Just outside Harbour Town by the docks at Breakers Bay.
Nice cart you got here old man. Shame if it tipped over before
the festival leaves. There are.
Barely enough cabbages to sell as it is I you.
Better pay up. Unless you want tonight's.
Stew to be. Dirt Soup.
Yes. Funny the I thought cabbages
grew best in soil, not pockets. Hey brat, this is business.
Wow. Now waddle off.
Little duck. And mind your own.
Oh, that's grand. I can tell you've been brushing
up on your whole tough guy routine is.
She serious? A bit stale, but it probably
still works from time to time. Damn it Tonk, this little brat
is mocking us, boss. Quiet when?
You don't think I already know that?
As for you. Little hero.
Oh. Smug, but so.
Small just who? In the hell.
Are you supposed to be anyway? Oh me, I've got.
A little. The.
Mountains may tremble, yet my soul leans on the 1.
He steadies the earth. You're listening to Way of the
Jaded Fist, and today's episode settles in with tradition and
the changing seasons. TuneIn to see what this fall has
in store for our friends at the Jade Lantern Inn.
I'm Raymond Getty, your show announcer.
Thanks for listening and enjoy the show.
More seasonal fun with our heroes in a moment, but first I
wanted to talk about some of our other friends again.
Ladies and gentlemen. For five nights.
Only in fabulous Las Vegas. Welcome to the.
Haunted Masquerade. The Haunted Masquerade TuneIn
for one of the most interactive forms of media out there.
It's an audio drama with mini games, lore hunts, and of
course, packs full of your favorite animatronic pals.
Head on over to YouTube and search Five Nights at Freddy's
The Haunted Masquerade. Where glitches and magic will.
Amaze you? Just.
Make. Sure you're sitting if you
record. The Way of the Jaded Fist.
Thank you, Captain. No thanks necessary, Sir.
If you hadn't stepped in, well, those ruffians would have taken
everything. I did what any decent person
would have. I wouldn't be so sure.
The heart of the Rift runs colder these days, I'm afraid.
Say it ain't so Harbour Town. Sheesh.
Harbour Town needs more like you.
Like me? Yep.
More heroes like Danny Rose. Folks still tell stories about
him, you know. You ought to keep making a name
for yourself, Miss Marta. Appreciate it Sir, though I'm
not much for names, only for the work.
I see a respectful take. Very well, then, I shall be on
my way. You have my thanks, Captain.
Thank you. Farewell and thanks for the free
cabbage. Names are weighty things.
To carry them is to invite expectation.
To lay them down is to walk lighter.
You think Rose likes being held up as the town's gold standard?
Danny Rose. He would not care one way or the
other so long as you bought him a drink.
Good. Point master.
Autumn in Harbour Town was a season of small rituals,
lanterns strung between Timbers, fish smoked over cedar and carts
piled high with yams and squashes.
The fall festival was less about grandeur and more about memory,
a reminder that even in the Rift, the year could still close
in warmth. Lantern lights spilled across
the streets, but it was at the Little Jade Cafe where the
festival truly breathed. Steam rose from kettles,
laughter pressed against the window panes, and the scent of
dumplings carried further than the fireworks ever could.
For one night, the ripped burden stayed outside those doors.
Inside, family and Wanderers gathered at worn wooden tables,
their voices weaving stories stronger than any war.
It was here, amid tea, mischief and the shuffle of tiles, that
the night began to shape itself, quietly reminding them all what
was worth defending. Too much sesame and it's ruined,
too little spice and it's bland. Cooking's about precision.
Precision. Tastes fine to me, just needs
more sugar. It needs.
More. Sugar.
You just ate half the sugar jar. Oops.
My Lanta. Don't look at me, blame the
sugar troll over here. Hey, be nice to me.
Yeah, no. Come on guys, customers expect
something edible, not a kitchen room.
She means you. A Sacco.
Anything else sweet to eat, you'll explode.
Really, a guy can dream. Hey.
Dre, it's a festival, not a cooking competition, OK?
Heard. I need you to come down 5 or 6
notches off the intensity scale, OK?
Heard. Can you do that for?
Me, my friend. Got it boss.
It's not a cooking war. I'll try and sheath my killer
instinct for now. Well, war makes food taste
better. I beg your pardon, Asako, Chad.
Probably. Love how certain she sounds of
that, jeez. If my mum saw this mess, she'd,
well, she'd laugh, Said cooking together was the best way to
fight without fighting. Guess that's family for you.
Yep. That's family.
Am I right? Oh.
Family. Asako, something wrong?
Hey, I was only joshing earlier, you know.
Yeah, you weren't really bothering me.
I know. I mean, you were, but not.
Really. Me, I just remembered I had
something I had to take care of. Can I leave early today please?
Oh. All.
Right, but only after you clean your half of this disaster.
Understood. May took notice of Asako's
sudden change in demeanor was something the matter thought
May. Asako wrapped up her duties,
said her goodbyes to May and Dre, and left her work there
early, something Asako has never done before.
The cast and crew of Way of the Jaded Fist would like to wish
you all a happy Thanksgiving. Eat and be merry.
Our heroes will be doing the same.
