of course, now I'll have to be sure not to fail." He grinned sideways at Gale.

"You raise a very valid point. I get the distinct feeling that the hazing doesn't end until we're fully qualified. Probably not then, either." Jordan shrugged the shoulder that didn't have a large hammer resting across it. "It must be one of the recreation options. Go to the gym, read a book, or torment the latest trainees."

The portals for the courses loomed out of the mist at the edge of the training grounds. Jordan paused, glancing sideways at Gale. ... No, he wasn't going to ask if Gale was sure he wanted to do this. Younger or not, the guy had gone through the same ordeals, been chosen by a weapon, and survived the hellish mission that had been the haunted house; he deserved the respect of being assumed competent, as least as much as Jordan was. Instead, he asked, "Ready?"

((I'll paste in the course setup in my next post - work for you?))

He sensed more than saw the attack massing behind him; lunging forward and out of the way lost him a chance to attack. Ferros snarled frustration in his head.