Name: The Forest Monk
Gender: Agender, they/him pronouns.
Age: Since the dawn of The Endless Forest.
Species: Endless Forest Deer.
Voice: "#53402b"

Endless Forest Sets: SUMMER, AUTUMN, WINTER, SPRING.

The Forest Monk does not have a true name. His name is old, forgotten and unwanted. Being a creature of peace, neutrality, wisdom and stoic, like many of his brethren, he chose to not have a name. Since the first sprout of grass existed within the Endless Forest, he was there. Of course, The Forest Monk did not always look like this.

The Forest Monk holds no grudges or ill feelings. He is a gentle, placid creature who is often found wandering the forest, tending to plants or watching over others. He finds solace in the peaceful company of others and the energy of the forest. The Forest Monk loves to walk old roads, old routes taken by his kind long ago. Perhaps you wish to follow him? You might learn a thing or to about your heritage.

On a lone, distant hill you might sight the old stag. Do not let his antlers or stern mask frighten you- come children, come sit beside the old creature. Perhaps he will tell you an old tale of the day The monks began building the cathedral or the bridge? Maybe he will sing ancient songs that made the trees grow. History is the very fabric of his existence, and thrives when sharing it with others.

You often wonder why his looks are ephemeral. Why in summer he grows a copper hued pelt and seems rather energetic. Why in Autumn his pelt subdues and his antlers sprout all kinds of autumnal foliage. Why in winter his antlers ice over and he looses all colour. Why does he seem so sad? Of course, when spring graces the forest his pelt sprouts verdant hues and stunning foliage graces his antlers.

In his presence you begin to feel very young - on his back an entire history has turned.

Perhaps you think it best to ask him. He is a fountain of knowledge, kindness and wisdom. Eternal.

There are no grand tales of struggle, epic battles of good vs. evil or mysterious shrouded pasts within the monks history. Whilst this sentient is very old, his life has been incredibly placid. Long before a stag or fawn would tread on these grounds, there were few. Those of the monks. The forest herself and the Twin Gods. Every Monk within the forest chose to not harbour a name, as they felt names were a source of difference, and would escalate into pride and separation. Whilst the Gods gave them options to have names, they were quite happy in being their own unit. They did not function as individuals; They were a family.

Of all the monks, each did have occupations and roles. When the forest was in its first stages of growth, monks would sing to the trees and foliage, coaxing them to grow. Some of these songs were deep and uplifting; strong like the boughs of a tree. Other songs were quiet, gentle and vibrant; coaxing smaller plants to spring forth. The forest was shrouded in a mystical and wonderful chorus.

Once the Forest had grown, the monks agreed to build a cathedral. Others would go on to build a bridge. Each monk went on to develop the forest. But for our one monk in particular would take the initiative to tend to plants. Of all the monks, none showed a greater passion than he, and went on to cultivate poppies, blueberries and goldenrod. One particular spot our monk enjoyed was outside the Cathedral, where he would meet with one of the priest-monks and muse many things.

When the Forest finally developed, the Twin gods would call all to their idols. They would appear as the gold and the red. They offered a reward for the Monks service; to walk with them. All of the monks would agree, and they faded from the Forest. This is where our Monk made his choice to stay. In his service, he came to love the forest and what it had become. For showing his initiative, the Gods would carve him in their image. He no longer walked on two, he walked on four.

The Monk would walk the forest for the rest of its days. Although the Forest Monk no longer had all his friends beside him, he would have the forest. He has watched it grow, witnessed the births and deaths of many. He is at peace with the world.

Many come and others go, but The Forest monk always remains. He does not exclude or hold grudges. He has no desire to fight or quarrel, and is happy to tend to his gods magnificent, endless garden.

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The Forest Monks story is loosely based on Tale of Tales small shreds of stories about The Endless Forest and the Monks that used to inhabit it.


"Where are the people who built and used this bridge? Did it serve the monks when they went to mass in the cathedral? When did the humans disappear? Or did they not?"

From this I developed my own version of the monks story. Human Monks would inhabit the forest long before the deer did. They would come to build the bridge and the cathedral, and would sleep within the old oak. The deep chorus of the oak is the Monks chorus that they would sing on leaving and arriving at the oak. Once the endless forest had grown to the size you now see, The human monks had a choice to walk with their makers; the twin gods, or remain behind.

Those that remained behind became deer.

Spring has left us once again, and the forest has begun to become awfully hot. The odd summer shower graces the forest and many of the deer have begun to shed velvet on their antlers in time for the rut. You sight The Forest Monk. Where did his foliage go? He looks awfully muscular and vibrant in his rusty red coat. He seems to be rather lively and active and does not hesitate to start a few spars. But his heart is in the right place, and only wishes to test his strength. No malice within such acts.

Can you hear that?
It's an earthly, pleasant crunching sound. All of a sudden, things seem a little bright, yet still generating a rather cold atmosphere. The trees have dropped their leaves, and things seem to be somewhat calmer, apart from the rutting stags. Our Forest Monk seems to have dulled in colour, and some rather subtle, orange and red foliage has started to grow on his antlers. He seems less active, rather neutral, with some hints of melancholy. You see him sitting on a lone hill. Winter is not far behind.

Winters bitter kisses have plagued the forest. Foul, icy tongues lick the forest of its lifeblood.

Things seem bitter and cold. The Forest Monks once vibrant foliage has died off and icicles had formed. His pelt seems to have lost all colour too. You do not see him as often as you would expect. Our Monk is too busy sleeping in the warmth of the oak, and not moving a great deal. He seems upset for some reason? His flowers and plants are no longer blooming.

drip drip drip
Did you hear that? The sound of melting snow. A layer of fresh clean water and sunlight coaxing the forest into a wonderful explosion of light and colour. The forest is born again. Flowers have returned to their full potential, and our Monks antlers have taken full form. His pelt seems to be at its brightest. Are those small ferns and moss growing on him? It certainly looks like it. He seems so vibrant.

A cheerful nod and play about, whilst still managing to contain his ancient dignified self.