Where the Cold Winds Blow... A Lost Mines of Phandelver Story

(The attack was an AoO. Sorry if there was any confusion.)

1. T'laren/Garrin/Droop 
2. Droknin
3. Keashirryl
4. Wereboar

Droknin's AoO fails to connect with the fleeing Wereboar but Garrin's butterfly blast doesn't miss.   The lycanthrope is badly hurt and snorting and snarly wildly.  Droknin has continued to chase but hasn't taken an action yet.  The barbarian, for his part, also looks badly hurt but doesn't seem to notice.   

The others are pursuing but at further distances.

(After his AoO misses, he strikes again.)

Talon Attack: 10 Damage: 9

The wereboar, more desperate than ever, sidesteps Droknin's latest attack.

Droop lingers behind at the wereboar's camp, inspecting the donkey feast for any leftovers.

1. T'laren/Garrin/Droop 
2. Droknin
3. Keashirryl
4. Wereboar

Seeing that the barbarian suffered some damage already, Keashirryl decides not to neglect her healing duties any longer. Not wanting to get too close to the fight, she gets just within thirty feet to use channel divinity.

(Restoring Droknin to half of his HP maximum.)

Overwhelmed by the assault and pursuit, the Wereboar changes shape again... this time dropping to all fours.  His fists morph into pig's feet and more thick, dark hair sprouts from his body.  He transforms into an unusually large razorback hog.  He then runs away from Droknin again.  As a pig he is faster, and he runs 40' away from Droknin to the north.

[Droknin gets an AoO again if he chooses.]

1. T'laren/Garrin/Droop 
2. Droknin
3. Keashirryl
4. Wereboar

That's too far for Garrin to hit at this point, I believe so Garrin gives up the chase.

Droknin will let the wereboar go. “Perhaps, we can continue this conversation at another opportunity!!”

If the beast is gone, T'laren will regroup with the others, giving a quick search for any salvageable arrows, and collecting the heads and fletching of any that snapped.

Seeing the others halt, Keashirryl lets the beast go and returns to where they left Droop musing over the dead mule. Remembering that the stranger had a crossbow, she checks if there are any bolts left. She also turns over the remains of the cart, trying to ascertain what exactly happened. (Investigation if needed: 18  

"I don't suppose he left any survivors", she notes. 

Droknin makes sure that the ugly creature is truly gone. He goes back to camp to retrieve Mlinzi. He makes himself useful by helping the others however he can. He helps Keashirryl turn over the cart if necessary. “Now, that was fun!!” He quips to no one in particular.

The hog runs off, squealing and dripping blood, to the north.  It disappears into the distance.  As Droknin watches it flee, he spots, for the first time, a thin band of green on the horizon - the Neverwinter Wood. 

The party slowly gathers back at the wereboar's hollow.  Droop is already reheating a piece of donkey over the fire, seasoning it with a little smeared mud.

T'laren searches for his spent arrows.  [Make a survival check, please.]

Keashirryl turns a critical eye to the wagon and the 'score' the wereboar had boasted about.  It is a simple donkey or pony cart, with a pair of bench seats and an underslung axle.  It looks in good repair overall but one of the wheels is cracked.  Under the first seat is a traveling cloak, a bedroll, a leather book with a clasp and a tinderbox.  In the back of the cart is a wooden chest, held closed with an elaborate lock.  Turning down the entire cart, you are unable to spot a key.  Of the cart's owner, there is little sign.  There are a few dark spots on the front bench seat that are probably blood.  Not enough by itself to suggest a fatal wound, but probably enough to confirm this cart was taken by violence.

T'laren Survival: 15

Garrin will sit and read the book aloud, hoping for a good story to set everyone at ease

T'laren, you recover all three of the arrows you fired at the wereboar.

Garrin, while you open the book looking for a good story or perhaps some dirty limericks, what you find instead is a mage's spellbook.

"Rejoice friends, we are closer to our destination, for we are not far from the Neverwinter Wood." He says jovially, like they are just having a walk through a park. He will leave the Cleric with the brainy stuff, and he goes to check on the others. From time to time, she scans the area outside if the hog tries to return. After retrieving Mlinzi. "Does anyone care for this human magical weapon?"

(If no one has any use for Talon, Droknin will take it.)

Garrin groans in disappointment. "A spellbook. What a waste of time, all that studying and such. Magic needs only the will to grab hold of it... After your elbow gets jostled by a breath of magic, anyway." 

((Drok is the only one who can make good use of it.))

"Don't you see how I'm vibrating with happiness?" Keashirryl teases Droknin in a flat voice.

"Also, if anyone cares for this chest, by all means, go ahead and try to open it. I have no ways of doing that", she gestures towards the container. "Though there is a chance the owner isn't quite dead yet."

When she hears Garrin found a spellbook, she turns sharply towards him. Her eyes remain locked on the object for a while, before she can verbalise anything. "Useless or not, it's much nicer than mine was. Doesn't seem to fall apart at the binding, and the lack of mold is just remarkable" she says, trying to shake off the habitual desire to pour through the book.

She finds herself wondering what it would have been like if she did reach for magic like Garrin described. Would she have gained the same powers? Most importantly, would she have turned towards religion even so, or never take notice of something that didn't serve her needs?

"Are we ready to move on, or do we need a moment to rest?", she asks with uncharacteristic eagerness, trying to escape the uncomfortable thoughts.

"I don't have much skill at locks, but if it's wooden, I can get through it without damaging the contents. I would wager the owner is probably dead, at the tusks of the little piggy that Droknin ran off."