Neverwinter took its name from the river beneath it—a river that refused to freeze. When the entire Sword Coast North lay locked in ice, this estuary alone kept flowing, no matter what.
The river cut straight through the heart of the city, running east to west and dividing Neverwinter into its southern and northern halves.
Cross it from the Chasm District in the south, and you returned to the northern side—the Three Towers District.
Three Towers Street lay at the very center of that district, right beside Three Towers Plaza.
This area was easily the most chaotic part of Neverwinter.
Decades ago, when orcs swept across the North, this place had been occupied for a time. Later, when the orcs were driven out and the Chasm was sealed, waves of laborers and refugees poured in. A contingent of arcane mages and alchemists followed.
People settled where they landed. One way or another, they made this place home.
In short, it was a mess. Alchemical experiments went wrong in the streets from time to time. Running into an orc or a goblin pulling a robbery was nothing unusual.
If you asked Victor whether he'd want to live here, the answer was obvious: absolutely not.
But Little Molly had no choice.
Her parents had left behind the Black Cat Apothecary, and it stood right here on Three Towers Street.
You wouldn't have the heart to see a kid like Molly left homeless, would you?
So now she was walking through a narrow alley—wide at ground level, but the second floor was choked by rough, orc-style wooden supports, leaving only a thin strip of sky overhead. There wasn't a soul in sight.
No matter how you looked at it, this was the perfect place for a mugging.
And indeed.
Victor was silently reviewing the description he himself had once written for this location. As a Dungeon Master, his greatest daily headache had always been finding battle maps for his players—sketching crude lines, adding a few sentences, and trusting them to fill in the rest with imagination.
He had never expected that a few throwaway lines would translate into something this detailed when rendered in reality.
So detailed, in fact, that even Molly heard the sound behind her—four Zhentarim assassins kicking over a clay jar by the roadside.
That jar was not something Victor had placed.
She didn't dare turn around. She pretended she hadn't heard anything—if you didn't hear it, it didn't exist—and simply quickened her pace, hoping to get out of the alley as fast as possible.
But how fast could a little girl carrying a coin purse, a backpack, and a cat perched on her head really go?
The footsteps behind her were unhurried. Whoever they were, they clearly weren't worried about her getting away.
Victor wasn't worried either.
Because aside from Molly, everyone present—including the cat—knew that the path ahead was already blocked.
[Zhentarim Thugs ×3][Zhentarim Rogue ×1]
CR… well, forget the Challenge Rating. All you needed to know was that this lineup was outrageously unfair to a child—and just right for an adventuring party.
Molly tightened her grip on the bag of coins and asked quietly in her mind, "Little Vee… can you look behind us? Are there people back there?"
Victor didn't even turn his head. "Yep. Four big guys. Definitely here to rob you, meow."
(;ﾟДﾟ)
The girl stiffened in terror. "What?! Then shouldn't we run?!"
The cat patted her head. "Relax. You can't outrun them. The way ahead is blocked."
Σ(っ°Д°)っ
Molly's eyes went wide. The coin purse slipped from her hand and hit the ground with a clatter, gold scattering everywhere.
She stared at the pile of junk blocking the alley ahead and forgot to maintain their telepathic link, shouting outright, "What?! You stupid cat—why didn't you tell me sooner?!"
If I told you earlier, how would I ever get to meet the adventurers?Victor was busy confirming the upcoming plot beats in his head. The rogue was supposed to speak first. What was the line again? He couldn't quite remember.
"Heh heh heh… why'd you stop walking, little girl? Don't you like moving?"
Behind her stood a skinny man with a ratlike face, sharp features, shifty eyes, and an all-around sinister air. He flipped a dagger casually in his hand and grinned—an ugly, unsettling smile. Molly hadn't even turned around yet, and she was already frozen stiff.
Back when Victor had written those descriptors, he'd been studying for entrance exams. He hadn't realized that stacking that many adjectives together could turn someone into an actual demon.
He really was… ugly as hell.
Victor had labeled this one: Alexis Dodd — ugly, but distinct.
