They stood outside Wally Grovel’s office. “Everyone clear with the plan?” Miles asked.

“We didn’t really have a plan,” Lorarona clarified. “Just a series of vague suggestions.”

“Fine,” Miles glowered. “Everyone clear with the vague suggestions?”

“I sure am!” Clancy piped up. “I’ve got my spells at the ready!”

“Then let’s do this!” Miles commanded. Noninja threw open the door; he and Miles stormed inside. The wight was sitting at his desk, scribbling on some paperwork that had long since faded away. He looked up with a start. “What the devil…?!”

With a great roar, Miles swung his axe down up on Wally’s head, nearly splitting him in two. The wight crumpled, causing Noninja’s katana to uselessly strike the shaft of Miles’ axe. Wally tried to strike Noninja, but only succeeded in pushing him back. A ray of positive energy fired from Clancy’s hand, striking the wight squarely and causing him to fall off his chair.

“Why…?!” Wally hissed as he lay on the floor.

“Nothing personal, Mr. Grovel,” Noninja told him. “Just checking the boxes.” He thrust his katana into the wight’s neck; he stopped moving immediately.

“Noninja!” Lorarona called out as she ran to him. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, brushing himself off. “I don’t know what a negative level feels like, but I don’t think I have one.”

“Trust me, you’ll know,” Clancy revealed. “It’s like someone drained the life out of you. Because that’s what it is.”

Lorarona perused the walls. “All three of these posters are from famous performances. And he kept them in glass frames. They’re definitely valuable.”

Noninja finished picking a lock on a strongbox he found in the desk, and opened it. “As are these. Good old gold pieces. Probably box-office receipts from long ago.” A further search of the room revealed nothing else of value. “Ready for the general manager?” Miles asked the group.

“Am I ever!” gushed Clancy. “My spells are at the ready!”

“How many more of those ‘disrupt undead’ spells do you have prepared?” Miles asked.

“Unlimited!” Clancy revealed. “They’re cantrips.” He turned to Noninja. “And I have one just for you…‘true strike’. You’ll get him on the first try.”

Noninja beamed. “Perfect! Let’s hit this!”

As they walked down the hallway, they passed four doors they hadn’t opened before. Looking through the decayed wood, they could see some derelict bathrooms. “Want to check those out?” Clancy asked.

“Ew,” Lorarona shuddered. “Probably just more oozes. Let’s do those last. If at all.”

The group agreed, and massed outside of the general manager’s office. Clancy touched Noninja’s shoulder; the glow was barely visible. “Send him home, buddy,” Clancy quipped.

Noninja threw open the door; as before, he and Miles stormed inside. But this time, the wight was standing there, facing them, longsword at the ready, looking imposing with his flamboyant, though tattered, aristocratic clothes – a ruffled blouse, scarf, feathered hat, jodhpurs, and pointed leather boots. “You may want to work on your stealth,” he sneered.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

With a flash, he swung at Noninja, missing him by inches. Miles swung at the wight, but lost his footing on the floor’s dusty surface, and almost fell. Noninja struck true, causing the wight to stagger back. Clancy’s ray of positive energy found its mark, knocking him back further.

“Your performance is canceled!” hissed the remains of Lord Reston Laplux as he thrust his longsword at Noninja, striking his chest; he yelped in pain. Miles brought his axe down upon the wight one more time; he fell to his knees, dropping his sword. Clancy’s ray of positive energy struck him again; he crumpled to the ground. With his last ounce of strength, Reston slapped Miles in the leg; he fell to the floor with a cry, feebly rolling away. “You’re demoted!” the wight hissed before he stopped moving.

“Miles!” Lorarona called out, rushing to his side. “Are you all right?” Miles didn’t answer; he just shivered uncontrollably. Lorarona knelt before him. “Miles?!”

Clancy walked up to him and perused him sanguinely. “I sure hope that’s not a negative level, but it sure looks like one.”

Miles gasped for air. “I’m…so weak…ye Gods…”

Lorarona tried to comfort him as Noninja and Clancy searched the room. The two framed posters mounted on the walls looked valuable, as did the golden statuette in the desk. They also grabbed the wight’s masterwork longsword, still in good condition despite its age.

Noninja nursed his wound. “OK, now I think we’re done for the day.”

Miles pulled himself to his feet. “Not quite yet.”

“What are you going to do?” Lorarona asked, sounding worried.

“It’s time to check the upstairs bathrooms, that’s what,” Miles growled, lifting the wight off the ground. “Time to check for oozes.”

The first bathroom had nothing of note; the medicine cabinet was empty. But when Noninja struck the toilet in the second bathroom, something black and slimy rose out of it. “That’s the one!” Miles gushed, slamming his load onto the seat, blocking the ooze momentarily. He followed that by quickly opening the medicine cabinet, grabbing two bottles and sprinting out, slamming the door behind him just as the ooze started to envelop the wight’s corpse.

He panted heavily as he displayed his find. “Two ‘cure light wounds’ potions!” he triumphed, handing them to Lorarona as he strode toward Wally’s office, returning with his corpse.

The third bathroom also had a slime mold in the toilet; as before, Miles blocked its ascent with the corpse, then raided the medicine cabinet. “Even better!” he revealed. “Two more ‘cure light wounds’ potions, and a ‘cure moderate wounds’ potion!”

“I never realized the theater was such a dangerous place,” Noninja quipped as he downed one of the ‘cure light wounds’ potions. His sword wound healed immediately.

“Well, this one certainly has been,” Clancy laughed. “Now let’s get out of here.” He winced in pain. “Hopefully these negative levels go away all by themselves,” he groused. “A ‘restoration’ spell would severely cut into our profits.”

They exchanged sad smiles as they gathered up their booty, staggered down the spiral staircase, and emerged into the afternoon air. There was little activity in the neighborhood, though the chaotic shantytown sprawled over the city park was still in full swing. They strolled away from it, down the side of the theater, and back to the front.

“Wow,” Clancy remarked, staring into the theater’s window. “Would you look at that.” The others joined him, and their eyes widened.

Their reflection revealed a pretty sorry sight. Their armor, so recently clean and new, was sliced up up and stained. Their equipment showed the effects of countless impacts with enemies and the occasional wall and floor. The looks in their eyes betrayed a deep weariness. They pondered this for a moment, then Lorarona snickered.

“It seems we’re no longer the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed newbies we once were,” she quipped, bringing forth a round of appreciative chuckles.

They suddenly realized they were surrounded by dark shadows. They whirled around to see several large, tough-looking men, dressed impeccably in dark suits. A thin one and burly one walked up to them, looking relaxed and confident.

“Well, look at what we have here,” remarked the thin one.

“Yous are coming with us,” commanded the burly one. “Boss wants to talk to you.”

They realized the other men had raised weapons, some of them crossbows, some of them swords, all trained on the team. The thin one smirked, then bowed mockingly to Lorarona.

“Won’t you and your friends do us the courtesy of joining us for a little get-together?” he asked, the politeness in his voice not completely masking his firm directness. “We have some catching up to do.”

Lorarona swallowed hard. “Sure,” she croaked. “We’d be delighted.”