Crimson Tree | Crimson Grove Abbey

LORE & BACKGROUND

The Crimson Tree is a thing of contorted wyrd, its gnarled trunk twisting at unnatural angles, seeming to defy the sun’s passage. Its bark is thick and cracked, split like aged flesh, exuding a faint, cloying scent of decay masked beneath a sickly sweetness. No leaves mar its skeletal form, only the heavy, glistening weight of the Crimson Fruit, hanging in obscene abundance.

The congregation reveres these trees, draping them in ropes, trinkets, and small bells as offerings of gratitude. Within the silent orchards, one might hear the faint chime of unseen movement, the soft clatter of bells swaying without wind.

Worse still, there are times when the Crimson Trees take root beyond the bounds of the Abbey’s liminal space. These stray growths, found in forgotten corners of the Empire, always herald calamity, drawing the desperate and the lost into their shadow. Wherever the fruit spreads, so too does its faith, winding through the cracks of suffering like roots through softened earth.

Crimson Tree | Crimson Grove Abbey

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