First-person Narrated Story
ConnorCrunch for Narrator
Seeking a male narrator with a charming voice for this one Must be able to embody a middle-aged warrior and showcase versatility by portraying various accents and voices for supporting characters within the story. It is crucial for the narrator to be literate and able to speak as they read along!
Let's help you get into character with a little bit of background:
Amidst the tapestry of our narrative, we glimpse the world through the eyes of a rugged peasant soldier. Far from the pages of grand fantasies, he embodies the essence of humble valor, honed by his life as a common warrior. Alongside his devoted comrades, they set forth on a transformative expedition to a serene village, entrusted with the vital task of training the local militia and fortifying the watchful bailiff. Yet, destiny weaves a complex web, and their seemingly straightforward mission becomes entangled in a web of unforeseen trials, where the true essence of their mettle shall be tested.
If you wish to offer multiple entries to express the voices you can pull off, please don't hesitate!
On the other hand, I understand the lines provided are a little bit long, so you may go with just one if you please.
Also please note, that if you can't read/imitate accents (or aren't entirely comfortable with it), I will edit the script to exclude it for you.
- english
- male adult
- all english accents
- adult
- audiobook
- audiobooks
- narration
The rain pelted relentlessly against the thatched roof of a desolate tavern, “The Fighting Cock”, its timeworn exterior barely providing shelter from the tempestuous night. Weary and soaked to the bone, my comrades and I sought solace within its dimly lit confines. The air was thick with the mingling scents of damp wood and stale ale, while the crackling hearth struggled to ward off the chill that seeped through our armour.
With a heavy heart, Bogush gazed upward, searching for answers that seemed to elude him. His eyes, filled with a glimmer of desperation, silently pleaded a question that weighed heavily upon his soul. Shoulders hunched and hands tightly clenched around a mug of ale, his body language betrayed the weight of his burden—an emblem of hopelessness etched upon his face, longing for a flicker of guidance in a world that offers none. “The country’s dying?”
Roderick, still unconvinced, leaned back in his chair. "Ach, a'richt, Ah unnerstaun'. Duty ca's. But let's nae preten' we'll enjoy trainin' a bunch o' farmers swingin' sticks aboot. We'll be lucky if they even listen”
