Lat: ? Long:?

Island: ? Empieza Piedra Roja

Scurvey Dog? Marine? Cipher Pol? (circled)Nut Job?(circled)

(A handwritten copy of the poem found on the fountain)

Bananabeard: ?

Sprklychken: ?

[Boris will start this entry in a more serious tone for once.]

This Scurvy Dog and his answers.... I cannot seem to be fast enough to get my question in. For those who are faster to respond then me, might I ask of you to ask an question for me. I know that the question is of no importance to anyone but to those of Wonderland. I will find a way to pay anyone who does this for me back, somehow.

[Okay, a more lighter tone of voice.]

Noooow~, what is a cat is suppose to do in this world to have fun? One can only build and rebuild guns and tinker with the ship for only so much. It doesn't help that there is only one girl here. Hajime? Do you have any ideas? You seem like you are one of the few here that knows how to have some fun~ [Totally not meaning to make it sound more suggestive then it came out as.]

And oh Maribelle~ You enjoying yourself as of late~? [Totes trying to get an reaction out of her before shutting off his journal. Yuuuup.]

[There's a bit of a small thump as Natsuno leans against the wall and slides down to the floor, sitting there. He sounds a little breathless of all things.]

E.C....Sora... You have to... kill me. I can't stop...I want it.

[His breathing is ragged and there's the sound of a package opening, and a crunch as Natsuno takes a bite.]

Nobody come near me!

((OOC Note: Natsuno is having some serious cravings for blood. Beware, you may be bitten if you approach.))

Dear obviously magically possessed evil journal thing,

Father always told me not to write in cursed diaries like this. Actually, it was a pretty specific rule of his which suggests this can only end badly. Especially considering I've seen that this one writes back, and with exceptionally bad grammar, at that.

But I suppose it's not as though this entire situation could get any worse anyway because I DON'T HAVE A BLOODY CLUE WHERE I AM.

Evidently I'm to look at a fountain and get on a ship?? Which is stupid. All of this is stupid, honestly, whoever it was that slipped me a bad Portkey is being turned into a frog when I get home.

Why a ship, anyway? Surely brooms are much faster.

Muggles. The whole lot of them are clueless.

- Draco Malfoy

[The first sound anyone who notices his entry gets is the frantic sputtering of a man who just got dropped straight into a fountain from a dead sleep. He struggles for a moment at the surface before finally realizing he's in water shallow enough to stand in. The boy rests on his knees before hauling himself over the edge and flopping out on the ground like a fish.]

Guh! Ha!

[He fills his lungs enough to turn over and expel a bit more fountain-water.]

Fuck! What is...I...

[He frantically jumps to his feet as the change in scenery hits him. Where the hell is he? This is nowhere NEAR Japan. How did he go from that...that...place, to this?]

...Hello? Hello? Can someone tell me where I am? Anyone?

[His attention shifts to the opened journal lying on the side of the fountain, which he picks up to flip through. He talks to himself as he peruses the pages.]

Eh? Odd little book. Looks like it passed through a hell of a lot of hands. Every entry seems a little different.

[Well was going to look back to see if there were any questions worth asking Dog since I was Sunday and the "man" had so far never failed to make an appearance each week. Instead he was greeted to an explosion of new voices and handwriting asking where they were.]

Well I'm starting to think we were only the first wave. Can't say I'm happy more people have been roped into this wild goose chase.

So everyone if a guy by the name of Scurvy Dog writes on you journal about answering a question. Don't go blurting things out, and don't ask how to get home we already tried that one. Also don't talk back to him he's rather bad a taking verbal abuse.

Dunno why I put up with ye bastards. Really I don't. Dog has a bluster of a cold this week so no lip or I'll send you to Davy Jones meownself. Bedamned allergies. Give me an island w'out ragweed and I'll gi' ye treasure higher than your grandmother.

Weather

Bedamned if I know. Can't see a thing with this cold, so full of snot I am. Sneezed out a goober as big as me arm, and there's truth to that. Had heard tales of a swarm 'o man eatin ladybirds comin' in from th' Eastern seas but that's likely a rumor. Ugh, me achin' head.

News

Navy is pissed. Yuezhong is up in arms. Zombies in Port Chance where there warn't zombies afore. Tis either Davy Jones or ye brats, and if he's stirrin' it's in a different way. Ye'll pay for it in one way or th' other. If he don't see to that, I will.

Good spot 'o news, Tardle Island be appearin' in the South West startin the week o' the 13th and'll be afloat 'til 'bout Wednesday 'o that week. If anyone be knowin' where a shard may be, it be them. But good luck gettin' it out o them.

More seamonsters be spotted. Kraken ate two of Silverleg's fleet and he only got three ships. Damn beasties.


Now it be time fer questions. Shepherd crew is banned due to the insufferable brat. Flynn Rider be off the hook fer now. I have limited patience so watch yerselves or suffer the consequences.

[and not too long later]

Shepherd Crew be banned til March at the earliest and are lookin' fer a life ban, much like Ganandorf has since he's obviously too good fer the likes 'o me.

[At first it's just muttering]

"Get ye on a crew." Hmph. "Get ye on a crew."

