Muiri Battle-born did not enter this world for battle, despite her family name and it's rich history for taking part in essential and frivolous fights. Many of her siblings and cousins were practically born with a weapon in their hands yet she was born with potions and herbs. She was not blessed with the blonde hair and blue eyes of House Battle-born either, instead she was given a mop of dark, curly hair and eyes the colour of apple pips to match by the Gods. Muiri was not lean and muscular in stature like the other girls her age either but slight and willowy despite her somewhat short height. Multiple times Muiri had been accused of being a bastard child, so many times that she had almost begun to believe it herself but the proof did not waver. She was a pure-blood of House Battle-born with no exceptions.
She stood on the crumbly parapets, her hands clenching an impressive halberd made from the legendary Battle-born steel. Her family's steel was heavier than the regular stuff, designed for the tough men and women of the clan, and Muiri's weapon felt as though she was carrying a stone brick. She badly wished to rest it on her shoulder for a short while, but doing so was considered a disgrace to her family and a sign of great weakness. The armour she carried was rather heavy too, silver in colour with her family's symbol plastered in vermillion on the left shoulder, characterising all the Battle-borns on the field. An axe, a sword and a bow, all connected in the centre and spread in different directions and surrounded by a red circle. Simple symbol for a clan of simple minds, yet almost everyone knew who it belonged to.
Muiri flinched as the horn blasted into her ear, ringing through her head several seconds after. People shoved past her and she turned, watching as they flocked to the Captain's words. She followed, not wanting to be left standing alone on the parapet for everyone to see.
"...to see people soil their britches, especially when those people are his soldiers." Muiri bit her lip as he said this, almost sure that she was bound to make a fool of herself down there. She nearly fell off the wall when soldiers pushed past her again, returning to their places on the partition.
Muiri felt her knees knocking together and her palms grow sweaty as the ground almost appeared to shake and shadows began to form, signalling the first signs that the savages were coming. Muiri bit her lip again, hard enough that she drew blood and could taste the metallic pang in her mouth. Any Battle-born would simply spit to remove it, but Muiri had to remind herself that she was simply not "any Battle-born", nor was she so barbaric as to just spit wherever she pleased. So she let the taste just hang there and begun to prepare herself to taste a lot more of it.