Conlan couldn't help it. From the second he found out that this whole process could be fatal, he'd been itching to question it. To throw jibes and barbs. Weren't Grey Wardens supposed to be the best? They'd been around for centuries and had yet to figure out a way to do this without killing at least some of "the best?" But he looked at Alistair as he spoke, and could hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes. The Warden Commander had carried the burden of those deaths. He hadn't chalked them up to necessary casualties. He hadn't written them off as unworthy. It wasn't something Conlan had expected. Not from a man who supposedly had royal blood. And after seeing it, he didn't have the heart to say anything.
The whole thing had shocked Conlan so much that he barely missed it when Alistair called his name. Which was almost as shocking. Shouldn't the more important recruits go first? Con was so confused that he barely spoke a word until he found himself standing in front of the Warden Commander and reaching out to take the over-sized cup. He looked down at it and took a breath.
"Eh, it's not the first time I've imbibed something that was likely to kill me." He let out the breath slowly. "Well... I guess... bottoms up right?"
He tilted the cup back, feeling the putrid mixture fall down his throat. He suddenly realized he had no idea how much to drink, but it didn't matter, since he couldn't get more then a sip down. He pulled the cup from his lips, letting out a gagging sound, and handing it back to Alistair. He shook his head to clear it and tried to grin.
"Well, it tastes like..." And then he felt it, waves of pain in his stomach, that made the one time he actually was poisoned seem like a happy memory that he was almost desperate to relive. He shut his eyes tight as the pain spread from his stomach to the rest of his body. There was a ringing in his ears, but it wasn't a ringing. It was a roar, a terrible blood curdling scream. Primal and terrible, and beyond anything that should ever exist in Thedas.
But it was more then that for Conlan, because he had heard it before.
It brought back memories of being surrounded in a burning city, of days when his dreams were shattered, and he was left burnt and alone in the world. And it wasn't just a roar. It was images, he saw the Archdemon, he saw the horde, and wished it was a terrible nightmare, because if it were a nightmare at least it wouldn't be real. It was without question, the most horrible sensation Conlan had ever experienced. He opened his eyes as quick as he could to escape the vision, but it was still there. Burned into his eyes so that no matter what he did, he couldn't unsee it. He reached his hands to the side of his head, he tried to cry out, but his voice caught in his throat.
And then it was over. All at once his strength left him, his knees gave out, and the world went dark as he collapsed to the cold stone floor.