I did, however, want to bring another radio drama to your
attention, A serial so uniquely unnerving, a slow burn of
anxiety and confusion wrapped in quiet discord.
How It Ends centers around Micah, a woman who has struggled
through life ever since the passing of her father.
She decides starting a podcast would help her manage her
thoughts and feelings until some unanswered question about 1
fateful night continue to be unanswered.
What actually happened the night Micah's father passed away?
Tune into How It Ends today, available wherever you listen to
podcasts. Asako slipped away from the
cafe's warmth, sandals tapping a quieter rhythm.
The Lantern swayed above her, scattering gold and shadow.
Asako, You bet. Well, of course I am.
Why wouldn't I be silly? Took you long enough, you saved
your seat by the fire. Sorry for the wait I've
returned. Hello Jen.
Hello Sen You 2 been holding things together for me?
Where's Ruby? Well, she's resting a bit.
I think this change in weather's got her feeling more tired than
usual. She's up, though, not out.
Yeah. I see.
Love day for fishing. We tried as best we could, but
we only caught a couple of little ones.
OK. What?
You mean Sen caught a couple of little ones?
You sat around flapping your gums all day.
Come on, Sen. You know my banter carried the
day through several days. Through if you ask me, Sen.
Always so serious. What about you, big sister?
Did Dre fix you up something nice?
About that, I actually forgot to ask him too, but I did manage to
sneak out some goodies. Let's see some beef, cabbage and
rice. Cabbage and rice.
Looks like that's it guys. I did my best, sorry.
Sorry. This is great.
Thank you, Asako. Yeah.
And seriously, no need to apologize.
Yeah, you got a. Well, I.
Proteins and veggies. And hang on a moment, Jen.
Ruby's trying to speak. Oh.
Hey kiddo, sorry if my signing is a little off.
OK, go ahead Ruby. What's on your mind?
She's saying some fishermen visited the docks by the shack
today. One of them even took a peek
inside. What?
Oh my goodness. Ruby says she hid under the
covers for a good long while, but she did here then discussing
plans to tear down. This old shack.
Tear down something about wanting to build the new bait
shop here by the harbor. What?
Uh oh, that isn't. Good.
That's definitely not good. What am I going to do?
We won't survive on the street again.
Oh. Man, where are we going to live?
Whoa, whoa. Are we going to find a house?
Are we going to be go back to the street?
Calm down, Gin. We'll be fine, I think.
Night had folded over Harbour Town like an old quilt.
Inside the Little Jade Cafe, only one Lantern burned low gold
patient. Beside it sat Kai Loom, alone
with steam and silence. Here you are, Uncle Kai Maze
Elixir, right? Hope you're feeling better.
I'm in the kitchen shutting things down with Dre if you need
me, OK? I thank you, little Jade.
My pleasure, uncle. Always.
You brew as you live, child, with patience, warmth and a
touch of daring. Aw.
Thank you, Uncle, you're so nice.
Can I get you to pay me this compliment again in front of
Dre? I'm joking, sort of.
Remember, the cup is only empty when one forgets to pour into
others. Pouring into others, huh?
Yes. I shall meditate on that uncle,
but. Something else?
I want you to consider something OK of.
Course mailing. Aside from me and the others, is
there someone to pour into you, Uncle Kai Lung?
Well now I'll put things this way for you, little Jade.
There was someone many seasons ago when I still resided in
Denga, but the lake that remembers.
But again, that was many, many seasons past.
Oh really? Uncle did not know you were such
a heartbreaker. Oh.
Dear, how rude of me. I'm a sorry uncle I only.
Met. It's all right, I'm all right,
little one. The mind is a temple and mine is
full of restless prayers, it seems.
Of course, of course, uncle. I'll be in the kitchen if you
need me. OK?
Excuse me? Good evening and thank you,
little Jade. And so Kai Lung returned to his
introspection, his thoughts in his home, and of course, that
fateful day, the lake that remembers would not let him
forget. A curse as potent as May's
special brew, Miguel. Miguel.
What's the matter now? What's troubling?
You, my love. Is it the fact that you're a?
Killer a weapon? Not even a man, but a sword
without a sheet. Without a sheet?
Without a sheet. Without.
Oh, not now, damn it, huh? I must admit.
What? You're a hard man to find when
the sun goes down, Master Kai. Oh, good evening, General Sao.
The Council of Jurens and the city drinks.
Yet you. Vanish into tea cups.
Tea is less forgiving than ale, general.
It remembers the hand that pours it, if you get my drift.
You sound like the stories already, do you mind?
Of course, the kettle has One Cup left that refuses to be
lonely. Look, I won't pretend I only
came here for tea. All right, then how may I be of
service to you, General? The officers talk about you.
Is that so? The boy who walked into the lake
that remembers and came out half a spirit.
I'm wondering if that's even true or just Tavern poetry.
I see All right, then. Both.
Perhaps the lake remembers everything that touches it.
I was only a child seeking reflection.
It offered me memory instead of others, of lifetimes not mine.
When I rose, my voice was older than my body.
And the ruque inside you. Wait, was it born there?
