The Herald of Fereldan
After saving the world from the Blight and being shit on for setting Amaranthine on fire, Lowri Mahariel abandons the Grey Wardens and changes her name in an attempt to keep herself and Zevran safe from the Crows. She managed to stay undercover as Lowri Lavellan until the Conclave was called and her new Keeper forced her to scope the place out. That “being surrounded by the humans might give her a new perspective." Through a series of unfortunate events, Lowri is now once again tasked with saving the shems' world and holding their hands through the ordeal. But how long will it take for the “Herald of Andraste” to be recognized as the “Hero of Fereldan”?
Lowri sat back on her ankles. The room smelled like a shem prison dungeon and looked like a shem dungeon and, green light erupted from her left hand and she groaned, felt like a shem dungeon. At least this time Howe soldiers or Fort Drakon guards weren’t trying to kill her. To her understanding that was.
The four guards that stood around her holding blades hadn’t moved for a while. How long had it been? An hour? Two hours? The only source of light in the dank room were the few candles that dotted the far corners of the room and Lowri didn’t care enough to pay attention to how quickly they burned. All she knew was that these guards were shems and shems get tired. Eventually someone would have to relieve them.
She stared at the door in front of her and puffed her blonde bangs out of her face. Over the time of however long she had been sitting there, the short wisps of hair along her hair line had fallen out of the loose bun that sat at the nap of her neck. And, by the Creators, was the hair irritating. She kept it long in memory of Tamlen, her first love that she had lost nearly a decade ago at the start of the Fifth Blight. Plus she enjoyed Zevran’s constant compliments about it. But that, by no means, meant that she didn’t have her moments where she wanted to get rid of it all. Earlier she had cursed the chain that connected her restraints to the ground for being too short to let her brush her bangs back. Her guards didn’t seem to react to the Elvish swears and remained as stoic as ever.
More light erupted from her hand and it caught her off guard. Lowri gasped for air the door opened.
“Ma emma ha-” she snarled her threat when the door was completely, as the dark-haired female shem in purple leather stomped into the room “-rel.” She faltered when a familiar face appeared behind the angry one: Leliana.
Shit. Would the red-head blow her cover?
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