Watching the individual recruits gather proved a bit nostalgic for Scout. While accruing them one at a time had been unceremonious, this Joining reminded him of when the Legion would make their way into a thaig, where criminals and fools would line up to join their number, before having the ritual funeral.

The faces here weren't dwarves, of course. As mages -- and one a Tal-Vashoth -- they were quite disparate from the Stone-honoring folk Scout had seen exclusively for most of his life. For this reason more than the open sky, the Surface still felt alien to him.

The other.... Was it a Qunari? Scout didn't much understand the distinctions of that culture, aside from the basic Tal-Vashoth opposition to the Qunari. Regardless: the soldier did not totally approve of someone who was not joining their ranks being present for their rituals. He did not complain though, as it was not his place, and the enormous warrior would be fighting alongside them despite nomenclature.

When the time came, and the Commander called for the collected to Join, Scout finally stood from his splitting block. Taking the cup, he made a point not to grimace at the contents, or their smell. Darkspawn blood was marginally less palatable than Ferelden cuisine, and the odor betrayed this. After some small delay, he slowly downed his portion of the dark stuff, ignoring the taste. When this was complete, he returned the cup to Commander Levine, and made his way back to his spot.

Then it was time to watch the others. Scout faintly wondered which would live, if either did. More distinctly, he recalled the vision of the Archdemon he'd had the night after his own first exposure to the Taint. It had been something of a shock, since dwarves, as a rule, don't dream.