The three men behind him were far more generic, like they'd been stamped out of the same mold. They looked like dockworkers, wearing oil-stained leather vests, sleeves rolled up to their elbows, thick muscles veined and bulging.
Those would be Big Shell, Dog-Bro, and Strong-but-Dumb—the three brothers.
Yes, he'd been watching Forged in Fire back then. For nameless monsters with no screen time, names were always random. Whatever popped up in a dream would do.
Molly sniffed, tears welling. "What do we do, kitty? Think of something, kitty!"
Victor patted her head soothingly. "It's fine, kid. Someone will come save you. They'll join the battle after one combat round."
"…What's a combat round?"
"It means that in six seconds, a party will show up at the intersection. Paladin, wizard, warlock, fighter, cleric. Three hits, five moves, and these guys will be on the ground."
Molly nodded vigorously. "Okay! But kitty… hasn't six seconds already passed?"
…Oh.
You're right.
Where are they?!
Dodd stepped forward, pulling back the hood of his black cloak. "You seem sensible enough. Kick the money bag over here. We're just short on drink money."
The three brutes stepped forward as well. "Drink money!"
"Not interested in a little runt like you."
"Not interested!"
Dodd stomped his foot and snapped back at them, "Damn it! I've told you—don't repeat the last three words before I finish!"
"Last three words!"
He covered his face. "Anyway. Hand over the money, and we'll let you go."
"Let you go!"
Molly believed him immediately. "Really? If I give you the money, you'll let me go?"
Dodd nodded solemnly. "Really. I swear it—on the names of your adventurer parents."
Molly said miserably, "But… that money's for compensating someone. A poor old man lost his son because of me. If he doesn't get the money, he'll be heartbroken."
"Not my problem."
The people who wrong you always understand your injustice better than you do—but Dodd had never imagined this kid would actually take his words seriously.
Seeing the negotiation fail, Molly asked Victor again, "Kitty… where are the people you talked about? Why aren't they here yet?"
Victor was sprawled on her head, completely frozen.
Yeah. Why aren't they here?I didn't change the plot. This should be the moment.The fight should almost be over by now. Dodd should be running. You're supposed to loot two potions of healing and fifteen gold, twenty-six silver, twenty-three copper off the three idiots.
So where are they?!
A gust of wind blew through the alley. Overhead, a crow perched on the beams, cawing loudly.
Shut up! I'm grilling here!
Victor hissed angrily at the bird. The crow relieved itself right in the middle of the alley, cawed again, and flew off.
Could it be that the combat round had to start first—that they'd only arrive after six seconds?
Oh. Right. Yes. That was it.
This scene existed to let the players play heroes and save the damsel, unlocking a quirky, troublesome potion-selling NPC. Without the "hero saves the girl" part, the heroes wouldn't show up.
Just like in stories—the guards are always late.
Victor relaxed at once. He patted Molly's head, suddenly all knightly. "So be it. Let's fight! For our gold!"
Molly was instantly inspired. "For our gold!"
"Use Fire Bolt on him."
"Okay!"
The girl deftly shrugged off her backpack. Her small hands moved in a blur, assembling a bizarre, trumpet-shaped gun in seconds.
She slapped a red potion into place, aimed at the three fat men and one skinny one staring in shock—
"Ignis!"
For a moment, Victor thought he saw a pale platinum die roll past her feet, tumbling across the ground before coming to rest with a symbol of two little cat paws facing up.
[Attack Roll: 1d20 + 5 = 7 — Miss]
The red flash erupting from the barrel made Dodd's heart leap into his throat. He hadn't expected this tiny thing to fight back at all—and for a split second, he froze.
Damn it—this is going to hurt!
What else could she do? Would she follow up? Would the alchemical flames cling like cursed fire?!
The orange-red firebolt streaked down the alley at terrifying speed. The air grew hot in an instant.
The reflection of flame filled Dodd's eyes, and in that moment, he truly glimpsed death—
—and then it flew straight out of the alley and struck the crow.
"Caw!"
The bird dropped dead.
As expected.
A miss.
At the intersection, aside from one extremely unlucky bird lying on the ground, there was nothing at all.
Just the wind, drifting quietly past.