As I mentioned here viewtopic.php?f=82&t=8040&start=40
I will (slowly) post here the adventure that I run face to face, while on this site (here viewforum.php?f=82) you can find the play by post version (that I just declared dead).

Considering that the face to face versiono roughly reached the same position in the story(i.e. at Mema's village, seeing finally how the "enemy" appears) before progressing, I'll avoid writing down that part.

The characters choose to take a closer look.

You dig your feet into the flanks of your unvilling maresand they trot down the slope. The nearer you get to the mass below, the more you are stuck by its sheer size. The rank smellhangs heavy, almost physically repelling you.Mema grpis your mare's mane firmly with both hands. She lets out a whimper of terror, then points into the black army. At first you cannot see what she is pointing at, the you notice a pulsing black mist hanging in the air. Mema shrieks as the black cloud rises and moves towards you, swimming through the air like a black velvet shroud.

The character choose to withdraw as quickly as possible.

You wrench violently at your steeds reins and Mema is nearly swept off the horse's back as you whirl around and race off. You risk a glance behind you and see the black clous swarming after you. A metalling buzzing fills your ears. As it approaches you realize that it is a swarm of black hornets, each the size of a locust. As they swirl above your heads you brace yourselves for the impact, but it never comes.

The characters push for Mema's village.

You gallop on, hoping against hope that you will have time to get to the villagers clear before the hornets arrive. Mema cliings on for dear life as you spur your horse towards the village. As you approach the palisade, the gates swing open and you are bekoned in by a worried villager.

The characters enter the village and warn its inhabitants of the danger.

Mema slips down from the horse and rushes into the arms of her parents. You waste no time in telling the villagers of the danger they are in. They grab what they can of their possessions and livestock before fleeing. Finally, you find yourselves alone in the deserted village. The huge black army is in sight now, steadily oozing through the marshes towards you.

The characters make their escape and go in search of Enthymesis the Enchanter follwoing the indication that they found in his shop when they met Mema the first time.

You ride south, then west as long as you have land under the hoves of your horses. The countryside is completely devoid of man and you can eat and rest in the empty villages as you like. Eventually you reach the river and you find an abandoned barge.

The characters decide to use the barge to cross the river and keep riding west.

After some time riding west through verdant, although lonely, lands, you have to to make your way carefully through wiry, bleached grass. There are no paths on these parts and the grass conceals pot-holes and ruts. Withaut ways or markers you have no way to be sure you are going in the right direction, as you trust your instincts and the position of the sun. Finally you top a hill and gaze the cheerless plateau. The grass thins out and your heart sinks at the sight of the barren plain which stretches almost to the horizon. Then you spot something, far out in the middle of the plains, Screwing up your eyes, you stare intently at the small dot - perhaps a hut or other dweling. You spur your steed down the slope and after a few hhours' ride are at the fringes of the plain. You rrealize with alarm that the wind is rising. Without vegetation, the soil on this plain is dry and sandy, and it whips out around you, obscuring your vision and stinging your face.

The characters dismount and prepare to face the sandstorm behind their horses.

The winds rage for all the night and eventually you fall asleep. When the dust finally settles and the sun rises, you find yourselves sstaring at an expanse of forest. Its presence is inexplicable - you saw no sign of it before the sandstorm.

Continues...

Intrigued, the characters approach and lead their horses along a faintly marked path between the trees into the silent forest.

Soon the path forks at a massive, creeper-stewn tree with drooping foxgloves covering its roots. Looking around, you see the undergrowth is thick and impenetrable and you realize you can't progress furthe with your horses.

The characters examine the tree and the plants that cover it.

The tree is gnarled with age, and is being slowly strangled by the creepers which hug it. Foxgloves grow in profusion, all drooping elegantly to the left, towards the sunlight which filters through the leefy canopy overhead.

From this point onward, following Enthymesis written indications, whatever happens and whatever they hear, they always follow the Foxgloves as a way to navigate through the creepy forest.

A little way down the path you enter a small glade. In the centre you can see a slightly raised mound of loose earth with a neat circular opening just above ground level. From it protrudes a black human hand scrubbing in the loose soil as trying to get grip. As you approach, you realize that the hand's colour is caused by a crawling layer of ants.

