"What's this about a familial party page?” Angela asked, her eyebrows climbing as she looked at Mark. “Is that like a party menu?"

“First I’ve heard of it,” he said with a shrug. He looked at their parents. “You guys want to fill us in?”

“It’s something Eliza showed us,” Angela’s mom said. “It shows how everyone in the family is doing.”

That name was a new one. “Who's Eliza?” Angela asked.

“A ranger we happened across in the forest," her mom said. "It was an incredible stroke of luck—she’s the only reason we got here alive.”

“Ugh. Wish I could’ve had that happen,” Angela grumbled. She nudged Mark with her elbow. “What about you? Did you get to cakewalk with your own chaperone?”

Her dad chuckled. “Mark didn’t even have to walk. He showed up on top of a wagon with a nice family taking care of him.”

Mark’s jaw visibly clenched. “Yeah, dad. That’s exactly how it happened.”

Angela cringed. Her dad and Mark getting on each other’s nerves was nothing new. It seemed that moving to Arenia hadn’t changed that. Still… there was something harsh in her brother’s reaction.

Something happened, she thought.

Putting on her happy face to ward off any potential brother-dad confrontation that might be brewing, Angela brightly said, “Well, we’re here now! And I, for one, want to see what this familial party section is all about.” Summoning her Tome, Angela deftly grabbed the uppermost slate and stepped aside, letting the rest of the stack fall to the ground with a clanking thud.

She smiled inwardly. It seemed that if she had a clear idea of what she was looking for, it would generally be the top stone in the stack. That meant she could simply grab that one and ignore the rest, hopefully saving herself from throwing her back out one of these days.

Looking back down at the slate, Angela’s eyes began flicking through the contents as she searched for the new trove of information her parents had discovered, only to slowly become aware that a quiet had settled across the room. Looking up, she realized everyone was staring at her.

“What?” she asked.

“Do you even have to ask?” Mark said, gesturing to her Tome stone.

Heh. Tomestone.

“Oh, yeah. Right,” she said, scowling at the lump of rock in her hands. “When I first showed up, I thought it would be cool to have a tablet for all my stats. And by ‘tablet’ I mean iPad. Instead, I got this.” She waved the hunk of stone around. “In case you hadn’t noticed, whoever is in charge of our Tomes is kind of a dick.”

Both Mark and her dad nodded in solemn agreement, but her mom looked confused.

“I thought the messages have been quite friendly,” she said. “Even funny at times.”

Angela screwed up her face. “Seriously? Maybe that’s the case for you, but I got a guy who thinks pelting me in the head with rocks is funny.” Something occurred to her. “Wait, what did you guys get for Tomes?”

Books materialized in everyone’s hands.

“Diary,” her mom said, holding a white, rose-covered diary with a broken clasp.

“Seizure journal,” Mark said, raising a plain brown notebook.

“Accounting ledger,” her dad said, the simple book somehow managing to look boring despite materializing out of thin air.

Angela stared at them. “Books. You guys got actual books. That is shockingly unfair and I hate you all.”

“I’m sure there’s a logic to it,” Mark said, grinning.

“Yeah, right,” she muttered. She looked down at the slab in her hands, noticing that many entries were blocked off. “Do you guys have ‘permission not yet granted’ listed for everyone?”

“I have that too,” Mark said, a sentiment soon echoed by everyone else.

“How do we unlock it?”

Her mom frowned and tapped her lip. “Can’t I just give you permission to—Oh! There we go.”

Almost simultaneously with her mom’s exclamation, a space on Angela’s Tome turned into soft clay. Beside it was a note telling her to “kindly sign her name to grant Beth Sullivan Familial Party access.”

Angela grumbled under her breath about the polite tone of her mom’s Tome request, but went ahead and used a fingernail to sign for permission. After that, it was a simple process to give everyone else access, and a little trial-and-error even showed that they could revoke permission if they wished, or even limit what information was shared.

When all the permissions had been granted, Angela took a look at her newly updated slate:

FAMILIAL PARTY:

Jack Milsom (permission not yet granted)

Species: Human

Renown: Unknown

Base Stat Average: Unknown

Status: Normal

Beth Sullivan

Species: Human

Renown: Level 7 (unclassed)

Base Stat Average: 18.0

Status: Normal

Peter Sullivan

Species: Human

Renown: Level 6 (unclassed)

Base Stat Average: 17.6

Status: Normal

Angela Sullivan

Species: Human

Renown: Level 8 Druid

Base Stat Average: 18.8

Status: Normal

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Mark Sullivan

Species: Human

Renown: Level 10 மாற்றம்

Base Stat Average: 17.0

Status: Normal

Turkaletta Milsom-Sullivan (permission not yet granted)

Species: ERROR

Renown: Unknown

Base Stat Average: Unknown

Status: ERROR

“Whoah!” Angela said. “Good job there, mom. Broke 18 on your Base Stats? That’s kind of cool. And holy crap, Mark! You’re Level 10?”

