“In jealousy The Dark God took the land and twisted it, and its people, making wounds in the face of Jor-Karroc, tainting the elves and bringing forth the first Orcs, and the times grew dark.” - Lace of Ages, by Sindin Mortok

“And Maldred, in affront took himself hence to the fields of Adanor and gazed upon the peoples there, and he wrought his power upon them and took them from the field to his dwelling below the earth. There he bent his sick design upon them and reworked the arts of his Dark master, thinking them his own. And he made Orcs, Trolls and Wolf Weres. And upon the world he visited these things, and the peoples wailed and gnashed their teeth, for it seemed to them that the Darkness had come, and they cursed his name.” - Fingers of Darkness, Unknown Author.

To the west of the northern part of Noremere, which in days to come would be known as Mereland, lies a span of earth and stone that serves as a bridge. This passage takes one from the gentle slopes of Matchland and descends into a desolate wasteland, a domain shunned by most. Within this realm of temperate clime, hot pools bubble and sulphurous gases billow, rendering the land arid and scorching. The forest life that clings to this forsaken place struggles ceaselessly for survival, much like all creatures amidst those twisted and maleficent environs. Men, naming it the Orc lands, shudder at this land of ill repute; however, to those resilient souls who call it their abode, it is but their humble home.
The Orc Lands, harsh and dire, forge their occupants into beings of vigor and fortitude - it is either strength or death that befalls the Orcs. From tender age, Orc children are cast into specialized encampments, known as Krahags, wherein they are instructed in the ways of existence. Upon emerging from these crucibles of learning, they are bestowed with a name and the solemn duty to earn status and procure the treasures that stir their hearts, thus bestowing them unto their own people. These cherished relics of their endeavors are spoken of as 'Shug.'

In the dark depths of one of the shadowed Krahags, nestled amidst the looming darkness and unseen horrors, there unfolds the tale of Jorrak, a hapless creature burdened by the weight of his existence. With a back bent and twisted, a visage marred by the coiled mark of a wyrm, his fate seemed sealed—a destined demise awaited him. It was the way of the world, after all.
The other Orc children, ever keen on detecting weakness within their ranks, spied upon Jorrak and struck mercilessly. Their blow proved fatal, sating the insatiable hunger of the cruel rites of their kin. Yet, lo and behold, Stump, as they had contemptuously referred to him, did not succumb to the final embrace of death's clutches. No, instead, he rose again, defying the very laws that governed the natural order. Fear gripped the hearts of his assailants, for they saw in him a formidable power, an unnatural magic that they dubbed Ju-Ju in their primitive tongues.
It was this uncanny ability, this unearthly force that surged through his veins, which spared Jorrak from the customary ritualistic demise reserved for those deemed feeble and frail. Instead, he was entrusted into the care of his father's other son, Kurg'an, a guardian bound by blood and duty. Thus, Jorrak was presented before the ancient and revered Shamans of his klant, whose whispered secrets reached their ears alone. It was in their wisdom that the name Jorrak was bestowed upon him, for they alone held the knowledge of its significance.

Under the shadow of Jormundgand, Stump served faithfully amongst the ranks of the Jurgah Arg. Among these Orcs, small and hunched, he was deemed worthy to fulfill the role of a scout, for it seemed that he possessed an uncanny ability - the ability to withstand death's cold grasp.
Yet Stump, unlike his brethren, did not relish the grand chaos of war. Instead, he found solace in seclusion, far from the clamor of his people. In this austere self-exile, a sense of relief washed over him, for deep within his heart, a gentleness unlike that of any Orc thrived. He yearned for a world free from the savagery he witnessed and participated in.
In the solitary realm he now found himself, Stump stumbled upon a wondrous discovery - a realm of vibrant life, untouched by the ravages of Orcish hands. He reveled in the presence of delicate flowers and curious creatures that crossed his path. Unlike his kin, he did not seek to destroy and kill, but instead, he marveled at the beauty that surrounded him.
One fateful day, as Stump pursued his duty as a scout, he chanced upon a sight that stirred within him an unfulfilled yearning. Human beings, with their mortal forms, revealed a kind of beauty that he had never seen among his own kind. Their disposition, as gentle guardians of their surroundings, struck a chord deep within his being. Oh, how he longed to walk amongst them, to forsake the destructive ways of the Orcs and embrace their harmonious existence.
Amidst his observations, the gaze of Stump also fell upon the fair folk of Elvenkind. However, unlike many who laid their eyes upon the Elves, Stump did not regard them with awe and reverence. His being held tight to the teachings he had received, shrouding the noble elves in a cloud of suspicion and trepidation. The seed of doubt had taken root within him, tainting his perspective of these ethereal beings, despite their grace and prowess.
Thus, Stump's days as a solitary scout remained a stark contrast to the ways of his people. His heart yearned for a world where destruction was reserved solely for necessity, far removed from the reckless carnage that had become the custom of the Orcs. The clash of his desires within his soul forged an internal struggle, one that would continue to shape his destiny amidst the vast tapestry of the land under the shadow of Jormundgand.

