No Return
No Return: An Audio Drama by Kier Zhou
Enjoy yourself in the chaotic, fantastical world of "No Return," where the worldbuilding ambition rivals Robert Jordan, the humour channels Terry Pratchett and Douglas Adams, and the violence echoes Tom Sharpe—all wrapped in the indie punk aesthetic of a one man band making content on a laptop powered by a potato.
This full cast comedy fantasy spans a diverse array of tales:
- Clumsy Divine Quests: Join researchers on accidental divine missions.
- Mercenary Chaos: Witness comedic clashes between mercenaries and foreign warships.
- Eerie Mysteries: Delve into the haunting search for lost children.
- Ancient Secrets: Unearth treacherous truths in the Darklands.
- Sinister Plots: Navigate a city's dark underbelly filled with kidnappings and dark schemes.
- Ensemble Comedy of Errors: Dive into epic fantasy battles where magic and mayhem reign supreme.
- Actual Play: Follow the gripping saga of a burning city and the heroes fighting for its survival amidst chaos and intrigue. Told through a tightly edited TTRPG actual play.
And remember, for those seeking extra tales and behind-the-scenes magic, check out:
[https://patreon.com/NoReturnAD]
No Return
Bonus Content: The Parable of Elra and the Whispering Willow
Why did Semion keep calling The Domina, 'Elra'?
Is it because my Dad doesn't know how to pronounce the 'Y' in Elyra?
No! It references an ancient Halfling Fable from long before the Fall...
And also because Dad doesn't know what ys are for... things can be multiple things... okay?
Enjoy!
Narrator: Faye Holliday
Elra: Anna Gąsecka, also known as Ren_Overshares or @Ren_Cant
Mrs Pottersby: Faye Holliday
Malvin: AJ Fidaglo AKA Mr F
Elder Thorne: Chris RR Bauso
Elder Mara: Lilly Inverse
Mage: Umbriels Shadow
Villager: Taylor Michaels
Villagers: The Cast
Written, produced and edited by Kier Zhou
The Parable of Elra and the Whispering Willow
The sands of time, rough and unyielding, wear thin the tapestries of recollection. Yet from yonder age, or mayhap the age afore, there endures a halfling legend. A chronicle borne not of quill or parchment, but handed down in the lilting whispers from mother to maiden, and sire to son. A parable, imparted to the young, cautioning against the untutored passions birthed from the solace and tranquillity granted to a halfling child.
In the quaint and scenic hamlet of Dunberry, nestled amidst the rolling green of the halfling lands of Adref, the name 'Elra' echoed with quiet reverence. Elra, a noble halfling chieftain, was renowned for her boundless benevolence and profound empathy. With tresses of coiled auburn cascading down, and a visage adorned with nature's own freckles, her emotions were as clear as the waters of the Afon. Her abode, a sanctuary, ever stood as a beacon for those with burdens of heart.
Elra:
(cheerfully): "Good morning, Mrs. Pottersby! Those pies smell delightful!"
Mrs. Pottersby:
“May all the spirits smile upon us and the gods bless you Chief Elra. You do good by our people even the least amongst us. Baking some pies for your waifs and strays is the least I can do!
Elra:
Thank you so much Mrs Potterby, though I am not sure that the guests at Hearthglen Haven would much care for being called waifs and strays- but I am sure they do care deeply for your delicious pies and would no doubt excuse you for them.
Pottersby:
Oh you are a tease Elra! Keep up the good work. Sither watch and protect you Elra, watch and protect you!
Hearthglen Haven stood as the very jewel of Dunbury, and even more so in the heart of its chief, Elra. Those downtrodden and weary of the realm found solace beneath its eaves, a soft bed to lay their burdens, and nourishment to warm their insides. Word of Dunbury's benevolence rippled across the vast lands of Adref. Dunbury, the very cradle of compassionate spirit, and its chieftain, the living embodiment of Sither, the Guardian of Safe Harbours. But on a day unlike any other, a sojourner by the name of Malvin stepped into its bounds, bearing a sorrow so profound that even stalwart Elra's eyes brimmed with tears.
Malvin:
Oh great heart, to bring such woes and dark tidings brings such shame… but I am at a loss… I am cursed… bound by dark magicks to the Whispering Willow on the borders of your land! The willow itself is a source of great power and beguiling enchantment…but not through it’s design but through some ebon machination of a wicked soul, my fate has been bound to it… each night I am forced to transform into a withered bough of the tree, to suffer agonising contortions of my flesh and bone… only to be reborn each morn, with the first rays of day, as a halfling of Adref once more…. Please great heart, Elra of Dunbury, Matron of the HearthGlen Heaven, hear my desperate plea and render what aid you might to a wretched soul.
