The Sporebound Thralls are the first stage of the Bloodthorne’s corruption, freshly claimed humans whose bodies still bear the echo of who they once were. Their eyes are glazed, their movements jerky and uncertain, guided not by thought but by the will of the forest’s dark consciousness. Vines coil through their flesh, roots pulse beneath their skin, and faint motes of sporelight drift from every wound.
 
Individually weak and mindless, the Thralls advance in staggering waves, heedless of pain or fear. They claw and bite with desperate strength, their lives meaningless beyond serving as vessels for the Bloodthorne’s will. Where they fall, new growth takes hold, and from their remains the forest spreads, patient, unending, and hungry.