No, the Eru K found me later, drawn to the echoes the lake
left behind. It mistook borrowed memory for
vacancy, A parasite's error. You talk.
About curses like you're telling bedtime stories.
To me, a curse is just a lesson told too loudly.
Mine reminds me to listen. When you spoke in court, I was
expecting fire and fury, but you gave us Stillwater instead.
I didn't know how to read that. I see.
Stillwater hides depth, not absence.
You fear what stillness might conceal.
It is a soldier's habit. And you, you fear nothing.
Oh, I fear much, but I learned to let fear steep until it turns
to understanding. Like tea burns less when shared.
I came to measure a legend. Instead I found a man quoting
kettles. And which do you prefer?
The man, although I'm sure I'll be denying that in the morning.
Your secret's safe with me. Before you go, General, tell me
truthfully. You've seen the Dawn's banners
closer than most. What do you make of them?
They call themselves reborn, but what I've seen are corpses.
I forgot to fall. They move without rhythm,
without fear, just obedience. And that frightens me more than
any blade. Men like Valerius think
obedience is purity. I've served enough warlords to
know it's only rot wearing scripture.
Rot wearing scripture. You speak as one who has watched
the rot spread. I have, and I've buried soldiers
who mistook it for faith. That's why I don't trust monks,
manges, or men who whisper to swords.
But tonight, I'm willing to listen.
Then perhaps the Rift has hope. Yet Listening is where every
path begins. Careful Master Kai, you keep
talking like that and well, I might start believing your
legends. Then they will have served their
purpose. You know?
Rose once spoke of a sow when he served.
The Republic said she could break a battalion's morale with
a stare alone. He never mentioned the beauty
that went with it. Huh.
He said that Rose has been talking too much, clearly to the
wrong people. For the record, he called you
the monk who outran his own shadow.
I thought he was just exaggerating.
He. Exaggerates less than you'd
think. Still, I'm glad to know the
admiration is mutual, even if the compliments travel slowly by
rumor. You're more dangerous with words
than with Fiskailon. Only when truth insists on being
charming. Thank you for the T and the
conversation. And thank you for keeping me
company, General Sow. It's rare these days to speak
without drawing blood. Then let this night be our first
truce, General 1 shared between silence and steam.
Truce accepted. Goodnight, Master Kai.
Two warriors, once divided by rumor and record, now left with
questions neither expected to ask.
And as the last of the tea cooled between them, so too did
something unspoken. Not an ending, but the quiet
beginning of curiosity. Way of the.
Jaded Fist. Later that night, Harbour Town
slept beneath a hush of salt and cedar.
The festival grounds lay dark, lanterns cooling from the day's
work. But out on the edge of Breaker's
Bay, beneath the glint of the moon, Captain Marta Rose and her
sentient sword were conducting. Let's call it an experiment.
Now, theoretically, if chi can be stored as radiant light
instead of raw current, then a detonation sequence could soothe
the nervous system rather than shock it.
Imagine fireworks that ease the heart, not rattle it, ah.
Yes, because nothing says therapeutic like small
explosions in the night sky. Oh come on, Master, where's your
scientific sense of adventure? My what?
You mock, but the chi balance is the key.
Most pyrotechnics are unrefined brute combustion of powdered
minerals and spell oil. But if I tune the resonance to
verdant frequency, the light releases in harmonic waves and
then voila, fireworks that heal. Incredible.
I don't believe it. Whisper Steal.
You're a bloody talking sword, but fireworks that heal is a
bridge too far to cross for you. Sheesh.
Sheesh indeed. Oh, Oh my goodness, Master.
It's ready. What's ready?
That means it's ready. Marta, what the verdant hell are
you talking about? What are you doing with that
Lantern? Oh.
Hit the dirt. What fresh?
Hell is this. Be.
Under attack. Oh, this isn't good.
Marta, what part of this was soothing?
And with that, she pulled the trigger on possibility, painting
a single streak of emerald across the sleeping sky and
terrorizing all of Harbour Town in the process.
The citizens did eventually calm down, but the jury is out on
whether or not it's thanks to the fireworks.
No, no, it. Won't.
Hurt you all, I swear it's therapeutic.
Back to the drawing board, my pupil.
It's therapeutic. With that, we come to the end of
part one of our small festive story arc, Season of Lanterns.
Our heroes will be back sooner than you think to work out the
kinks in their inventions and in their lives.
Next time, we return to the village of Morning Vale with
Rose and Wisteria in Names that Burn, the second installment of
that storyline. Until then, I'm Raymond Getty,
your faithful show announcer. Thanks for tuning in.
We'll see you all next time. None.
None.
Way of the Jaded Fist utilizes text to speech features as well
as the services of real voice artists to bring these
characters to life. No one's voice is used without
their permission. We've decided to use these sorts
of features as an ethical tool for storytelling and not as a
weapon of theft. It truly is a blend of talent
and technology. Special thanks to Moonlight
Revere, Call Me Sybi Carter, The Mountain King, Leah Wade, Sir
Donald McLeod, Rachel Abbott, Marcus Ryder, Mac Bolin,
Dominique Cherry, Trevor Hyde and Micah Ellis.