[i]Zande would have been crouching behind a pillar across from where the woman moved, topless save for his grimy black cloak. He'd be sheltered in the darkness, watching the woman roll inside after being startled by his pet. The moment he had heard its initial cry, he'd have darted to his vantage point to scope out the situation. A lone woman. And she was white. The headhunter was just about to reveal himself to try and seduce her when suddenly the freak sprouted some ink wings. Dayum. He hadn't seen any white woman like that before. Better safe than sorry. He'd remove his bamboo blowpipe and black dart, taking just a moment to poke it the top of a small leather flask before loading it into the pipe. Inland taipan venom. Without medicine, a poke to the limbs meant that death would come in roughly an hour. Incapacitation in forty minutes. Dizziness, severe muscle crampimg, and physical illness in fifteen. If it struck the neck, all of that would occur in less than half the time. 

He'd take a moment to pick up a small rock, weighing it in his hand and watching the woman. He'd wait until she was looking away before giving it a good chuck into the air, aiming for it to fly up and out of view before clacking on the other side of the room. He wanted her to be distracted. He wanted her to concentrate nice and hard on something for a second, and leave herself open. He wanted to nail her left calf, where the wings might be unlikely to get in the way were she to be startled. Zande would time his shot to occur an instant after the rock landed, desiring the faint "fwup" of the blowpipe to be partially disguised by the noise of the much louder echo of the rock. The dart would be virtually invisible in the dim lighting.[/i]