-♣- Ƙindled -♣-

Who the hell pours the milk first? #CEREALFIRST 

Sweden agrees. 

Robert shat his pants.

I see you enjoy mantitties, nonetheless, It's good for a start! Keep up the good work.

A farmer ploughed his field in Schattenburg as the letter reached the king, he was showing his son how to do it. "There, show me now what I have taught you, Billy."

I find it really stupid that you can't set your age below 10.. What are you guys thinking?

Poor Kais.

Adrian's ghost felt the edginess all the way to the realm of the dead. He would raise his hand skywards and flex his fingers before crying out "EDGEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!"

It was a dark night at Schattenburg. The stars twinkled and the locust were playing their music, everyone was asleep besides one, perhaps two Stafyrs, one of those two was Adrian, he was sharpening his bastard blade up in his room, on the second floor of the manor. The night grew ever darker upon his skin, he sighed as his mind began to play with him, reminding him of thoughts and memories that he wanted to bury, to never again think of. Adrian never fit in anywhere, did he now? No I didn't thought he, pushing the whetstone along the edge of his father's half-and-hand blade. He stopped hearing a noise down stairs, Adrian pushed himself up with help of the sword. This lad followed the steps of his father, he never achieved anything close to great, and when he was about to, he'd slip away from the road, and follow another. Instead of being a lover of the ladies, he buried his nose in books in place of between a lass's legs. What did it matter, nevertheless? Sons always followed their father's already crafted road, it's just a matter of how they chose to walk it, Adrian most likely placed his feet well, but it didn't lead him far. A storm brewed outside, and quickly it came with a strike of lightning, which in turn would frighten Adrian whilst walking down the stairs, he fell and broke his neck. 

Finally I can get some of that thick rubber!

Seriously though, the only thing I could see this being used for is sex-toys.

Börk börk börk

He is scandinavian, do you need to be told anything else?

((Thank you very much. I may need to put them on "models" to show how they look ^_^

Then, in due time - there will be a topmodel of lotc thread somewhere.

I must say, this idea - of selling clothes like this, rather than making custom ones, are very, very clever! I might use it at some point.. after finishing all my damned requests.. Grumble

Elandric turned to his father and smiled weakly "Nothin' father, jus' sum' trade o' words, none importan'" He'd watch Dranan exit the halls. "Father, let's be at his heels.." The young man poked his fatherly figure and followed Dranan out. The noise inside the halls grew louder with whispers and ranting, all about who was the rightful throne holder, and who was the kingmaker in the whole deal. Elandric listened to them both converse, he was still leaning on his Halberd as he send a kind smile to Arial, but not too kind a smile to Kayrin. Elandric shook his head and thought to himself. His face turned red and angered for a few moment.

They all returned into the halls once more, overhearing arguments, and now and then Kayrin getting some hate. Thoughts swirled through his head, hate, but mostly annoyance at how someone leading a nation could be so ignorant of what the people really wanted, wasn't it quite so obvious? Regardless, Elandric sat down with his father to his right, and Dranan not too far left of him. The war-painted placed his hands on the table and grumbled, ever so quietly he said - only so his father could of have heard - "T'is no' worth it.. Tha' A'ightower is tae stubborn - He t'inks bu' fer himself, ah tell ye.. His folk? T'ey be sittin' on our side o' tha' table! Bu' he holdin' Dranan's banner, n' no' his! Tha' shield he calls skull - ah swear tha' it protects a nut.." After he was done talking, he turned his head towards his father and nodded, leaning back in his fancy chair.

Skype name: (If not than...ouch.. PM i guess..)

Timandersson2222

Do you mind being in a Skype group with other voice actors?

Who would you like to voice as ?

Iblees, Orc,

Would you like to voice act as more than one person?

Could do that.

Do you have a good enough mic to voice act?

I've got a good enough, I reckon

Can you read and keep up with the script ?

Yes bruddah

Are you able to talk over others and show emotion while reading the script?

I could do that

Send give us a tiny test of at least 20 secs of a voice. NEEDED to be a .aiff file on Skype

https://soundcloud.com/tim-bj-rn-andersson/lord-of-the-craft-actor-thingy

https://soundcloud.com/tim-bj-rn-andersson/lord-of-the-craft-voice-actor

Elan shrugged, looking a bit disappointed at the spilled wine. "Why.." He thought to himself. "This ale is nothin', think it be weak" Elandric says before quickly chugging it down. He wiped his lips with his free hand, his expression mirrored Dranan's after a few seconds of thinking. "Nae matter wha'll happen, m'lord.. Tha' Anadunes are outnumbered, an' most loikely dry on blade n' armour.. No matter, s'pose we shouldn't be tae sure.."

Elandric stood inside the great hall, leaning against his shorter version of a halberd. He asked some low-born clanslad to go get him some ale, that the boy did - quickly. Elandric smirked and nodded at the lad's leaving. He took a swig of his newly acquired ale. All the noise made him feel at home, all the men talking and chatting, all the women with their gossip, it just felt alive. "Sae Dranan.. Think tha' lord o' Adunadinadane will be takin' part o' this gatherin', or cower loike tha' hen?" The boy snorted with a smile plastered to his lips "Moight be hard wiff only three men tae guide him!" He began laughing quietly, he then snapped out of it and held his axe-length halberd to his side, awaiting his Lord's word.

"Me reason been, is tae tell tha' ye're puttin' faslery behind yer words; Lots whom 'ave helped ye buildin' this Adune o' yers have left, or turned against ye'.. Honestly no', think.. Most o' yer precious followers stand against ye', wantin' ye tae lower yer arms n' come out o' this aloive, else ye'll jus' end loike any other lord tha' has fallen due tae their folk leavin', n' if this will be kept up, ye're jus' one of the lot." Elandric sighed, rolling his shoulders "Foight 'ow long ye will, t'is jus' a matter o' toime. All plants wither, an' they regrow, but t'ey be never tha' same. A new lord is soon tae come, n' ye kno' it, Earendil."  He turned to leave with a grunt "Either ye' participate in tha' trial, n' 'ave a chance tae leave wiff yer loife - an' be respected, at leas' a little.. Or rot in here, havin' yer blade be yer only lad."

It's probably just a broken stone sword.

Elandric would have overheard their somewhat of a conversation as he walked into the throne room, head high. The young, brave lad spat on the ground and snarled at the Lord of Anadune, Kayrin. "Ye' say ye' be tha' lord o' yer folk, an' protector as well, eh?" Elandric pauses to adjust his belt. He was wearing a hauberk, covered by some fancy leather made jerking and a cloak of wolf fur dragged behind him. He'd as well be having his Armas warpaint spread proudly across the left side of his face. "Bu' w'en tha' lot o' em disagrees wiff ye.. ye still claim yerself lord sae high? Ye're bloodeh patethic, 'Earendil'.." The warm fires inside the throne room made him cringe. They were not the fires of old, but new and untamed ones. "Ye' built up this.. 'Aduninidanidane' jus' tae see all yer followers scatter.. Ye' didn' dae sae much as ye' claim ye' have." Elandric coughed loudly "Go along, rule yer town sae dead.. G'luck wiff yer three-man army.." 

NORSK!? NORSK!? JAG ÄR SVENSK!

Draw me next! Or I'll rip something precious away from you1!

Yes - kex

kex

kex

kex