A cantina stood to the side of the hallway; there was a bar with a few tall stools, plus some round tables with chairs. On either side of it were rooms for private parties, also with tables and chairs. All three had large bay windows with a view of the area outside the front of the theater.

Lorarona sat dejectedly on the floor as she pulled another ‘cure light wounds’ potion from her knapsack. “We’re going through a lot of these,” she groaned after quaffing it. “I know we have several, but I wonder if they’ll be enough.”

“I’ll say,” Miles replied. “This theater is a lot more deadly than I thought it’d be.” He looked nervously into the distance. “And we still haven’t dealt with the wight.”

“Or wights,” Noninja pointed out. “We don’t know what’s in the general manager’s office, but we can hazard a guess.”

They heard Clancy call out from inside the cantina. “Well, we’ve got a little breathing room now.” He rose up from behind the bar with a beaming smile, holding three vials. “These are all ‘cure medium wounds’ potions! They’re pretty old, but I checked them out; they haven’t lost their potency!” He put them on top of the bar and crouched again.

Lorarona smiled as she stood up. “I hope we don’t need them any time soon.” Her eyes darted nervously. “But we might.” She opened the purse of holding and stashed them inside.

Clancy rose again, holding five crystalline goblets. “Most of the glassware is mundane, but these are worth a fair amount. Might as well take them with us.”

“Why not,” Lorarona agreed, placing them in the purse of holding. “They’re going to waste here.”

A thorough search of the cantina and two adjacent rooms turned up nothing else of value. They walked to the far end of the hallway, finding a passage to the other balcony, as well as another stairway leading down, this one turning to the left.

“Do we want to search the balconies?” Miles asked.

“Not as long as there’s someone on the theater floor,” Noninja reminded.

Miles nodded as they all walked down the stairway into the lobby.

Two tall marble fountains, now dry, stood on either side. Marble tiles could be seen through recently-made trails on the floor. An abandoned snack-bar lay to the left, as did double-doors leading to the theater floor. On the near and far sides were bathrooms; the other stairway leading up could be seen on the far side. The ticket office was to the right, as were the doors leading outside to the front, and the huge timbers blocking the way.

Lorarona moped as she walked slowly across the floor. “Ye Gods, you guys…it’s so sad, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” asked Miles as he dodged a pile of debris. “It could be a lot worse.”

“No, I mean…” She trailed off for a moment. “Can’t you see its former splendor? Not just the tile floors and marble fountains…but the overall concept? This was a meeting place, somewhere patrons could socialize before enjoying the latest production.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Noninja looked around. “It just looks like a lobby to me.”

Lorarona shook her head. “You guys just don’t understand.” She sighed. “I really hope my comedy career perks up soon…adventuring is starting to get me down.”

Clancy smiled sadly. “It looked a lot more fun in dungeon-crawl magazines, didn’t it?”

“It really did,” she moaned. “There was a certain charm to it that’s sorely lacking in this campaign so far.” She stood in the middle of the lobby, arms akimbo, glancing around slowly. “Here, I feel like death pointlessly stalks me at every turn.”

“Ha ha!” someone suddenly yelled; it was followed immediately by a horn fanfare. Lorarona stared in horror as a figure swung from the ceiling on a rope, his legs extended forward, heading straight toward her.

She dove to the ground quickly; the figure missed her by mere inches. He let go of the rope and flipped through the air, landing on his feet and sliding a short distance as he drew his rapier. “Tally ho!” he bellowed, as another horn fanfare blared.

“What the devil?” Miles belted.

The figure turned to look at Miles, and sliced expertly through the air with his rapier. “The devil, you say?” he called out, as another horn fanfare punctuated his statement.

He stood in a beam of light shining through the ticket-booth window. His broad grin was missing several teeth; he wore the tattered remains of a dashing swashbuckler outfit. The wearer had tight leathery skin, sunken eyes, and an emaciated frame.

“More undead?” Noninja groused. “Isn’t there anyone alive in this place?”

The swashbuckler raised his arms in a threatening pose. “There’s about to be four less!” he proclaimed, as a chilling orchestral sting cut through the air.

Noninja looked around in confusion. “Where are all those sounds coming from?”

“They’re coming from something similar to ‘alarm’ spells,” Clancy revealed, holding his glowing hand aloft. “And there are a lot of them. Like, dozens.”

“You got that right, brainiac!” the figure exulted. “Enough to celebrate cutting you interlopers to ribbons!”

“Ye Gods!” Lorarona suddenly trilled. “I think that’s Count Erron of Del Gallo!” Her eyes gleamed. “He was one of the most famous swashbuckling actors of his time!”

“And I still am, milady,” Erron declared, bowing with an overly elaborate flourish. He looked down at his bedraggled state. “Despite recent setbacks.”

“Snap out of it, Lorarona!” Miles yelled. “That’s no longer Erron! That’s a zombie! There’s nothing left of the original Erron!”

Lorarona glared back. “Have some respect! He was one of the greats!” She turned back to Erron. “But you’ve been retired for, what, over a decade?”

“Not retired,” he corrected. “Fired! And looking for work! Which is what brought me here in the first place!” He waved his rapier in the air menacingly; another horn fanfare rang out. “But today, I will avenge that indignity…by defending my fortress!” He pointed his blade straight at her. “Have at you!”

Erron charged. Lorarona stood there, gaping at him, frozen in place.