“Yep,” he said with a grin. “What about you? How did you get your base stats up to 18.8?”

She gave him an “aw shucks” look. “Well, I wasn’t going to mention it, but—”

“Of course you were,” he said. “You were just looking for a spot to slip it into the conversation.”

“Eh, probably,” she said. “Still, good work, bro.” She high-fived Mark, then looked at the list again. “And dad, hey. Uh. You’re probably doing better than the turkey?”

“The turkey?” he asked.

“Yeah. ‘Turkaletta Milsom-Sullivan.’ That’s gotta be the turkey, right? Didn’t they say the turkey was part of the family now?”

“Ohhhh,” her mom and dad said in unison.

Her dad’s face scrunched up. “How is that thing still alive?”

“Maybe your status switches to ‘Error’ when you die?” Mark suggested.

“Wouldn’t ‘Dead’ be simpler?”

“Eh. ‘Dead’ in a fantasy world is a bit subjective,” Angela noted. “You could be dead, undead, trapped in some nether realm between life and death….”

“Some kind of summoned ancestor spirit?” Mark added. “That’s not quite undead when you think about it.”

“Good point,” she said. “Heck, for all we know, that status section is just for post-death status.”

“No, that’s not it,” her mom said, shaking her head. “When Eliza showed us how this all works, Mark’s status was ‘At Risk.’ Eliza was very concerned at the time, but clearly, it was a false alarm.”

Angela shot her brother a look. The idea that their Tomes were fallible didn’t sit right, and based on the subtle shake of his head, she was correct. He was hiding something.

“What do those symbols by Mark’s name mean?” her mom continued, oblivious to the exchange.

“Oh, that,” Mark said, stumbling over his words. “It’s, uhh….”

Angela sighed. Her brother was a terrible liar. Fortunately for him, he had a big sister to bail him out.

“Oh man, how did I not notice that!” she said with a huge laugh. “You are such a doofus, bro. Mom, it just means he’s been doing so many random things that the system doesn’t know how to categorize him. They’re making fun of him—like he’s glitching out. It’ll probably clear up once he gets his head on straight.” She finished with a punch to her brother’s shoulder. Had to sell the teasing sister routine, after all.

A rock pinged her between the eyes.

NEW GENERAL SKILL LEARNED!

Acting – Skill Level 5 (Tier-0)

Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art though talent, Romeo?

Tier-0 Bonus: Bonus? The audience should get a bonus for sitting through that drivel.

NEW WEAPONS SKILL LEARNED!

Fists – Skill Level 10 (Tier-I)

I’d want to fight you too if I’d paid for that performance.

Tier-I Bonus: Increased damage from punching attacks.

*Since these Skills predate your arrival in Arenia, they have been set at a level commensurate with the practical ability you already possess.

800 XP Earned (cumulative)

Usually, Angela’s mom would have picked up on Angela’s lousy attempt to cover for her brother. Fortunately, the whole family was distracted by Angela’s unusual form of Tome notification.

“Did you just get hit with a pebble?” her dad asked.

Angela cringed. “Noooo?”

“I’m pretty sure you did.”

She sighed and rubbed the sore spot on her head. “Yeah. That celestial dickhead delivers his messages this way. You’ve seen my Tome, so I guess it could be worse.”

“We get little pieces of paper,” Mark said, frowning. “Sometimes they only appear for a microsecond before disappearing, especially when a lot is going on.”

“Son of a…” she muttered, her mom’s glare stopping her from finishing the thought.

“Well, weird notifications aside, it’s good to have you back, kiddo,” her dad said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “You’re alive now, which I’m darn happy about. And if that lizard guy was right and reincarnations run in the family, maybe you’re not the only one with a few in their back pocket. Heck, I wouldn’t be surprised if Jack popped up in this living room tonight. And if he doesn’t, we’ll talk to Eliza tomorrow. See if she can have someone at the gate keep an eye out for him.

“For now, though, why don’t we get settled in as best we can. We have a big day tomorrow. Not to mention I’m sure Angela is itching to see the house.”

“Holy crap!” she said, slapping her forehead. “I hadn’t even thought about that!” Moving past her brother, Angela stepped out of the sitting room and into a hallway. There looked to be a kitchen at the far end of the hall, so she headed in that direction, passing a doorway on her right side…

And stopped dead in her tracks.

Taking a step back up the hall, she looked inside.

It was a bathroom.

Not some hole in the ground. Not a bucket. An honest-to-god bathroom. With running water and a toilet. And a tub. A goddamned bathtub.

She went inside and flushed the toilet just to see if it worked.

It did. No magic portals to the sun or anything. Just a regular ol’ flush.

“I’ll never take modern plumbing for granted again,” she said, her voice filled with awe.

“Pretty amazing, right?” Mark said from behind her. “Although, you know what this means, don’t you?”