The characters, worried, prefer staying a step away and take a second look at the creature.

As you watch, the ant-covered hand grabs a stick that was lying nearby. It then withdraws back into the hole and you hear scraping noises coming from within.

The characters, quite frightened by the scene, quietly move away and keep following the Foxgloves leaves.

Continues...

You push your way carefully along the narrow path. After a short while you begin to hear sounds coming from ahead.

The characters move forward carefully.

Treading carefully you press on, expecting the worst. Suddenly, you hear a loud crashing noise, followed by a shrill: "By Ugbar's fingers!" The cursing is stifled by a loud "Shush!"but other voices cry out: "Shall I shoot 'im now?" "Not until I give the signal!" "What's the signal again?"
Suddenly a voice shouts: "Now!". There is a twanging sound from the trees nearby and a small bow shoots from them, landing at your feet. At the same time a stocky figure leaps on to the pathahead of you. "Aha!" he yells, and lets fly a bolt.

The characters seek cover.

The missile speeds straight at you, but too low and passes harmlessly between your legs. There is a strangled yelp from behind you, and you turn to see a Goblin, with sword raised, staring in surprise at the bolt, which is protruding from his belly. "Nice shooting, Gok! Next time I use the crossbow" he croaks, and topples backward.
The Goblin who fired the criossbow flings it aside guiltilyand draws a small knife from his belt. then he charges towards you with a curse. But after three steps he is whipped off his feet and yanked violently upwards by a noose-trap. "Got 'im!" says a voice nearby, and yet another Goblin copmes into view, holding the other end of the rope. When he sees you, his jaw drops and he let go the rope, dopping his accomplice in a heap and fleeing.
You chuckle up yourselves and advance up the path, marvelling at Goblins incompetence. A little further on, you hear more Goblin voices ahead; "Don't worry, Gubib, I'll pulp 'em." says a squeaky voice.

The characters push ahead confidently to scare them off.

You saunter confidently round a bend and you find yourselves facing an enormous Ogre, his tiny Goblin-sized head glaring furiously at you. Behind him cower six of the Goblins, some of whom you encountered earlier.

Due to a couple of lucky rolls, the chatacters butcher them surprisingly quickly. Searching their bodies they find nothing of interest and they finally resolve to keep following the Foxgloves.

The path begins to slope down, and you hear the sound of running water from up ahead. Soon you reach the banks of a fast flowing stream. After a while, you hear a crashing sound from the far bank. A large and ugly Troll is battering his way through the undergrowth which lines the river bank, towing behind him a big, leafy sapling.

The characters stay quiet and hide where they are.

The Trooll soon disappears off in the undergrowth, still dragging the sapling behind.

The characters keep their Foxglove hunting.

You are losing all your hope of ever finding your way in this shifting maze of pathways, when the trees ahead thin out and the trail leads into a large clearing.
Before you is one of the strangest dwelling-places you have seen: a crude mud hut sitting proudly on four spindly legs, twenty feet off the ground.There are windows in the walls, but they are too high for you to see inside. There is no sign of the door, even as you walk all around the hut.

Continues...

Sorry I got a bit stuck here... I'll continue this write up later, as I want to reach its end. It's just on hold, not forgotten nor dead.

The characters walk under the strange hut and as they step between the narrow legs, they notice an opening in the floor of the hut above them. While they are wondering how on earth they are going to make it up there, the hut begins to lower, the spindly
legs bending.
The characters position themselves directly under the opening as the hut descends towards them.

Inside the hut there isno furniture of any kind, no books or scrolls, not even a single vial of potion! Through Hut windows set in Ihe smooth walls the forest is visible Squatting in the middle of the floor in an old woman dressed in a rough shirt. Her hands are raised above her head, and between them you see a shimmering vision, floating in the air. In a swirling void hangs a wall of cells, full of dishevel- led prisoners. She looks in the characters' eyes and speaks:
"A vision from your future, perhaps? Look closely. Look hard at the slaves of the Abyss! Their souls are in thrall of its Master, and you must rescue them before it is too late. This much 1. wili tell you.
Can you speak my name?'