In that fateful hour, when Kurrg'an's ferocious legions of Orcs marched ceaselessly towards the distant southern lands, Stump found himself transfixed by a sight that compelled him to silence and admiration. Amidst the hustle and bustle of men, a group stood out like ethereal beacons, shining with an inner light that captured Stump's heart.
Among them, a small woman emanated a readiness and threat that surpassed all others in Stump's eyes. Her piercing gaze, the color of sunflowers' petals, scanned her surroundings with unwavering vigilance. Stump struggled to conceal himself, feeling the weight of her watchful eyes upon him. How could one so diminutive possess such commanding authority?
While his attention was enraptured by the extraordinary woman, Stump's gaze wandered towards a young boy who, in his innocent countenance, held the enigmas of the very universe. The lad busied himself gathering a variety of humble elements - herbs, stones, and sand - as he diligently practiced the ways of the sword and invoked the arcane arts of Ju-Ju. In this observing moment, Stump perceived the boy as a vessel of boundless potential, embodying the essence of all things imaginable.
Yet, amid this remarkable company, two majestic figures towered in peerless stature and unsurpassable beauty. A woman, cascading waves of darkness adorning her flowing locks, embodied a reservoir of unyielding strength. Beside her, a man of luminous hair adorned a resplendent suit of gleaming armor, emanating an aura of righteousness and unwavering justice. Stump, judging solely by appearance, believed him to be the embodiment of pure goodness.
The reverence and awe that welled up within Stump surpassed his understanding. How could these individuals possess such uncommon qualities that set them apart from the ordinary world? Their presence in that moment of peril cast them as radiant figures amidst the shadows of despair, kindling a flicker of hope within Stump's beleaguered heart. If these mortals, who towered in wisdom and prowess above their kin, could unlock such potent secrets within themselves, then perchance they could impart their ancient knowledge upon him. In the depths of his imagination, they stood as beacons of superiority, transcending the common lot of men. If such a transcendence was attainable, then he, a lowly Orc, might be raised above his vile brethren, and perchance even ascend to the lofty realm of humanity.
Thus, without hesitation, he unveiled himself before these ethereal beings, casting his form prostrate upon the earth, beseeching fervently for admission into their elite circle. Trembling with anticipation and awe, he uttered his plea, seeking refuge within their hallowed ranks to partake of their graces and better himself.
And lo, the tallest of Women, cloaked in an aura of grace and strength, knelt beside him, extending a hand to lift him from his prone state. As he glanced upward, his gaze met a canopy of night intertwined within her flowing hair, adorned by innumerable sparkling stars. The sun, shimmering in its radiant brilliance, kissed her skin, illuminating her regal countenance. In a voice as soothing as the wind in the elven woods, she granted him permission to join their destined pilgrimage. “Lift thyself from the dirt, and stand upon thine own feet.”
Yet, as opportunities unveiled themselves, caution lingered in the temperance of the tallest of the Men. Aware of the Orcs' tainted reputation, forever scarred by betrayal and treachery, he warned the supplicant of their watchful gaze. Stump, the lowly Orc, acknowledged the grain of truth embedded within these words, conceding the undeniable veracity of the Men's concerns.
He revealed unto them the movements of the Orc bands in the area, and aided them in putting paid to their misdeeds, and north did he travel with them. And he saw things that gave him pause, and fear seized hold of him often, and he would run and cower from the things these men wrought, but always they conquered their foes and came looking for him.

Cloaked in mystery and donned in a hood, he veiled his true nature with the intention of avoiding unwarranted panic. Orcs, creatures of dread and malice, were feared across the lands, and for a good reason. Stump, once a raider, sought now to set foot upon the soil of Mereland as a guest, no longer an ominous threat.
Yet, Mereland faced a dire plight, a land plagued under the rule of King Steven, who bore a wretched curse that seeped into the very fabric of his actions, turning them to ill. The people, weary and burdened, found themselves entangled in the throes of war. Duke Alex Winter, the valiant guardian of the eastern watch, harbored a noble aspiration to dethrone the accursed king, thus aiming to alleviate the endless suffering endured by the land and its people.
Amidst this tumultuous struggle, a glimmer of hope was ignited. With the return of his son, the rightful heir, King Steven, burdened by the weight of his own grievous deeds, sought redemption in the silent embrace of the grave. It was his belief that by doing so, the curse which plagued him might be severed, thus granting his son the opportunity to reign with virtue and righteousness.
And so, as the flames of war continued to rage, Stump, enticed by the curiosity that had become his defining trait, ventured near a stash of casks stacked in the palace. Unbeknownst to him, these casks harbored the remnants of magical fire, carefully curated by the learned hands of wizards. Alas, his innocent meddling unleashed this arcane inferno upon the world.