“That I can use the can in winter without getting icicles on my butt?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Aaaand?”

Then it hit her. “Oh crap, we’re going to fight giant rats in a sewer, aren’t we?”

He nodded. “Although, to be honest, I’m more concerned about wading around in knee-deep feces. So long as the rats are smaller than in the woods, I’m good.”

Angela cocked her head. “How big are the rats in the woods?”

“They’re dire rats, and they’re huge. Like, St. Bernard huge. I got jumped by one five minutes after I landed.”

“Shit, bro. How did you escape?”

He chuckled. “Believe it or not, I managed to kill it. But it mauled the shit out of my leg.” He turned his calf towards her, revealing a vicious-looking scar that from just below his knee all the way to his Achilles.

“Dude!” she said, cringing at the grotesque scar. Then she frowned. “How is it healed already?”

“Long story, and not something I’ll repeat,” he said cryptically. “But what about you? Did they get erased by the respawn?”

She was somewhat confused by the question. “Did what get erased?”

“You know, all your cuts and bruises,” he said. “The rest of us were broken down messes by the time we got to Palmyre. You must have gotten some wounds along the way.”

“Ohhh,” she said, cringing. “Uh, yeah. They got… erased by the respawn?”

It was technically true. Probably.

“Annngie?” he said. “What are you hiding?”

“Err, I may have had a healing spell.”

“What!” Mark exclaimed. “Oh man, what I wouldn’t have given for that!”

“I needed it, dude! That leg injury of yours? Peanuts compared to my trip.”

“Pfft. Decapitation is quick.”

Instead of responding, Angela summoned her Tome and grabbed the appendices where it listed all of her injuries. Spinning it around to face her brother, she thrust it in his direction.

At first, he gave it only a cursory glance. Then he stopped.

His eyes went wide.

He skipped back to the start, this time reading it in detail. Finally, he looked up at her. “What did you do? Jump off a cliff?”

“Twice, actually,” she said. “Both times unintentionally. Unless you count going over a waterfall. In that case, I did it three times, but the third one was on purpose. I also fell out of a tree, got attacked by a deer, mauled by multiple animals… you see where this is going?”

He shook his head. “I’m starting to understand why you don’t want to be a druid.”

“And yet…” she said, gesturing to herself.

He grimaced. “Any way to change that?”

“No idea. But as far as I’m concerned, I am never leaving this city again. The animals can fend for themselves.”

“I’m sure the animals will be happy to hear that,” he noted wryly.

“What does that mean? I love animals.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So did Lenny in Of Mice and Men.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, crossing her arms and scowling.

He tilted his head down, as though looking at her over a pair of glasses.

For ages, Angela had wanted pets. And her parents supported her love of animals. For the first few years, at least. Until it became wildly apparent that for all her love of animals, she was really, really bad at taking care of them.

“Snickers and Crunchie,” he said.

“I was 6-years-old,” she said, scowling. “How was I supposed to know snakes eat lizards? Or that a snake could choke to death trying to eat a lizard?”

“Roly Poly.”

“He was a cat who liked to eat, and I fed him. That’s literally an owner’s job.”

“He liked to eat butter. You can’t feed sticks of butter to a cat. When he died, the vet said he had the arteries of a pack-a-day smoker.”

“I reject that allegation.”

“He told dad to quit smoking, then refused to believe that nobody in the house smoked.”

“Actually, that does ring a bell.”

“Sergeant Peepers,” Mark said, invoking the name of Angela’s gerbil, tragically lost in a treadmill accident.

“That one wasn’t my fault! Everyone gives rodents running wheels!”

“Does everyone’s rodent voluntarily embrace death rather than live in your care?”

“Now you’re anthropomorphizing,” she groused.

“There’s my sis!” he said. “Losing an argument? Drown ’em in big words.”

“Oh, shut up,” she muttered.

“I couldn’t resist,” he said, grinning. For a moment. Then his mood changed, going sombre. “Honestly, I think I’m just teasing you so I can pretend things are normal. Which they’re not. They’re so, so not normal.”

The major shift in his tone set off alarm bells in Angela’s mind. “Dude, are you okay?”

He looked her in the eyes, then glanced down the hall towards their parents. He placed a finger over his lips.

“Anyway, that’s the kitchen,” he said, gesturing down the hallway. “There’s a yard out back with a pretty good view of the river. Or there would be if you could see through that brick wall at the back of the garden—Mom’s already itching to knock it down. You can see the view from upstairs, though.”

“Mom already planning renos?” Angela said, playing along.

“Of course she is. And it is a nice view. Come on, I’ll show you.” He led her towards the stairs, stopping only to grab a weird-looking staff from where it leaned against the wall.

She stopped, momentarily thrown off-kilter. There was something… odd about the staff. Like it itched her brain when she looked at it.

Her eyebrows pursed together as she continued on her brother’s heels. Whatever was going on, that staff was part of the equation.