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Morn ran her hand through her hair. It was messy but soft to the touch. She unconsciously did this in times of stress to help calm her down. She was quickly wandering around her tribe, desperately seeking help. The tall slightly pale green female orc strode so quickly that it caused her breasts and butt to bounce. Her muscular frame allowed for quick movements and her white body paint stayed on her dispite her sweat. The head of the tribe announced a fighting tournament. No weapons and no rules. Killing and crippling are frowned upon, but besides that anything goes. Power is power and victory is victory. That is the orc way.

Morn knew that defeat is not a fun prospect and she tasted it in the last tournament. She had been defeated thoroughly by a male orc named Duma. It had been a fair fight but that still stung Morn, figuratively and literally. She couldn't stomach being knocked out of the tournament in the first round by the same person twice. She knew she needed some major advantage. Darting around she found the answer: the shaman hut.

She made her way inside and had had to squint her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Even in the heat of her homeland she could feel the temperature go up a few dozen degrees in the hut. Many strange potions and what she could only guess were magical devices lined countless shelves. She knew little of the workings of magic, but definitely knew its power.

When her eyes adjusted to the darkness she jumped at seeing the painted figure sitting motionless in the back of the tent. In Morns tribe painting yourself was an everyday occurrence. Simple patterns were considered common wear and complex patterns were for formal occasions. The shaman was painted in a dark purple from head to toe, with white patterns that were ment to look like bones. She was significantly older than Morn and would have stood a full head shorter than the orc witch doctor.

"Why were you just sitting there like that?" Asked Morn

"Can't I nap in my own hut? And what ever happened to announcing your presence before you enter?" Scolded the shaman as she grabbed a staff and stood up.

Morn apologized and explained her predicament. She asked if there was anything the shaman with all of her great magics could do to help.

The skull painted woman thought for a moment then responded. "Have ya tried hitting his stones? Usually works."

Without skipping a beat Morn responded "I did last fight but he still managed to put me in a submission hold until I passed out."

"What about hitting them really hard?"

"I need actual help!" Said back Morn.

"Well, there is a legendary hero who is said to live in the mountains up in the north. If you sought him out you could-"

Morn cut her off "My fight is in half an hour. I need something right now!"

The shaman sighed and walked to the would be warrior. Placing a hand on her shoulder she spoke "there are many paths an orc can walk. Maybe the way of the warrior isn't for you. I've seen you grow up from a pup, you've never had the fire a fighter needs."

"I know its the right path for me. Warrior orcs blood is in my veins."

The shaman sighed. "You never knew your parents. Or even your grandparents. You dont-" she stopped herself when she saw the look in Morns eyes. Morns features that were softer than a usual orc, skin a more muted shade of green, even her posture being more uptight. She scratched her cheek and walked to a shelf. "There is an old potion. Our tribe dosnt use it anymore and hasn't for many many years. I doubt anyone besides me knows of it. It stops the body from feeling pain for some time." She grabbed a dark green bottle. Handing it to Morn she continued.

"When you drink this you'll feel the effects right away. A lack of pain may be able to get you through this fight. But be careful-"

She looked up and saw that morn had already chugged the entire bottle and was handing it back. "Thank you! I owe you a ton for this!"

The shaman was about to yell at Morn for not listening but couldn't bring herself to do so when she felt the wannabe warriors arms around her. She returned the hug and simply said "try to win fast."

Morn stood at the lip of the fight pit. She was fully naked and had touched up her body paint, swirls and lines darted her entire body. Less combat oriented tribespeople just finished up their fight. The battle had not been serious and only their immediate families were watching. Morn was next in the tournament. She looked into the now empty pit, remembering its legacy. Countless battles took place in this arena, from minor scuffles to blood feuds. The tournament being held currently varied in the intensity of its fights. Non combatants having good natured scraps, hardened warriors engaging in bloody fist fights to show off martial dominance, and uneven matches being glorified sparing.

The pit itself was nothing glorious but Morn felt honored to step in it. It was basically a hole in the ground, surrounded by planks of decorated and blood stained wood. The groud was a hard dirt. She allowed herself to breathe in the atmosphere. This is the place where warrirors proove their worth and where leaders are made.

