Dawn of the Monk

In the second week of every month, early in the morning there is a great gathering between both young and old. On this uncommon occasion people presumed to be monks, travel to the Noitaiva village. They gather in a strange pit that appears to double as a public execution arena, yet nobody dies.

The monks arrive around the same time as the young, but they are less enthusiastic about the event. We presume that this is because they know what is in store for them…an indefatigable younger with a passion for awkward banter.

Before the procession begins everybody walks through a hallway to pick up food and drinks to awkwardly eat while having a conversation. One of the most common things, a dark, bitter drink, is gathered by even those who choose not to eat.

The fourth caste drinks coffee because it has become part of their diet, as researched by Biologist Hannah Baker, but the first caste seems to drink it to fit in. Many of them “drink it black” in order to establish a false sense of toughness. It’s probably because many of the females drink creamy coffee and the males want to show their masculinity, and drinking something is literally the only way they are able to do that.

For two straight hours, the senile monks appear to put up with the conversation for reasons we know not about. It was first thought that the gathering was held in an execution arena, and because we were sure that the monks would kill the young, the event was dubbed “The Monthly Monk Massacre.”

It was figured that the monks would do this to relieve stress. But alas, further research disproved this theory. Instead, the ritual involves conversation and the attempt of the older to teach, not kill them.

Those involved in the procession gather around tables, which archaeologists found decorated with various flowers and tokens of good bidding. Each table measured to be the same dimensions in radius and height, and further research found that they were even spaced in a specific pattern.

At first we believed that this table pattern may have been aligned with the stars in order to fulfill a religious ritual, however, no evidence of supernatural worship was sighted. We saw a monk down on one knee moving his hands around in an almost frantic manner holding what may have been voodoo strings attached to his shoe.

This practice unarguably showcases the frustration of the monks with their younger counterparts. It is possible that they manipulate these strings for voodoo because they hope the younger are wrenched in horribly uncomfortable pretzel positions. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work.

No evidence of participation of the facsimile gods was observed at these possibly religious congregations, so we were forced to delve deeper into research to find the meaning of these gatherings.

After another month or so of research our scientists found that this gathering was not one to worship gods, but rather a gathering to corroborate a relationship between the monks and tribesmen. Our biologists have deduced this to be a parasitic symbiosis between the monks and tribesman.

The symbiosis is supposed to last the better part of 3 years, starting when the tribesmen enter the 2nd caste, and ending when they move on from their village. However, this is not always the case.

Many times the tribesman or monk voluntarily resigns from their role in the relationship. Either the parasite no longer needs his host, or the host realizes that the parasite actually doesn’t do anything to enhance his life.

Either way, the results are odious. The parasite is left without someone to look up to and without the tender care of a monk there is a low chance of survival for the now abandoned tribesman.

It is a vicious circle of life in which the Noitaiva tribe dwells, and many times the tribesmen are unsure of their future. The parasitic symbiosis is just one example of the hardships that these tribesmen go through on a daily basis. Without the ability to worship their three gods or even just gaze upon their winged flying machines the very members of the tribe may not survive very long.

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