Jeremy Albret- Audiobook Demo



Short sample narration from one of my favorite authors! There's already an AWESOME narrator for R.A. Salvatore's forgotten Realms..but I would sure love to narrate one someday!

Vocal Characteristics



Voice Age

Middle Aged (35-54)


North American (General)


Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
prologue. The year of True Omens 14 9 d. R. A lot could be said of king bruner, Battle Hammer of Mithra Hall and many titles could be rightfully bestowed upon him. Warrior diplomat, adventurer and leader among dwarves, men and even elves ruin er had been instrumental in reshaping the silver marches into one of the most peaceful and prosperous regions in all fare un ad visionary to his title fittingly for what other dwarf might have forged a truce with king a bold of the or kingdom of many arrows. And that truce had held through the death of a bold and the secession to his son. Er Glynn hobbled the second. It was truly a remarkable feat and one that had secured Brunner's place in dwarf and legend, though many of the dwarves and mithril Hall still grumbled about dealing with the orcs in any other way than war. In truth, Gruner was often heard second guessing himself on the matter, year in and year out. However, in the end, the simple fact remained that not only had King bruner reclaimed mithril Hall for his stout clan, but through his wisdom, he had changed the face of the north, but of all the titles bruner Battle Hammer could claim as earned, the ones that had always sat most comfortably on his strong shoulders were those of father and friend of the latter bruner knew no peer and all who called him friend knew without a doubt that the king would gladly throw himself in front of a volley of arrows or a charging umber hulk without hesitation without regret in the service of friendship, but of the former bruner had never wed, never sired Children of his own, but had come to claim to humans as his adoptive Children. two Children since lost to him. I tried me best, the dwarf said to dr steward, the unlikely drought advisor to the throne of mithril Hall on those increasingly rare occasions when drizzle was actually present in mithril Hall, I teach them as my father teached me. No one could say different dressed, assured him the drought arrested back in a comfortable chair near the hearth, in the small side of the room of Brunner's chambers, and took a long look at his oldest friend, bruner is great beard was less red, even less orange as more gray wound among the fiery locks, and his shaggy scalp had receded just a bit on most days, though. The fire in his gray eyes sparkled as intensely as it had those decades before, on the slopes of Calvin's Karen and ice wind dale, but not that day, and understandably so. The melancholy so plain in his eyes was not reflected in the dwarfs movements, though he moved swiftly and surely rocking in his chair and hopping to his feet to grab another log, which he pitched perfectly into the fire. It crackled and smoldered in protest, and failed to erupt in flames! Damn wet wood! The dwarf grumbled. He stomped on the foot bellows. He had built into the hearth, sending a long, steady stream of air rushing across the coals and low burning logs. He worked diligently at the fire for a long while adjusting the logs, pumping the bellows and dress. Thought the display fitting for bruner, for that was how they dwarf did everything from holding strong the tentative peace with many arrows, to keeping his clan operating an efficient harmony. Everything just right. And so too, was the fire at last, and bruner settled back in his chair and picked up his great mug of mead. The king shook his head, his face a mask of regret. Should have killed that smell! Your work dressed, was all too familiar with the lament that had plagued bruner since the day he signed the Treaty of garments. Gorge! No! The drought replied, less than convincing.