DnD-Style Audition Lines for Voice Actors, Vol. 4
Hone your fantasy voice acting skills with these original tabletop-inspired character practice lines, perfect for Dungeons & Dragons campaigns, fantasy RPG auditions, and animated series demos. Each character provides distinct vocal range, emotional contrast, and tonal variety to help you develop authentic fantasy performances, expand your demo reel, and prepare for high-fantasy casting opportunities.
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Wendrin Oakthistle
A halfling tavern keeper in her sixties with a warm, raspy contralto and a thick country accent. Gossips like it's a sport and pours drinks like she's saving lives.
Sit yer bones down, dearie, and don't ye dare tip me with copper, I've got pride.
(cackle) Oh, the bard? Aye, he left at sunup with two boots, one shirt, and zero dignity. Bless him.
Now you listen here, ye great lumpin' brute. This is MY tavern, built with MY hands, and I have personally outlived three husbands, two wars, and a very persistent rat. So ye can either sheath that sword or I can show ye where I keep the cleaver.
Sarn Vox the Hollow
A revenant warlock with a cracked, whispery baritone that sometimes splits into a second, deeper voice mid-sentence. Cursed and ancient, speaks like every word costs him something.
I died on a Thursday. The grass remembers. The grass always remembers.
(rasping breath) Don't pity me, child. Pity the thing that bargained with me. It has not slept since.
You think you summoned me. (low double-voiced laugh) No. I have been walking toward this room since before your grandmother drew her first breath. SPEAK THE NAME, MORTAL, OR FEED THE PACT YOURSELF!!!
Brindle Quickfoot
A jittery gnome cartographer with a high, breathless tenor that runs words together. Brilliant, anxious, and absolutely terrible at small talk.
Yes-yes-yes, the map, I have the map, it's right here, somewhere, ish, mostly.
Okay so technically, technically, that mountain shouldn't exist, but it does, and I find that more upsetting than I'm letting on.
(whimper) You said "short detour." You said "couple hours." We are now four days into a swamp that is on no map I have ever drawn, and I draw EVERY map, sir, EVERY map, and frankly I am beginning to take this PERSONALLY.
Dame Yvaine Carrowmoor
A retired paladin in her late fifties with a clear, measured alto and the steady cadence of someone who has nothing left to prove. Quiet faith, sharp edges.
Lower your blade. I have killed better men today before breakfast.
(soft) I prayed once. For a friend. The god I served did not answer. (beat) I have been answering for him ever since.
You wear the sigil of my old order. You wear it badly. So before you raise that hammer at this village again, I want you to look at me, knight to knight, and ask yourself if your oath remembers you. BY THE LIGHT I ABANDONED, YIELD!!!
Kessik Drey
A smug tiefling con artist in his early thirties with a velvety mid-range baritone, theatrical phrasing, and a laugh that arrives a half-second too early. Lives entirely on charm and audacity.
Darling, I haven't lied to you yet today. Don't ruin my streak.
(chuckle) Oh, the contract? Yes, yes, I signed it. Whether that was MY name on it... well, that's between me and several increasingly upset clerics.
Look, I could explain how this works, or you could just hand over the ring, smile politely, and walk away believing you got the better end of the deal. Honestly? Option two is kinder to both of us.
Mother Ulgrenna Stoneborn
A goliath shamaness in her seventies with a deep, gravelly contralto that rumbles like distant thunder. Speaks slowly, in long pauses, as though listening to the earth between sentences.
The mountain has been here longer than your kingdom. It is not impressed.
(long sigh) You came up here to ask me a question. Sit. Drink. Forget the question. The answer will arrive when it is ready.
There is a storm walking toward this valley, little one. It wears a man's face, but it is not a man. And when it comes through that pass, the wind will know my name and yours, and only one of us will still be standing at sunrise.
Pip Mossbarrow
A cheerful kenku ranger with a chirpy, fragmented voice cobbled together from stolen phrases. Speaks in mismatched accents and tones, sometimes shifting mid-sentence.
"Good morning, good morning!" (different voice) "Top of the day to ya, friend!" (own quiet voice) Hello.
(mimics a hawk cry, then giggles) Found tracks. "Three days old, give or take." Wolf, probably. Maybe worse.
"Stay close to the trees." "Don't drink from the river." "If you see a deer with too many eyes, RUN." (pause, own voice) Forest told me. I'm only repeating.
Lord Edrich Vellanmoor
A pompous human noble in his mid-forties with a clipped, nasal tenor and the petulant rhythm of a man who has never been told no. Constantly aggrieved.
Do you have ANY idea who my father is? Don't answer that. Of course you don't, you reek of stable.
(scoff) A duel? With YOU? I'd sooner duel a goat. At least the goat would have manners.
You will return my horse, you will return my signet, and you will apologize to my chamberlain, who has not stopped weeping since you so much as LOOKED at him. And if you cannot manage that, peasant, my guards will be along shortly to manage it FOR you.
Skarn the Even-Handed
A retired hobgoblin general turned wandering judge with a deep, gravel-edged baritone and military precision in every syllable. Slow to anger, terrifying when reached.
State your name. State your crime. Do not waste my time with the order.
(steady, measured) I have presided over four hundred and twelve disputes since I hung up my blade. I have ruled in favor of the weak three hundred and nine times. The strong rarely need me.
You stand accused. You have spoken. The accuser has spoken. The witnesses have spoken. (long pause) Now I speak. And when I am done speaking, soldier, only one of us in this clearing will still be carrying steel.
Wisp
A mischievous pixie trickster with a tiny, bell-like soprano that flits between giggling and oddly profound. Speaks in fragments and rhymes when bored.
Hello, big one! Big one with the sad eyes! Why so droopy?
(sing-song) Lost a coin, lost a glove, lost a love, lost a love. (sudden quiet) That last one's yours, isn't it.
Oh, you want to leave the grove? Sure, sure, easy-peasy, just answer my riddle. Get it right, you walk free. Get it wrong... (giggle) well, I haven't decided yet, and that's the FUN part, isn't it?
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