"You must be Aletheia" they say.

The vision disappears. The woman claps her hands and smiles. "You are bright, for all your ragged looks. It seems destiny has guided you this far, so I must play my pari in its design. Many trials lie before you, and your enemy is not easily vanquished as he is attacking from outside and also from inside! Bui Bythos has fears, and you may be his nemesis. Enthymesis has gone on ahead of you, and his aid will bo invaluable, but you have also to protect the very heart of Blackmoor!'
Then, noticing their pomaces: That heady mash uf herbs you carry does more than you may think,' says the woman. "Vou will know of
its sleep-stealing properties, I warrant. But its powers on this plane are as nothing compared to those it holds in the Abyss. Eaten in that mystic region it will protect you from the Master's crystal breath. Eaten here, it wiU turn your stomach and nothing more! You are very lucky to have such a gift; the Paa, Maet and Teth herbs are extremely rare.'

As she speaks, the characters feel a presence stirring behind their shoulders and when they turn their heads, they are (all three) staring into the eyes of a serpent, each of them feeling on he focus of its stare. The characters try grabing for it, but it is too fast lor them. In an instant all three of them feel its thick coils wrapped around their necks. "Meet Caduceus!" says the woman.

'The best companion of all is he. Loyal, yet independent!' she says. The characters try hard swallowing politely. Aletheia continues: 'ihe plague which in upon this land is spread not by rats' She raises her arms above her head once more and conjures another vision. It is a swirling doud of huge black hornets. The vision disappears, and she speaks again. These parasites can steal a man's spiril with their stings, banishingit to the Abyss and leaving his body a slave, to evil. And what warrior can light off foes so liny?' She pauses, as if deep in thought, then begins to create another vision.
There is one way ihey can be kept at bay for some time. The naturally dried leaves of the Jheera tree may be burnt to produce a fragrant smoke that is fatal to these soul-stealers. A young Theera grows in the forest."
Bui as Ihe vision forms, her lace drops and she lets out a gasp of surprise. A pile of loose soil marks the spot where a tree has been uprooted. Aletheia is despondent and her face is turning into an horror mask.

The characters remember the troll that they saw carrying a sapling by the hanks of the river. Maybe it's the one?
They describe the tree to her, and she confirms that it is indeed the Jbeera.

'You must go at once and rescue the leaves!' she says. '1 control the paths of the shifting forest: follow the trail and you will reach the river. When you have the leaves, the path will lead you safely back to the glade where you left your horses. Give them the time to dry naturally before burning them to protect you from the swarm, otherwise they won't be effective! Be sure you never return to this place: 1 will not be so welcoming a second time as I'm here seeking peace and concentration!'

Minutes later, the characters reach the river at the spot where they saw the Iroll. It's not difficult to spot his clumsy footprints in the soft mud and to follow them into the forest. A little way in, they come upon him crouching by a large hole in the ground, vainly trying to poke the sapling into it.

As the characters approach, the Troll looks round cautiously, waiting for them to act.
At a closer look, he doesn't seem hostile; he is more concerned with rooting out whatever he has trapped in the hole.

The rogue realizes that the Troll hadn't had much success yet because his liny brain hasn't thought of stripping the branches from the sapling, so it keeps catching on the edges of the hole, so he immediately suggests the Troll to do so.

The Troll looks first at the rogue, then ai the sapling, then at the rogue again. His brow creases with effort as he ponders his suggestion suspiciously. Finally he grunts, and begins to rip the branches from the sapling, flinging them all around.
The characters race round after them, plucking the leaves and stuffing them in their backpacks before quietly walking away.
The Troll, meanwhile, uses his much-improved tool to lever a small, spiny creature out of the hole. He snatches his prey up greedily
and rams it whole into his drooling mouth. A moment later, be lets out a gurgling howl of pain.
Tearing at his throat maniacally, he leaps up and down. Then he catches sight of the characters. 'You trick me!' he croaks, and leaps to the attack., but the characters are already in the run, as fighting a Troll at this point of their mission would be meaningless.

