From: ROWAN Iain <wm0iro@acresearch.sunderland.ac.uk>
Subject: The House of Dreams
System: Elric!

The House of Dreams

An encounter on the roads of the Young Kingdoms for Elric!

Introduction:

This is an encounter for a party of PCs of any number or proficiency. It is one of a series of such encounters intended to be used to add interest and atmosphere to otherwise uneventful journeys, and can be set on a fairly empty country road anywhere throughout the Young Kingdoms.

The Encounter:

The countryside through which the party is travelling is not regarded as particularly wild or dangerous, but caution and the desire to make good speed ensure that most travellers follow the narrow beaten earth of the road. Off the road, the countryside is mostly rolling moorland, with the occasional small copse of trees in the more sheltered dips. The heather of the moor is a rich deep purple, broken up attractively ever now and again by a yellow-berried tanglebush. The party may have noticed the occasional white flash of a rabbit's tail disappearing into the heather at their approach, and will probably have heard the sweet yet sorrowful song of the moorgales, circling high above the moor.

For the last few hours the sky has been clouding over, and without the direct warmth of the sun the travellers can feel the chill of the slight breeze. The clouds seem fairly high, however, and there is no sign of any immediate rain. Within half an hour, however, this situation has changed dramatically. Dark storm clouds are gathering, and the slight breeze has turned into a gusty wind, with a chilling edge to it. The PCs may notice any indigenous small wildlife taking cover in their burrows or nests. In a matter of minutes the clouds open, and an enormous downpour begins, the huge drops of rain being caught up by the wind and thrown into the PCs faces, soaking them to the skin in seconds.

One of the PCs notices what appears to be a light through a small copse of trees up ahead. If the PCs investigate further they will find a small wooden house, built in the prevailing style of the region, which has a storm lantern burning brightly in one window. Before the party can get any closer, they see a face appear briefly at the window, and then dart away. After a few seconds, the door of the house opens, and a small old man appears in the doorway, beckoning the party in.

As the party enter the house the old man ushers them in hurriedly, passing out rough woollen blankets which the PCs can use to dry off or wrap around themselves for warmth. As the last PC enters, the old man fastens the door against the torrential rain and howling wind and turns to the party.

"Greetings travellers, I am Hulgar, and I welcome you to my humble
lodgings. You are welcome to stay until this foul storm has spent
its fury. Please, please, come through. There is a fire burning
and I have some wine mulling which will banish the cold".

Hulgar leads the PCs through to a room at the back of the house. A log fire is roaring, and the PCs can smell the unmistakable and most welcome scent of spices and wine. As the PCs come in, Hulgar busies himself fetching mugs for the wine. He is a small old man, only just over five foot tall, with a mostly bald head surrounded by a frame of snow white hair.

Although obviously of some considerable age, he is nimble and deft in his movements. The house is well furnished, although all the furnishings are in a modest style. Groaning shelves at the end of the back room hold a large quantity of books; more are scattered about on any available surface. A casual scrutiny will reveal that they appear to be a mixture of historical texts, philosophy, and herbal lore.

Hulgar will do his best to see that the PCs are comfortable, and is generally the model of a hospitable and generous host. If any of the PCs refuse the mulled wine (which really is just mulled wine) he will offer them an alternative but then will not press them any further. He will sit and make small talk with the PCs for a few minutes. If asked about his trade, or what he is doing so far from the rest of humanity, he will inform the party that he is a sage and scholar, and performs his studies best when not surrounded by the clamour of mankind. Not, he adds hurriedly, that he objects to the presence of his current guests on such a foul and inclement day.

After a few minutes of this small talk, Hulgar will cross over to the fire. He bows slightly to the PCs, pulls a pouch from his pocket, and scatters its contents on the fire. The flames of the fire briefly turn to blue, and then a soft, soporific smell, redolent of autumn bonfires and the soft fruits which are gathered as a child, the smell of baking bread and mulling wine, rolls its way around the room, and the PCs sink slowly into the comforting arms of sleep. The referee should allow no roll against this effect, and from the moment Hulgar tosses the herbs onto the fire the PCs are effectively paralysed by a sweet lassitude that does not so much stop them moving as remove all desire to do so.

When the PCs awaken, they are lying in the heather just in front of a copse of trees, wrapped in rough woollen blankets. It has obviously been raining, as the blankets are damp, but the sky is now clear and the late afternoon sun is warming on the skin. A large doe rabbit watches the PCs warily from the edge of the copse. The players feel weak and drained, but appear to be physically unharmed. All their possessions remain with them. The road lies just on the other side of the copse, but there is no sign of Hulgar, or indeed the house. When the party's heads clear a bit they will realise that where they are lying is where the house had appeared to be. The blankets that are wrapped around them are ordinary in every way save that they have a sweet warm smell that will linger for a few days (and ensure that anyone who sleeps under the blanket will have the most restful night's sleep that they have ever known). All the PCs will have lost all bar one of their magic points; these will be regained at the usual rate.

If the PCs comment on their story when they reach the next village or town along the road it will be meet with solemn nods and much muttering.

Eventually the party will be approached by one of the respected elders of the local community who will inform them that they have doubtless encountered the House of Dreams and its owner. For over one hundred years now, many travellers on the road in this region have found themselves Hulgar's guest in the midst of a terrible storm, and have experienced exactly the same as did the party of PCs. No-one has ever been physically harmed in any way. There are many conflicting rumours about Hulgar's origins. One is that he is a Champion of the balance, engaged in powerful struggles with cosmic forces, who requires the use of travellers' souls for one hour to perform his mysterious work. Another rumour states that Hulgar is the revenant of a great sage and scholar who was murdered in the night by a gang of travelling bandits, who haunts the roads of the region, feeding on the strength of those he finds, constantly looking for his enemies, not knowing that they are long dead and buried.

Further possibilities:

Several further opportunities for adventure exist.

* The PCs might attempt to find out what it is that Hulgar is doing
that requires the use of so much spiritual power.

* They might hear a rumour that those who have slept in the House of
Dreams are marked in some way, and that when they eventually die,
their souls will pass to Hulgar for all eternity.

* Hulgar watches over those who have (however inadvertently) aided
him, and will appear once at an hour of great need to help them.

* The local authorities might regard those who have slept in the House
of Dreams as tainted and dangerous.

* A powerful sorcerer and agent of Chaos might hear about the party's
experience and wish to find out everything that they know which
might aid him or her in their quest to find Hulgar and steal the
dreamhouse from him.

Iain Rowan April 1996