Note: This story is another sword-and-sandal style snuff story in which a beefy hero fights a staple of erotic monsters: a vine/tentacle horror. It has no connection to any other story and can be enjoyed on its own.
Urdin silently watched his prey, listening over the roar of a nearby waterfall. His targets, a pair of well-armed and well-built hobgoblin guards, stood watch over the entrance of the cave that served as their hideout. Urdin raked their bodies with his eyes, spotting and mapping every muscle and artery in the tan-skinned, hairy goblinoids. He knew every bone and sinew in a hobgoblin, and knew just where to strike to kill one; this knowledge had been beaten into his head ever since he was a child pretending to be a warrior. All he needed was an opportunity.
It was because of this specialized training that Urdin had been hired for the mission. The village of Waterford could not afford the tribute the hobgoblins demanded, and faced destruction at their hands. In exchange for what payment they did muster, Urdin agreed to end the threat. Though the death of their leader would be more than sufficient to break the hobgoblins’ hold on Waterford, the sturdy assassin couldn’t pass up the opportunity to remove a few more of his favorite enemy from the world.
“Hold on a second,” The slightly smaller, bald hobgoblin spoke. “I need to take a piss.” Urdin peered down from the rock face above the cave, and watched as one guard strolled away toward a boulder near the cave mouth. The hobgoblin concealed his lower half behind it with his back turned to his companion, and whistled a tune.
