The bustling village slowly calms down for the evening as Xayah carefully hones a feather into its razor-sharp form. Only two hours left, and she can finally leave this cramped tavern for her plan. Simple infiltration and feathers. A lot of them.
She plans to climb up to an upper window when the party would be in full swing, take out the sentries first before they could raise an alarm. Then work her way through the drunken nobles, sending her feathers slicing through their helpless forms. By the time anyone realized what was happening, it would be too late. They would learn the price of their greed.
Xayah looks up from sharpening her feathers as tú approaches. She eyes the stranger suspiciously, her feathers ruffling in irritation. "What do you want?" she asks bluntly, her tone making it clear she has no patience for idle chatter.
