Green haze and nervous flittering of birds, sensations of moist bark beneath bare feet, all there was to be felt in the forest flowed over the patient hunter. Not his preferred stalking grounds, but some forest was far greater than none at all, the jungle a distant memory despite this. He slowly exhaled, breathing in the marginally thinner air high above in the branches of a tall oak. Down below, a lone figure in human armour, the Loa spoke of him softly and the troll fell enthralled to its dreadful embrace. 

Gangly, but hunched over in his scant tribal attire, the powerfully built dark-green skinned troll peered down with all-seeing eyes through the leaves. He clutched the trunk in his left hand as he crouched, his right holding a voodoo staff. For now his bag of wards remained unused on his back, and a sharp sacrificial knife waited hungrily at his hip. The human looked alert, it was safe to say, but vulnerable in the forest. Still, it did not stop it from retreating to leafy cover after examining the crater. 

Quick, nimble steps, his experience in bush craft carried Jaldoa the troll hexmaster across the canopy and only fifteen feet horizontally from his prey. He tilted his head as he considered his options for striking down his foe. Without knowing the creatures capabilities he assumed caution would be of use, and so dropped his Ward of Warning on the side of the tree he now lurked atop on the opposite side of his opponent. It fell quietly, crushing through leaves and standing tall but obscured, though some noise was inevitable.

Jaldoa moved quickly, as soon as the Ward left his hand he slid half-way down the tree and bounced backwards, turning in mid-air to drop towards his foe quiet and lethally. His staff clutched in both hands mid-movement and driven downwards with immense force, so as to catch his armour-clad foe on the neck or head with a classical vertical strike.