Some stories use Dreams, a homemade tool.
Very inspired by Lost Odyssey's "A Thousand Years or Dreams" (watch an example), this plug-in allows us to show our own stories with an unusual and more immersive presentation.
To enjoy these "dreams", please take your time, put on your headphones or turn your speakers on.
A snowstorm strikes Dun Morogh. Two Dark Iron dwarven silhouettes walk through the frozen wind.
"I hate this place, I can't believe we're here, freezin' our arses off," complains Harska. "It better be worth it, or ye'll be in fer a rough time."
"As if it changes anythin'," says Skold. "But keep grousin', it'll keep ye warm. As fer the intel, I'm sure it's good."
Harska mumbles. "Fer yer sake, it better be..."
The dwarves continue their advance. They can't see far, for the violent wind continuously whips their faces with snow.
Finally, as they progress through the blizzard, they see some light in the distance.
"There it is!" shouts Skold. "I knew it was there, right?"
Harska rolls her eyes. "Aye, ye're a real genius. Now move yer ass, I don't want tae stay in this cold longer than necessary."
As they walk towards the light, a massive construction appears before them, mostly covered with snow, except for the huge and smoking chimney. The large front door is firmly closed and guarded.
Skold unsheathes his axe and mace.
"What the fock are ye doin'?" asks Harska. Skold immediately stops.
He opens his mouth, but Harska stops him before he could say anything. "Think again."
Skold cogitates, scratches his head, then finally answers. "Maybe we should look fer a back door?"
Harska smirks. "That wasn't so hard now, was it?"
The dwarves make a cautious advance. The weather helps them moving without being noticed. They try and inspect the building, seeking an overlooked back entrance.
There! A door on the left side of the edifice, and nobody to guard it. Exactly what they were looking for. Harska and Skold look at each other just to acknowledge the fact that this is their chance.
They reach the door. Of course, it's locked, and it's sturdy. One last look around, there's still no trace of a single guard.
"After ye," says Skold, bowing like a gentledwarf.
"Thank ye, dear," answers Harska, curtseying in return.
As a token of her channeling the power of Fire, Harska's eyes start glowing a little darker. She slowly places her hands on the lock of the door.
It only takes a moment for her to get the metal white hot, and just a little more to get it to start melting. The lock eventually falls on the ground, sinking into the evaporating snow.
All they have to do now is to pull the door wide open. And so they do.
They make a few steps inside, trying to stay out of sight within the shadow of boxes placed along the walls.
With all the agitation that drives the workers of this place, they're not sure they would even be noticed if they walked right in front of them.
Harska and Skold take a moment to analyse what they see. Goblins are working together on what seems to be a gifts assembly line. They can see toys at one end, quickly being gift-wrapped, then put into bags, themselves put into boxes at the other end.
They shrug at each other, but since they're not here for this kind of gifts, the Dark Iron dwarves continue their progress within this singular factory. They walk through the hallways, hoping they don't cross the path of any employee.
Their little tour ends up in front of the director's office door.
"I guess that's where the money is." says Skold with some delight.
He reaches for the door handle, and a voice arises. "What do you think you're doing?"
Harska and Skold turn around. A well dressed goblin stands straight behind them, surrounded by some henchgoblins. He looks annoyed, even more than Kethael when he sees his Dark Iron prospectors up to no good.
"We're lookin' fer the bathroom?" answers Skold.
The well dressed goblin snaps his fingers. His henchgoblins start moving towards the dwarves, but a distant shout stops them.
Another goblin turns up, running. "Boss, it's a disaster! We've been robbed!"
Everyone, even the dwarves, is surprised. Skold starts to complain, "What? Already? But it was our..." Harska stops him with a nudge.
The worker guides everybody back to the side entrance.
"See? There was a bag right here, and now it's gone. What are we gonna do? Winter Veil is coming, we don't have time for this!"
The head goblin sighs. "Great, two thieves weren't enough, they had to leave the door open for more to come."
He turns to the dwarves. "Do you know who we are? We're the Smokywood Pastures. We own Winter Veil business. We are Winter Veil. And we won't allow some lowlife thieves ruin that."
He takes a file an employee was offering him. "Let's see... Harska Blazetongue and Skold Grimboar... Dark Iron, obviously... Work for the Trader's Initiative..."
He finishes his reading, closes the file, and looks at the dwarves.
"Here's what we're gonna do. You recover what was stolen, you get to have a nice Winter Veil. You don't, and I'll personally see that none of you - that includes your little traders friends - will have a nice Winter Veil. Ever! Did I make myself clear? Now, get out of here!"
On their way out, Skold whispers Harska, "Ye think the others care about Winter Veil?"