Very soon the characters are back at the glade, pleased to see their horses still safely tethered, munching contentedly al the grass. They hurry along the path and out of the foresl and, after several minutes, they look back and are astonished to see a sparkling blue lake where the forest was before. Far off, in its midst, a liny hut rises above the waters, supported by its familiar spindly legs. Aletheia has many ways of discouraging unwelcome visitors to her realm, it seems!

As they were warned about an attack to the very heart of Blackmoor and they have to let the leaves of the Jheera tree dry naturally, the characters decide to go back to the Royal Palace.
The characters pass through abandoned lands: pioneers' hamlets, farmers' villages, rich cultivated lands, the estates of the wealthy nobles of Blackmoor, the walls of Vestfold (and they breath a sight of relief, as the city is still untouched by the plague) until they see thee welcoming sight of the gleaming Palace up ahead.
The Palace Guards are the only soldiers left in the city: 'State your business, peasants' one of them grunts, 'we have no need of kitchen hands'
The characters dtate that they are on a vital mission sent out by Lady Desideria personally and the Guards raise their eyebrows and look them up and down. One of them disappears inside the palace while the other still bars their way. After some while the first one reappears: 'They're too busy with the Lady Desideria's funeral arrangements to sec you today. You'll have to come back tomorrow, 1 suggest you have a bath, if you want to be allowed in.'

The characters panic at the news and decide that they need to enter the Palace ASAP, so they bribe their way in (dearly).
The guards chuckle with glee and pocket the money. One of them leads the characters through the gates and into a small antechamber. I'll fetch someone who can help,'
After several minutes, the slight form of Brangaine of Maus breezes into the chamber, accompanied by six hulking bodyguards and a shifty, travel-stained individual named Luthaur, one of the irther heroes who stayed behind to protect Vestland. 'What is it you want?' she snaps abruptly at the characters.

They explain to her what you have discovered during your journey, and the rogue notices as they do so a smirk appear on the face of the hero. When finish, Brangaine turns to him. Is this true?' she asks- *Mo, my !.ady,' he replies. 'As you know, I myself have just returned from scouting those very lands, and 1 saw no invading horde. It was jusl a wild story spread by some irresponsible rumour-
monger: the superstitious villagers had merely abandoned their villages and hidden in the forests. Does this wastrel think to impress you with these ridiculous claims?' Brangaine turns back to the characters and frowns. 'T am too busy with the arrangements for
Lady Desideria's funeral to listen to your bickering. I will use mv own methods to ascertain the truth. Meanwhile you will spend the night in the palace.'

The characters follow off to the servants' quarters where are given a hard pallet to sleep on, but, as darkness falls, they lie awake on their pallets, waiting for all the servants to fall asleep. Straining their senses, two of them make out a faint, familiar buzzing. The enemy is within the Palace!
They sneak out to the inner courtyard and, looking across at the keep, they see a black shadow rise from it and disappear into the
night sky. The keep is the dwelling-place of Blackmoor's nobility: its central tower contains Lady Desideria's private suite and audience-chamber. The winged creature flew not from the lower itself but from one of the windows of the keep from which the tower springs.

While the (clumsier) warriors stay in the yard, ready to help with their weapons, the rogue sneaks on.
The main door into the keep is expected be with no doubt well guarded. However, by climbing a flight of steirs in the palace walls and slipping along the walkway that runs along their lop, the rogue plans toto reach its roof. Glancing niund the courtyard, he notices a coil of rope hanging from ahook outside the stables, so he wrap this round himself and make way way up the stairs- His companions keep an eye open forany sign of the guards who occasionally patrol the walkway, ready to whistle the verse of an owl.
The rogue creeps along the walkway until he reaches the point where it meets the keep. From here it is only a short drop on to the slightly sloping roof of the keep of the Royal Palace. Above, rises the keep's tower; but target is the keep below. The winged creature came from one of the windows below, bul he can't knowwhich one. The keep has four walls looking into the courtryard, and each
has a small casement window. Around the edge of the keep runs a row of ornamenlal spikes, round which it is possible to loop the rope. It is possible to peer in at each of the windows.

