Korr is a parasitic living forest that feeds upon the blood of creatures within its bounds, taking life so gradually that many travellers do not recognise the danger until they can no longer leave.
The first drop is never felt. By the time the forest is satisfied, neither is the last.
Nature of the Blood Root
Korr is counted among the Celestial Fragments: lesser and parasitic divinities born from the scattered remains of Earin, the First Light. It is not merely a god that inhabits a woodland. The forest itself is Korr—every thorn, root and red-veined leaf part of one vast, patient organism.
Its borders expand almost imperceptibly. Young trees take root beyond the old canopy, brambles close abandoned tracks and the deep root-mass follows beneath. Settlements near Korr sometimes discover that a familiar boundary stone has vanished into new growth over a single season.
The slow draining
Creatures passing beneath Korr's canopy are drained slowly, drop by drop. The forest draws through scratches too small to notice, hooked grasses, thorns and roots pressed against sleeping skin. There is rarely a single wound that reveals what is happening.
A traveller first feels tired, then cold and unsteady. Rest seems sensible, and this is the forest's cruellest instinct: those who sit or lie down bring themselves within reach of the finest feeding roots. They lose consciousness, weaken beyond recovery and are eventually emptied completely.
The forest floor preserves the record of this feeding. Moss-covered packs, rusted weapons and pale bones lie among the ferns. Some skeletons are almost entirely hidden beneath roots that have grown through and around them, feeding new groves from those who never found the road out.
The Cult of the Outer Root
A cult lives along the forest's outermost margins and worships Korr as a power that exchanges blood for favour. Its members make measured offerings—drops from a cut palm, bowls gathered from willing devotees, and, in the most severe rites, the whole self.
The cult claims that Korr grants endurance, influence, visions and unnatural vitality in return. Whether these gifts are divine blessings or the forest directing its worshippers to secure more prey is disputed by those few scholars who have studied it.
The faithful build no settlement beneath the true canopy. Their huts, shrines and blood-stones stand just close enough to feel Korr's pull, but far enough away that a healthy adult can recover between rites. Senior devotees learn the signs of dangerous weakness and withdraw before devotion becomes involuntary sacrifice.
Sacrifice and abduction
Not every offering is willing. Cult raiders have kidnapped travellers and bound them to the forest floor beyond the last safe shrine, leaving wrists and ankles exposed to the rootlets. Such victims may remain conscious for hours while the canopy grows quiet around them.
Whole-self offerings occupy an honoured and feared place in the cult's doctrine. A devotee walks alone into the interior and lies among the roots, believing their life will pass directly into Korr and return as power to the community. The remains are never recovered.
Signs and survival
The strongest warning is unexplained fatigue shared by several members of a travelling party. Other signs include red sap beneath pale bark, rootlets angled towards bedrolls, paths that narrow behind the traveller and old bones arranged by growth rather than by human hands.
Those who suspect Korr must leave immediately and resist the urge to rest beneath the canopy. Fire can clear a short escape route, but the deeper forest is wet, watchful and difficult to burn. Followers of the Gods of Earin disagree on whether Korr can ever be killed without destroying every connected root.
Notes and record
This article combines campaign record, spoken lore and the mythic account preserved in the Earin archive.