Elra:
[very sad] It pains me greatly to hear of your plight Malvin. Such wicked fates are seldom earned and they are not the prerogative of mortals to deal… I will help you Malvin…your pain is as my pain and your fate shall be as my fate.
Moved deeply by Malvin's mournful tale, Elra, in her wisdom, summoned the venerable elders of the village, seeking their ancient counsel. While many amongst them cast doubting glances upon Malvin, beseeching Elra to send him forth, her heart, bathed in the very essence of compassion, could not stand idly by as he navigated his sea of anguish.
Elder Thorne (cautiously):
"This tale of the Whispering Willow... it's old magic, dangerous."
Elra (compassionately):
"We must help, it’s our way. What other options avail us? To watch as this soul suffers endless torment? Such a moral wound could not be endured by the best of us."
Elder Mara:
"Beware, Elra. Not all stories bear truth."
Determined, Elra made the decision to harness the collective might of the halflings to break the chains of Malvin's malevolent spell. Each denizen of Dunbury, in a show of unity, joined hands, forming an unbroken ring around the Whispering Willow. With voices harmonising in an ancient chant, Elra, with grace, laid her hand upon the tree's venerable bark, pouring forth the very essence of her spirit into it.
Elra (determined):
"Link arms, everyone. We shall free this soul."
Malvin (whispering):
"Thank you, Elra."
Elra & Villagers:
Thallo greeve, thallo glen… Moorlo moot, moorlo mare… Thallo greeve, thallo glen… Moorlo moot, moorlo mare…
Villager:
"The tree! It's reacting!"
Abruptly, the willow's limbs began to flail and dance in a frenzied motion, casting a mix of wonder and trepidation upon the halflings of Dunbury. Without warning, from the very core of the ancient tree, a form draped in darkness materialised. The silhouette, with a cackle steeped in wicked glee, revealed itself as none other than the enigmatic mage rumoured to have ensnared Malvin with the curse.
Mage:
[Villainous laughter} Thank you Malvin…yet more fuel for fire!
Malvin:
[Ashamed] Yes… master
A revelation took hold; Malvin was not the afflicted, but rather a co-conspirator. In unison, they had plotted to siphon the vitality of the halflings, bolstering the mage's sinister might. Elra's immeasurable kindness had shrouded her vision, masking the treachery before her. In her noble endeavour to aid, she had inadvertently placed her beloved hamlet and her kinfolk in the shadow of peril.
Elra:
Malvin…how could you… we brought you into our homes and heart… we cradled you to our bosom… [to Villagers] STOUT FOLK OF DUNBURY! HALFLING OF ADREF! WE HAVE BEEN BETRAYED BUT WE WILL NOT BE DEFEATED! TO ARMS! TO BATTLE! FIGHT!
A tempestuous conflict arose. The halflings, though of slight stature, fought with a spirit as vast as the skies. Yet the mage's potency, magnified by their own essence, proved formidable. Slowly, each halfling succumbed, their very life essence being drawn into the heart of the Whispering Willow.
{Sounds of battle and defeat]
Elder Thorne:
Elra! Elra we must retreat! We are being overwhelm- eugh!
Elra:
Elder Thorne! No! {blast from mage knocks her to the ground} Eugh! [Heavy laboured breaths as the magic drains her life] No….no…this…cannot…be…the…end…
Mage:
It is not the end little ‘great heart’…your strength will endure… in me…
Elra, with her vigour diminishing, bore witness in heart-wrenching torment as her kin were subsumed. And as the last vestige of resistance faded, she too was ensnared, her very soul forever entwined within the confines of the Whispering Willow, a reservoir of vitality from which the mage might ever draw.
Elra:
[Pleading to her god] Sither… Sither…. Why?[final blow lands silence]….
The mage, in his dark triumph, took leave of Dunberry, forsaking the hamlet that once teemed with life, now hushed, save for the sorrow-laden sighs of the Whispering Willow...
Mage:
Thank you, ‘great heart’ for everything you have given me… [to Malvin] Come Malvin! I hear kindness is catching in this land! We have many more welcomes to receive.
Malvin:
Yes, Master.
In the quiet corners of halfling dwellings, by the warmth of the hearth, this chronicle might yet be recounted... Yet scarce are those who now recall Dunbury or the vast stretches of Adref. For the rare few, this tale stands as an admonition: whilst compassion is a virtue of the highest order, when one navigates the corridors of power, discernment must ever walk alongside.
