Emily Bronze: Narrator
Annika Storm for Female Narrator
Emily Bronze is a female character in an ongoing book series, she is both the narrator of the story as well as her own lines in the story itself. This is a reluctant hero story, one that is adult in nature and deals with loss as well as the weight of responsibility given without free will, to be chosen, etc. Her accent is one usually found from Texas to Utah, a mild western accent with all the usual accompaniment. If this is your natural speaking voice, you will likely flow better in the story narrations than having to force it.
- english
- american (midwest)
- american
- cowgirl
- female adult
- western
- adult
- Western
- female young adult
- audacity
Emily frowned at the large, gaping cavern that had been carved out from the large rock face, the edges twisted and almost burned by the heat of the drill that had plowed its way through. Beside the opening were the ruined remains of the Titanus Marrow-Drill, a piece of stolen mining tech from a dimension unknown to Emily, but it had apparently popped in briefly during a Krak Storm. These Krak Storms were new, a kind of rippling nerve twinge between all the dimensions tethered to Earth. Like bouncing life rafts in a torrential, void-like sea getting bumped by an unlucky beachball that strayed too close. When a storm arrives, random, innocent dimensions briefly collide with Earth’s and the ones tethered to it, causing an opening to form and allowing things to pass back and forth. These were becoming more and more common, much to the detriment of both Earth and these poor, unlucky spaces in the void.
“Don’t see any other way about it. Won’t even be able to take vehicles as far as I could reckon, tunnel likely narrows like a mother fucker where we’re goin’.” Emily sighed out, resettling the straps on her shoulders with a roll of her arms. “Best be able to spread out. The map says they were burrowin’ all over the place, makin’ avenues and larger tunnels so their forces could gather. Not to mention all the little arteries leadin’ up from… from his…” Emily swallowed tightly, her throat suddenly dry. “... The Flesh Tailor’s lair.”
Emily kept pumping her legs as the horde loomed closer, and she realized that their tone had changed as soon as she blew through the struggling survivors. They went from laughing and hooting, chasing down wounded prey with glee, to suddenly facing their most hated enemy at the current moment in time. It was as if someone had flicked a switch and changed their attack settings as soon as Emily loomed into view. Their faces became serious, their eyes wide with recognition, and they started now running with earnest, only loping behind the exhausted divers at the current pace to draw out the suffering.