She was brought back to reality by a familar voice greeting her. Duma shouted a hello and jumped into the pit. He was built like a proper orc. He hunced forward some and had prominent lower frangs. As per the rules of the tournament he stood fully naked. He had more jagged patterns of red adorning his body. He wasnt a full fledged warrior, being primarily a hunter, but he took place in a few big game hunts. The fact that a hunter who didn't even battle predators bested her last time ate at her pride. Morn had to look up to face Duma. Orc women and men usually stood eye to eye and both usually featured the same hunch and prominent teeth. Morn stood fully upright and while she still had pronounced teeth they were much more subdued. Morn often cursed herself for being so different. She was often picked on growing up due to being different and for being an orphan. But she knew that proving her strength would prove them wrong. Strength is strength.

"You are looking bone skinny there, Morn. I'm guessing you didn't eat too well from your last hunt." He said with a snicker.

Morn never told her tribe about her run in with the goblins, opting to tell half truths and saying her prey got away.

Morn spat in the dirt. "For someone who prides himself on being a hunter you never seek worthy prey. Only hunting the weak."

Duma stood face to face with Morn now. "Kinda like what I'm gonna be doing in a second."

Morn bared her teeth in anger. The both of them were torn away from each other when the voice of the shaman distracted them. "Break it up you two. You will fight only when I say so. Now get to opposite sides."

The shaman took her place and sat lazily on the lip of the pit. She was the only one watching, the fights between real warriors being the ones that gathered big crowds. A higher ranking orc usually oversaw these sanctioned matches, mostly help stop the loss of life. As the two combatants walked away the dark purple painted orc spoke up. "You two will fight as you see fit. It will end when one is unconscious or surrenders. When I call for a stop both of you will stop immediately. Do I make myself clear?"

Both in the pit grunted in acknowledgment. The shaman yelled for them to begin.

The two charged at each other. Morn knew that Duma would be wild and furious, as an orc is one to be, and anticipated a massive swing. Duma did such and Morn was able to dodge it. Morn wasn't the strongest or the fastest among her tribe so she did her best to be the smartest. Whenever a fight between notable warriors was scheduled in the pit she was always there to take in whatever knowledge she could. She learned to predict certain movements before they happened.

She took advantage of this and delivered a quick series of punches to the male orcs chest, ending with a blow to the liver. He stumbled back a few steps before catching himself. He placed both hands on his wounded midsection before he saw the leg of Morn sailing between his legs. Suddenly the pain in his abdomen was dwarfed by the pain radiating between his legs. Morn felt her opponent's green testicles be compressed between the top of her foot and his pelvis. This time his legs gave out completely as he fell to his knees clutching himself. He looked up at Morn who was standing triumphantly with her hand on her hips.

"Aw, big bad Duma down after a few hits from weak prey?" She said mockingly. Orcs were strong and resistant, but a low blow is still a low blow. Pounding a fist into the dirt he dragged himself back up. Morn let him get up, feeling a sense of superiority. When the red painted orc fully arose he tossed a handful of dirt into the womans face. With her eyes temporarily useless Duma rushed forward.

"How do you like it?" He shouted as he kicked forward with all his might. Morn was lifted off her feet by the impact. Duma got a good view of his opponents ample breasts bouncing and any audience members behind her got to see a healthy butt jiggle. Morns eyes went wide and her heart raced, ready to be overwhelmed with pain. When her feet hit the ground again Morn instinctively shot her hands to her vagina, ready to sooth away the pain that was coming. Duma already chuckled, seeing the female orc get a taste of crotch pain.

However the pain never came. Morn smiled knowing that the potion worked perfectly. She felt no pain at all. She let go of her green pussy and returned her hands to her hips. She realized that this seemed a bit fishy, not wanting to admit to using a potion. "Where were you aiming? I don't have any balls." Morn said with as much confidence as she could muster. She quickly looked around the lip of the pit, seeing that no orcs were in fact watched besides the shaman. Who looked worried and was holding her own crotch in sympathy. Morn took this to mean that she was imagining the pain Morn should be feeling, which was understandable. Vagina hits hurt like hell. But she was hoping dumb Duma wasn't sure about that anymore.

