D&D Audition Lines for Voice Actors, Vol. 8
Build out your fantasy voice acting range with these original tabletop-inspired character practice lines, crafted for Dungeons & Dragons campaigns, animated fantasy projects, and high-fantasy RPG auditions. Each character brings fresh vocal textures, emotional layers, and tonal contrast to help you sharpen your performances, diversify your demo reel, and book your next fantasy role with confidence.
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Captain Ondrich Vale
A hardened human harbor captain in his late forties with a salt-roughened baritone and the clipped cadence of a man who's barked orders into more storms than he can count. Loyal to his crew, suspicious of everyone else.
Off my ship. Off. I will not say it twice, and I will not say it kindly.
(low chuckle) Pirate? No, lad. Pirates have manners. I'm somethin' worse.
I've sailed three oceans, buried two crews, and lost a wife to a storm I should've seen comin'. So when I tell ye that wind smells wrong, ye don't argue, ye don't ask, ye REEF the bloody sails before the sea makes the decision for us!!!
Nellith Brightwicker
A bubbly gnome cleric in her sixties with a chirpy, melodic alto and an infectious giggle. Treats healing like baking, terrifying foes like a minor inconvenience.
Hold still, hold still, this is going to tingle and possibly smell like cinnamon.
(delighted gasp) Oh, your spleen is on the OUTSIDE! That's a first for me, this is so exciting, hold on, hold on, I have a song for this.
Now, you can either let me mend that nasty wound, OR I can let you bleed out on this lovely rug, which, by the way, I made myself, so I would PREFER option one, dearie, but I am not your mother, I am simply the only person in this room with a god on speed-dial.
Vorrick Halekar
A brooding human necromancer in his late twenties with a soft, hollow tenor and the slow, deliberate phrasing of a man who weighs every syllable. Misunderstood, mostly. Mostly.
The dead don't mind. They never minded. That was always the living's complaint.
(quiet) My sister asked me to bring her back. I said yes. I should have said no. I will spend the rest of my life knowing which answer was kinder.
You came here with torches. You came here with prayers. You came here believing you were the hero of this story. (long pause) The bones in the floor below us disagree. THEY HAVE BEEN WAITING TO DISAGREE WITH SOMEONE FOR A LONG TIME!!!
Sprig Hollowdown
A skittish halfling courier in his twenties with a fast, breathless tenor and a habit of looking over his shoulder mid-sentence. Always running. Sometimes from something real.
Package for ye. Don't open it 'til I'm three blocks gone. Three. Blocks.
(panting) Look, I don't read the letters, I don't ask the questions, I don't make eye contact with the clients, that's the whole JOB, that's why I'm still BREATHING.
They paid me triple to deliver this. Triple! Nobody pays triple unless somebody dies, and I have made it twenty-seven years without anybody dyin' on my route and I am NOT breakin' that streak today, so just TAKE the box, sign the parchment, and pretend ye never met me!!!
Magistrate Olwen Carrothorne
A stern dwarven judge in her hundreds with a deep, gravel-edged contralto and the patience of stone. Speaks slowly, drinks slower, and has never lost an argument in her own courtroom.
Approach the bench. Speak plainly. Lie to me and I will know.
(sigh) I have sentenced kings. I have sentenced beggars. The kings always took it worse.
You stand in my court accused of three murders and a tax violation. Now, the murders I can sort out with witnesses, with evidence, with the slow grind of the law. (long pause) But the taxes, dear boy. The taxes are PERSONAL.
Vey
A genderless, melodic-voiced changeling bard in their thirties with a warm, fluid mezzo-soprano that subtly shifts pitch and accent depending on who they're talking to. Charming, secretive, never quite the same person twice.
Of course I remember you. I remember everyone. It's a curse, really.
(small laugh) You're looking at me like you've seen me before. Funny. I have one of those faces. All of them, in fact.
I sing for coin. I lie for coin. I bleed for coin if the coin is good enough. But the song I sang for you last night, lordling, that one was free, and you should be asking yourself why.
Korrgath Iron-Tusk
A grizzled half-orc forge-priest in his fifties with a booming, hoarse bass voice and a laugh like a hammer on anvil. Worships fire as a living thing, treats his apprentices like they're already dead.
Hotter. HOTTER. The steel is bored, give it somethin' to scream about.
(booming laugh) Ye dropped the tongs! Ye dropped the TONGS! Pick 'em up before the forge takes offense and we ALL die!
The fire don't lie, boy. The fire don't flatter, the fire don't haggle, the fire don't care about yer feelings or yer father or yer pretty little oaths. The fire knows ONE thing, and it knows it BETTER than any priest. BURN HONEST OR BURN ALONE!!!
Lady Sephraine du Marrow
A languid vampire socialite in her unknowable hundreds with a husky, low alto and a slow, drawling cadence dripping with old-world boredom. Treats every conversation like she's already heard it twice.
Mmm. Sit. Stay. I haven't decided what you are to me yet.
(soft laugh) Oh, sweetling, I was old when your great-grandmother was a rumor. Do try to keep up.
You came to kill me. How darling. How predictable. How exactly like the last seventeen, all of whom are buried in my garden in a very pleasing pattern that I designed personally over the course of two centuries. (pause) So please. By all means. Draw the stake. I haven't laughed properly in DECADES.
Pinch
A gleefully unhinged goblin assassin with a sharp, raspy alto and a giggle that always arrives at the wrong moment. Treats murder like a hobby and hobbies like a religion.
Hi! Don't move! Or do! Both are fun for me, honestly!
(cackle) Oh, you tipped the bartender! That's so SWEET of ye! Won't matter in about ninety seconds, but still! Sweet!
See, the contract said "quiet, clean, no witnesses." But I'm an ARTIST, sir, I'm a CRAFTSMAN, and frankly the contract is a SUGGESTION when the muse is screaming at me, and tonight she is SCREAMING, so this is gonna get LOUD and MESSY and DELIGHTFUL!!!
Brother Asmund Wren
A weary tabaxi monk in his late thirties with a soft, gravelly tenor and a slow, purring cadence. Carries himself like every step has been measured against a hundred regrets.
Sit with me. The silence is good company, if you let it be.
(slow exhale) I broke my vows once. Just once. The mountain has not let me forget it, and I have not asked it to.
You think I left the temple because I lost my faith. (quiet) No. I left because I found it, in the wrong place, in the wrong hands, doing the wrong things. And I have been walking ever since, looking for somewhere to put it down that doesn't ask me to bleed for it.
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