Avery walks through the door into the store like absolutely nothing is wrong, bypassing the counter to head into the living space beyond. The Fighting McFightertons split off to go procure rations from a locale that hasn’t yet gotten around to blacklisting them, while the invaders decide to invade the privacy of the shop itself, going through all the goods and structural makeup of the building rather than following the human like lost puppies.

“Hey mom what’s for breakfast?” Avery questions into the back.

“I dunno, what are you making,” comes the reply, the human doing the speaking not making any indication that they acknowledge the original questioner’s intent.

“Eggs,” decides the necromancer, using a spark of magic to light a fire. She places a pan on top of the sudden heat source, and scrounges around the area for materials.

“Ooo, that sounds good,” replies the mother, the voice growing louder as she actually approaches, now that cooking duties have been firmly allocated.

“Too bad I’m only cooking for the people that came in with me,” snarks the daughter, frying four eggs at once.

“You ungrateful child, how dare you,” her mother deadpans, “and with my pan too.”

“I know, I must have been raised improperly or something,” Avery continues, using magic to flip the eggs instead of attempting to do so with physical ability.

“Do you have anything here that’s already edible?” asks the hungriest one.

“Are you volunteering to cook now?” demands Avery, glaring at the invader with the force of a kitchen wizard.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The interloper flees.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

The chamber Ham finds himself in is mostly an empty room. Columns hold the ceiling up from four equally spaced locations around the room, all before a large stone coffin which takes up the center of the room. Behind the coffin, two sets of curving stairways lead upward to an overhanging terrace with a podium upon it; from down below Ham was unable to see what was actually up there, but it probably wasn’t anything good.

At least now he knew what this place was. It was a mausoleum, which now made him a graverobber. He’d only done the breaking and entering part so far, but usually the law didn’t really make distinctions once the corpses are no longer undisturbed. Since he was already in for it, there was no reason not to go whole hog on the crime spree.

First though, he had to explore the whole tomb. There were plenty of examples of tomb raiders who got distracted trying to pry the gems out of a statue, only to be devoured by the zombie they had failed to dispatch before starting to loot the place.

On either side of him, Ham could see that there were two closed doors, likely as unsecured as the door he had originally broken down. After he finished checking this chamber, he’d flip his trusty decision maker and see which one he’d take.

Actually, he’d do that now. Left.

Kicking the door, Ham immediately regrets his decision.

Instead, he heals his foot and swings his pick at the stone. It doesn’t move.

Moments later, he notices the handle.

Pulling that handle, the door opens fairly easily, revealing a bird bath type of object full of blue liquid, and another split in the path. The handy coin decides that right is the right choice, and, not questioning the wisdom of the random chance, Ham follows the advice and goes down the rightward path. It turns to the left and right again, but not simultaneously, allowing for a single unbroken, if turning, path forward.

The route terminates in a circular chamber, a single coffin spread lengthwise across the center of the room.

As this was completely pointless, Ham turns around to go the other way.