The male orc did look genuinely confused. He was positive he saw a girl get hit there before and saw it hurt. But his profession as a hunter never put him in fist fighting much. Morn cocked her hips "that kinda hit just doesn't hurt women. We don't have anything hanging down there like men. Try again if you are unsure."

The shaman buried her face in her hands. Wanting to say something, but Morn dug her own grave here. The hunter knew that Morn was overconfident in the past. Perhaps he missed and hit her leg. Either way she was presenting an opportunity to strike her again. Morn spread her legs some and crossed her arms. "Whenever you're ready." She said smugly.

Duma was getting very annoyed by the smaller orcs overconfidence and took her up on her challenge. Even if she didn't have balls a kick still hurts. He mustered all of his might and kicked forward again. The top of his foot collided with Morns unprotected pussy with enough force to cause a loud slapping noise. She was once again lifted off her feet, even higher this time. Her juicy parts jiggled around again but she kept her arms crossed.

Not willing to accept this failure the red painted orc grabbed the female by the shoulders and drove his hard knee into her bare crotch. Morn felt that force was being applied to her pussy but she didn't feel any of the pain that went with it. She felt immensely powerful seeing how he can't do her any harm. She breifly wondered if this is how great warriors feel.

Duma kept his grip and drove his knee upward agian and agian, each hit finding its mark but not causing the damage it should. After several more hits he was getting out of breath. He looked down and saw that his opponent wasn't even bruised.

"My turn" Morn said.

Dumas crotch exploded in pain as Morn returned the favor, hitting the hard bone of her knee into the males already sore balls. She didn't have to aim much as she felt his stones on either side of her knee as she hit upward. The male orc instantly let go of his opponent and fell to his back, curling up in a ball.

Morn casually strode around her downed opponent. She took in the sight of someone who bested her before now laying at her feet. However he wasnt fully defeated. She squatted down beside her foe and reached down between his legs. She was able to worm her fingers underneath his and grabbed hold of one of his balls. It was warm to the touch and she could even feel his heartbeat.

"You can feel free to give up now. Or I can squeeze your balls until you pass out, kinda like what you did to me."

She didn't wait for him to respond before she bore down on his tortured organ. Compressing one of his balls in her hand she heard him yelling in pain. The shaman was about to call the fight when she saw that Duma was still fighting. He moved his hands to the womans crotch and squeezed her clit with all the orc strength he could muster. He pinched at the small sensitive female spot with all the power he had left. It was not a fair contest at all, with Morn toying with the man and Duma desperately trying to cause any pain to make her let go. When Morn yanked his ball way from his body the man let go and tried to protect his manhood. Morn laughed and finally let go.

She stood triumphantly over the man. "I think you can see now that it dosnt hurt because I don't have any ba-"

But she stopped dead. She went completely silent for a moment. Duma looked up confused and saw her eyes shrink to pin points and she became sweaty all over. Her eyes watered and she let out an ear piercing shriek. She feel over and began flailing around, both hand clinging to her crotch for dear life. She howled in pain, her face a mess of tears. Duma sat up, still holding himself, with a confused look on his face.

Morn continued to cry out and rolling on the floor. She was heedless to anything other than her overwhelming pain. She felt her crotch had swelled up and was throbbing with agony. Eventually she stopped yelling and just lay curled in a ball in the dirt. The shaman hopped into the pit and politely told Duma that he had won, Morn could no longer battle. Still deeply confused but mostly sore he departed, hoping to find something cold to sooth his pain.

The shaman sat next to the pained would be warrior and rubbed her shoulder. "That is the reason that potion hasn't been used in many years. Warriors got overconfident when they feel invincible. But the pain and injury always catch up eventually. Many died from shock. You're tough you will live."

Morn eventually was able to turn her dirty and tear soaked face to the shaman. She attempted to speak but no words came out.

"You can rest here as you need. There are not any other fights today. I'll stay with you until you can walk. I told you to try to win quickly."