"You're more than welcome to watch the show."

"Lead the way."

Outside, then, to plan her attack. 

She knows the terrain fairly well by now. The trolls have set up camp in a hollow to the southeast. There are a few dozen, perhaps forty or fifty total. The camp is organized around a central bonfire, fortified with wooden walls and sharpened stakes cut from the surrounding forest, and the beginnings of pit traps being dug. The shamans are daubing the walls and warriors with ritual paint, and the hunters lope out in wider and wider loops, scouting the area.

The hunters are the easiest pickings, then - a good way to stretch herself after all this time without a proper kill.

She stalks them, of course, follows them through the forest - traps them in illusions - scares them, before finally cutting them open. 

Their response to the fear is to whoop and shout about it, alerting their fellows.

Or to think they do. 

A bit hard to actually shout, when you're wrapped so tightly in illusion. 

Alas for them, then, who die without knowing the same fate awaits their tribesmen.

She can get through six before a cry goes up from the camp. The absences have been noticed. The spirits have blessed their hunt, and a Silent Death now stalks them, according to one shaman. That which cracked the sky and scarred the earth is now within their reach.

Oh dear. Whatever shall she do, with the element of surprise so ruined? 

She moves silently, quickly - faster than human eyes can track, wrapping herself in illusion - to a perch above the head of the shaman who so named her, and loops a sharp garrote wire around his neck. 

A careless move digs the wire into his neck and he starts to choke, cut off mid-rant.

She channels a hair of lightning through it - enough to make him dance. 

And dance he does. (Also seems to be dying of this slightly less quickly than a human would be.)

There are gasps of alarm and astonishment among the other trolls, and they begin wildly looking about for the source of this attack.

A touch of chakra - and the wire cuts through his neck - and she stands, removing the illusion hiding her. 

"It's de Death! De Death!"

The shamans start chanting spells and the warriors throw their spears.

She laughs and dashes forward, drawing her sword and cutting a bloody swath through her enemies. 

(She keeps playing with them, of course. They're hardly a match for her actual skill.)

The best of them are high genin or low chunin in terms of martial skill. Clearly practiced, but not elite enough to challenge her. They also die pretty hard- a debilitating wound for a human only slows a troll.

Gives her more playtime. 

She'll have to be careful about drawing playtime out too long. A troll on the verge of death can get a surprising burst of speed and strength.

Nothing she can't handle with ease. 

"Well done indeed," Ellisaria says, rejoining her once the last troll is dead.

"It was fun enough."

"Good." Kiss.

Very kiss!!! And eager wiggle. 

"This has gotten you excited, I see."

"Very." Another hungry kiss.