Hey, hey, thank you all so much for tuning in to this remaster
episode of The Bar and the Bewa. You already know we got stories
that linger like shadows on old roads.
But first, real quick, check out this trailer from another
powerful fiction podcast by Project Zion Theater.
Thanks again for listening. And now enjoy the show.
In the rift, even the mountains remember.
Whispers cling to the wind, shadows follow the living, and
peace. Peace don't come cheap.
Every journey starts with a step.
Mine usually ends with a fight. Danny Rose walks a path few
survive, Once a protector, now a man chasing salvation for his
master, for his family, for a world that don't know how close
it is to the edge. From the people who braved the
cold, Dark World of our Cave Story, then ventured into a
Japan on the cusp of new beginnings.
With Ryoma's Beacon comes a new tale of sacrifice, redemption,
love, and found family charm. Project Zion Theatre and Remix
Media Entertainment presents way of the jaded fist.
Worn path through the rift. Fist clenched, not in rage, but
hope. Tea cools, shadows stir.
What are you willing to do for your friends?
Project Zion. Theater.
Project Zion Theater presents the Bard and the Bewa.
Today's episode, The Pilgrim's Warning.
In the age when shadows danced with spirits and whispers
carried the weight of fate, a lone merchant, her heart heavy
with both hope and trepidation, traversed the winding paths of
the realm. This was a time when the land
itself breathed with ancient magic, and travelers knew that
fortune or misfortune could lie just around the bend.
The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in
hues of fiery orange and deep indigo, casting long shadows
that stretched like grasping fingers across the lonely road.
And as the first drops of a storm began to fall, a tale of
darkness began to unfold. Look there, a village ahead.
May the commie be merciful. The wind whispers warnings.
Foolish to heed such fancies. Traveler.
A word if you don't mind.
Of course, what is it? These paths, they hunger.
Many walk them, few return. The wind, it carries whispers.
You must heed them. Traveller hunger.
A turn of phrase, surely. These villagers and their tails.
Thank you, Sir. Good day.
I must find shelter from this storm.
The whispers, we must heed them. All of us.
We must heed the whispers. What a strange man.
Strange indeed. Look there, a temple.
Oh, what good fortune. Truly a haven.
The Bard and the Bewa. It appears to be abandoned, by
the way, but I need to seek shelter from this storm.
Welcome, Traveler. Oh goodness.
The storm embraces us. Indeed it does.
Enter and find respite from its fury.
Come follow me. Thank you, good Sir.
Yes, the road is a harsh mistress and many lose their way
and more than just their path. The Pilgrim I met, he spoke of
disappearances. Did he now?
Whispers of fearful villagers, their anxieties take flight on
the wind. They see shadows where there are
none. Thank you very much.
I myself have been praying for those who have lost their way,
prayers for peace for those who have found a different kind of
peace. I wonder what he means by those
who have lost their way. And that that smell, it's almost
metallic. Well then, traveler, I take my
leave. You may sleep there on that mat.
I will prepare us breakfast in the morning.
Very well then, friend. Monk, thank you so much for your
continued hospitality. Good evening.
As the storm raged outside, a disquieting stillness settled
within the temple walls. The traveler, her dreams plagued
by shadows and whispers, felt a chill that seat deeper than the
dampness of her clothes. The monks chanting no longer.
A distant hum pulsed through the temple like a heartbeat, each
syllable a drop of dread in the silence.
What's? What's going on?
Driven by a curiosity that warred with her growing fear,
the traveller crept from her sleeping mat.
The chanting LED her through the temple's winding corridors, past
flickering lanterns that cast dancing shadows on the walls.
The air grew heavy with the cloying scent of incense,
mingled with something else, something ancient and
unsettling. What is this place?
What is what is he strange monk? I'll just peer through this
crack and the door the. Chanting Strange.
Monk. It's coming from him.
What could? Be the.
Things that he's saying and that body he's chanting over.
The sight that met her eyes was a vision of a nightmare.
The Monk, his face contorted in a grotesque parity of serenity,
possessed jaws that stretched impossibly wide, engulfing A
decaying corpse in a single, horrifying goal.
That chanting reached a fever pitch, a celebration of the
macabre feast. The monk, alerted to her
presence, turned, his eyes, no longer calm in welcoming, burned
with a predatory hunger. The Traveller, her blood running
cold, knew she had to escape. You have to get out of here you.
Shall be my next sacrifice. No, please.
Hunger, oh how I crave your flesh.
Just amazing. The song.
For friend monkeys can bewitched.
I must take flight. Error lent her wings.
She burst from the temple, fleeing into the storms and
grace the monks in human roar actually behind her.
The rain lashed at her face, the wind screamed in her ears, but
she dared not to look back. She ran, driven by the primal
instinct to survive the image of the monk's grotesque beast
searing into her mind. I'll never forget, never.
I'll never forget these paths, how they hunger.
I can feel the souls of the dead.
Many did walk them indeed. And this wind, the tails of
tails, the whispers of carries, we all must hate them.
Today's episode of The Bard and the Bewa stars Rachel Abbott and
Raymond Getty. Today's episode was called The
Pilgrim's Warning. If you enjoyed the show, please
give us a like and a comment. Were found everywhere where
podcasts are found and we'll see you next time on the bar and the
Biwa.