First window:
The room is quite sparingly furnished, containing nothing more than a bed, a couple of charrs and a dressing-table with mirror.
On the bed, Gwen Rehant sits bolt upright, fully dressed. She stares at one of the empty chairs and seems to be conducting a conversation: '. . . 1 remember when you first came to Vestfold and I introduced you to King Ewan Andahar. Who would have known then that you were to marry' him? . . . Such a sweet innocent young thing, you were . . . What's that? . . . You must stop worrying about Blackmoor, Desideria, I'm sure Calogrenant has evenything under control. . .'

Second window:
Brangaine of Maus sits on the floor, carefully packing gold and jewellery' into a small iron-bound trunk. Obviously she is preparing for an urgenl journey ... or escape.

Third window:
The room is dimly lit, and you strain to see the stark features of the Lady Igraine, which seem to be staring back at you.

The rogue freezes and then realizes that she is deep in meditation. She sits at a small table, upon which lie a board and counters. With her fingertips she gently moves the tokens across its surface. After a careful observation, the rogue notice that the board is a map of Blackmoor..

At this point the companions hidden in the backyard whistle like an owl: a guard is passing not too far and may spot the rogue soon, so he lowers down in the darkness, happy with what he saw insofar.

While they are returning to the servants' quarters, suddenly they hear the sound of grating metal nearby. Behind the characters is a small metal door which leads into one of the outbuildings of the palace. A key is turning in the lock.
The characters find some niche where they can hide by the side of the door. The door is opened and they hear several voices. You One is that of Luthaur, the traitorous adventurer who embarrassed them in front of Brangaine of Maus: 'Put up quite a struggle, eh, lads?' he says' 'Yes, Luthaur, they don't call him Hector the Invincible for nothing - even with enough brew inside him to drop a dragon, he fought like a dozen men.' 'Don't worry, the other ones will be a lot easier.'

The characters decide to follow the voices, hoping to give them an unpleasant surprise.

The passage is very dark, and after a few yards you nearly tumble down a steep flight of stairs. After a tortuous descent the passage widens out and you see the warm glow of torchlight ahead. You make your way past a row of empty cells into a rough-hewn cavern, full of shadowed niches and alcoves. Your attention is drawn to the large metal grille set into the floor. At its centre is a trapdoor of thinner bars. A few feet from them, you make out a pair of hands gripping the grille tightly. Stepping closer, you see that a man is hanging from the grille, while below him a huge shape moves in the darkness, making foul sucking and gurgling noises.

The characters rush to open the trapdoor and save the man.

You cross to the barred trapdoor. It has a lock on it but, when you grasp the bars, you find it has been left unlocked. You lift it easily with both hands and reach through to see whether you can grasp the man's hand. Unfortunately he is too far away, so you call to him to edge closer. From his muscular build, you guess that this is Hector the Invincible, Lady Desideria's champion. He starts to make painful progress towards you, one hand at a time.
Then yciu are aware of somebody behind you - just as they kick you violently in the back, sending you headlong into the gurgling darkness.
None of the characters thought about watching his back.

You land painiully on the soft floor of the pit. To one side you can make out a single luminous eye regarding you from amid a bulky, shifting mass of mottled grey flesh. Beneath the eye is a gaping black maw, from which come ghastly sucking noises. It is a Quagrant, a horror bred by only the most loalhsome and warped sorcerers.

The characters hold back for a moment, trying to use Mema's blowpipe (hoping that magic will work).

As ihe Quagrant lumbers in your direction, the rogue draws Mema's blow-pipe from his pocket and points the slender lube al the creature, while it begins to suck at you, and yon struggle to keep your footing.
As you blow hard down the tube, a cloud of fine powder billows forth and is instantly sucked into the creature's gaping mouth.
With a convulsive shudder it collapses backwards, choking and wheezing aslhmaticaUy. The creature is not dead, but in clear difficulty.

The characters attack with their sacred weapons, but still suffer fairly heavy injuries to defeat the horrific Quagrant.

However, on the grille above the characters now stands the spindly jailer, cackling and dangling the keys from his fingers.