[The voice gets louder.]

I'll do nothing of the sort! If I'm to sail these seas, it won't be as someone else's crewman! I'll be captain of my own ship and no less! Do you hear that?!

[He's hit his stride now and his voice is booming out of the pages of the journal.]

I am Motochika Chōsokabe, Sea Devil of the West, Conqueror of Shikoku, and the best damn pirate there is! I extend an invitation to those with nerves of steel and a thirst for treasure to join up under my flag to make this strange ocean ours! Whether I need to find a ship of my own or commandeer one already afloat, know that I will be captain. Who out there is man enough to join my crew?


[[ooc: So if you want to do action instead...there's a big guy with an eyepatch making grand speeches to his journal somewhere near the fountain.]]

[action:

Harry Flynn takes a few minutes (or the approximation of it -- like three hours) to really comprehend what's going on. He opens the book, hoping for a map or something... and sees the "greeting."

Weird? Yeah. But not any weirder than finding Shambala. Or the wish-granting stone there being tree sap. So, really, he handles it pretty well. Eventually. And even gets himself a drink in a tavern that night. He spends a lot of time before that at the fountain, especially.]

[written:

It's pretty simple, what he writes. First, he copies down the inscription on the fountain.]

Behold this ruby, Centuries old. Its power is great, True depths untold. What once was whole, Now in parts 'tis shattered. Having it all, Aye, that's what matters. Rebuild the gem And whatever ye wish will be. Whether wealth, good fortune, Mayhap the chance to flee. Strangers listen: Take heed, take care. Or be lost forever To Davy Jones' lair.

[Then, unaware that this isn't simply a journal others have handled before, he writes his own notes around the spaced out inscription copy.]

Red, fragments. Wish stone? Davy Jones. Sea floor, resting place of drowned sailors. Literal or figurative?

[audio:

So... Talk to the book, it's broadcast. Like a radio. Well, that's useful, at least.]

Get a crew, huh? [The British voice comes easily enough over the thing, belying the nerves he feels at all of this. What's important is to drink the ale (which tastes like piss, but it's alcohol, so he's not complaining to the barkeep's face) and pretend like this is totally normal.] Well, according to that bloody stereotype of a swashbuckler talking earlier, it sounds like we want to go southwest. Anyone heading that way and want someone whose business is treasure hunting? 'Cause I'm takin' offers.

 Hi. I'm Clementine. I wok up here and I have this jurnal with me. It is making lots of noses and it is a litle scarey. I have some kwestons.

1. How come my jurnal is riting itsef?

2. Wear are the wockers? I need to no know becose I want to be ready for them.

3. Their is riting in hear here that is not mine. Did some one loose their jurnal?

I don't know what to do. I am not in Savana any more.

-Clementine

There is one thing since arriving here that I wish I could do with these people.

Give them some soap and maybe a bucket of water. They really could do with a good bath... or two. Maybe more. The smell is quite overpowering and it's totally not cool.

That is either of an enchanted nature, or a tsukumogami; both of which are best dispatched early in this unknown scenario.

[There was a silver haired girl, though it was a bit hard to tell as her clothing was more masculine for the style, and a green haired ghost arguing near the fountain. Those who might be nearby will be hard pressed not to notice them. It seems their topic of debate was the very journal that was capturing their voices.]

Allow me to purify it with flame and protect ourselves from evil post haste!

Purify? You can't possibly mea-... Put that torch away this instant! You can't act so rashly, we still don't know what's going on!

[There was indeed fire in the first girl, Futo's hands.]

Which is why it is most important to nullify all potential threats, it speaks and writes independently, such actions are suspicious and will do us no good.

[And now over the journal one could hear a distinct buzzing. And in the town itself, it was obvious as to why as slivers of lighting began to streak around the other girl's arms.]

That is hardly a threat! If it wasn't for this book, its contents, and that Dog fellow, we'd have no idea where we even were! I won't allow you to destroy our only link to the reasoning of this realm, Mononobe no Futo!

And these people here, around us, are not a link to the reasonings of this realm and place? Where has your caution flown to? Has death rotted your sensibilities as our master's teacher's plaything has? Do not fight me on this Soga no Tojiko!

[As tempers seemed to flair up, so did the fire around Futo.]

[If they weren't already clearing the area, they definitely wanted to now. More lighting was jolting about. The pages, to those hearing the fight over the journals, were starting to singe and burn just from being near those two. It was way too hot to hold, even.]

Ha! You've forsaken your practicality for that coward's caution! Have at you!

[Hoo boy... here comes the explosion...]

It has never failed me in the past!

[And both fire and electricity collided in a massive release of magical energy, the sound was easily heard through the journal, and for blocks around. It was hard to say if what condition the girls were in however, as there was silence and dust and smoke lingering.]

[... and the pages of the journal soaking through with the fountain's water. And the sound of splashing.]

Now look what you've done! I'm sopping wet and you've ruined the only dress I have in this forsaken place!

[At least the journal was still in one piece...]

Perhaps if you had hold of your vile temper such things would not transpire.

(OOC: Tojiko is in green, Futo regular.)