But lo and behold, amidst the turmoil that had befallen the land, a glimmer of peace did emerge. And as a reward for their valiant deeds, the brave companions were each granted a token of gratitude. Stump, whilst venturing through the mystical realm of Mereland, was bestowed a mighty Axe, a relic that would later unveil itself as the vessel of the spirit of a revered Dwarven paragon, Harpacx.
Meanwhile, the Rat Paladin and his stalwart party, with Stump now in their midst, set forth towards the fabled white tower of magic, Tal Valen. Alas, destiny had other plans. A tempest of epic proportions materialized, driving their vessel upon the treacherous shores of the concealed land, Voldaryn. A realm forbidden to all who sought it willingly, ruled with an iron grip by the malevolent baron known as Aldforth, a sinister figure who wielded magic with an ominous cane.
Ensnared within the clutches of this foreboding land, our heroes were coerced into becoming pawns within the Baron's twisted game. Secretly, a glimmer of intrigue stirred within Stump's heart, though fear permeated his thoughts, for he dared to dream that victory might lead to his transformation from an Orc into a human. Thus, in this realm of trials, Stump battled relentlessly, often falling to the depths of despair, only to be rescued time and again by the holy arts of his companion, Cephiro.
Amidst their arduous journey, they encountered familiar faces, whom fortune had intertwined with their paths once before. Together, they embarked upon a quest for justice, traversing treacherous landscapes, as Stump seized the opportunity to broaden his knowledge and grow emboldened along the way, all the while tending to the egg of a slain majestic bird, or so he thought. It was within these lands that Stump encountered Gryll, a cyclops of great wisdom and druidic prowess. Imparted with a crucial quest by the esteemed leader of the Grove, Lady Clearwater, a graceful elven maiden whom Stump esteemed as a paragon of virtue, our valiant hero ventured forth, guided by destiny's hand.

Also did he meet a half orc female, who introduced herself a Creature Thing, and was cruel and demanding of him especially, to the dismay of his friends, who did not understand Orcish ways.

Under the hasty tutelage of Gryll remarkable and unforeseen was the transformation that befell him. A metamorphosis of heart and mind took shape, as he grew cognizant of the intricacy and splendor of nature, surpassing any previous understanding he possessed. Verily, an ardor increased within him, burning bright with a love unyielding for the very essence of the wild.
Moreover, as the days unsparingly passed, he ventured forth and encountered a towering behemoth known as the cyclops, a creature of majestic proportions that inspired awe within Gryll's soul. The cyclops, with his humorous disposition, forged an unlikely bond with the intrepid adventurer. Yet amidst the camaraderie, a sorrowful lamentation flowed forth, for Stump knew his dear companion was destined for a timely demise ere their paths diverged.
But alas, the journey of Stump transcended beyond mere companionship and tales of wonder, for he laid eyes upon Calvaria, the visage of decay itself, with a countenance akin to the hollowed skull. The enigmatic entity revealed to Stump that it was indeed the same abominable being that Credence, also known as Clearwater, had warned him of. Calvaria, in his sinister machinations, labored diligently towards the realization of a nefarious plan, one that sought to extinguish all life upon the sacred land of Jor-Karroc, a realm steeped in enchantment and beauty.
Indomitable and undeterred, Stump found himself standing alone, ready to confront the wicked Lord of Decay. Bereft of assistance and solidarity, he valiantly embarked upon a perilous clash, matching his strength and will against the formidable might of Calvaria. In his boundless tenacity, Stump detrimentally thwarted the Lord's malevolent designs, albeit at a great cost. The spoils of victory were hard-earned, stained with his own excruciating suffering.
Thus, Stump emerged triumphant, even though the grand scheme of Calvaria was not completely vanquished, and the Lord of Decay himself remained an insidious presence. The acclamation of conquest was tainted with the bitter flavor of anguish, a testament to the fortitude and sacrifice that Stump had endured in his pursuit of justice against a tyrannical force. Also he got half a sword.