[The script that starts appearing on the page is neat and precise if a bit dark, the pressure being applied getting across extreme irritation which would undoubtedly be in the writer's voice if he were talking.]

Other worlds. Magic journals and gems. The Grand Line made more sense even on its craziest days. Even the Devil Fruits follow more logic than this whole mess.

Seeing as how finding one of these gems is the only way back and those idiots are more likely to sink my restaurant the longer they run it without me, I'm looking to sign on as a ship's cook. Sooner rather than later.

[And the writing stops as Zeff snaps the book closed and tucks it under one arm, hobbling along on his peg leg towards the market. He may as well scope out what's available so that way he doesn't have to waste quite so much time before his ship has to sail.]

[He's getting too old for this mess.]

[there is the sound of party noises. Music and cheering in the background and when Thatch speaks his voice is slurring all over the place.]

Lemme...

Lemme tell you somethin', listen close... listen really close.

When you got...when you got no home...you gotta make the best of it... Even if it means you can't find your pants cuz the women took 'em. They gave me some shorts though and it makes my ...my ass look great.

But more t..to the point... Enjoy...Enjoy your time even here without regrets cuz you never know...you never never know when there will be a knife in your back.

[a long sloshing sound as if he's chugging straight from the bottle and then, loudly]

Cheers, Marshall, you son of a bitch!

[Thatch is staggering around Deesuko Ballia in said shorts and looking very much the worse for wear]

Alright, Turner.

[Denzel hits the word 'Turner' with vengeance before continuing on with an accusing tone and sounds like he's pointing a finger. When Crocker gets to the word 'I' his voice turns rather ominous before exclaiming. ]

I know you’re the one behind this. And as soon as I - Mr. Denzel Crocker find you... I’M GIVING YOU AN F! And stealing your - FAIRY GODPARENTS!

And then wish myself back to the twenty-first century and then - RULE THE WORLD!

[This cues the maniacal laughter. There's a pause indicating an after-thought.]

Either that or wish myself out of Moby Dick.

[Action]

[Anyone on Isla Empieza will spot a man who is clearly out of place with the locals. From his white collar shirt down to his fancy dress shoes and tie. Not to mention a strange metal box that fits in his hand. He seems to be on the prowl for someone or something, which in all is probably answers. He's very clearly not amused about all of this as she gripes under his breath.]

Dear magical journal thing that I'm feeling slightly more ambivalent towards as of late even though your pages are continuously filled with useless drivel that I can't be bothered to read,

I recently acquired a broom.

It's not as good as my Nimbus back home, but it'll do.

If anyone on my crew needs me — ha — check the skies.

- Draco Malfoy

P.S. I also purchased some chocolate frogs but one of them seems to have gone missing. Do feel free to alert me if you hear any out of place ribbits on board, but really, they've usually only got one decent jump in them so he can't have gone far.

[audio/action]

[Asch has been stuck on this island for one night and he already hates it. It's not even a particularly nasty island, but this town is full of people who don't want anything to do with him-- and he doesn't want anything to do with them, either. Plus, when he asked about people dying, he got a door slammed in his face. Rude.

Having figured out that the journal is capable of both recorded and written communication, he's taking advantage of it while he lingers in the town square.]

Is there no one on this island who knows how to operate a boat? I have enough money to buy a small ship, but hiring crewmen is impossible. These people won't even take gold for it. This is a seaside community; having no one who will steer a boat makes no sense. They're avoidant on purpose.

[He hmphs a bit.]

Finding a company of competent people is going to be harder than I thought.

[ Anybody around Isla Empieza will find a super-short blond girl casually floating above the fountain, leafing through the journal for a moment. After a few moments, wherein she quickly grows bored of it, she begins to dictate to it. ]

What's the point of giving us a book to talk to each other? Can we trade this in for a cell phone instead? The book smells like saltwater.

[ She quickly changes subjects, though, and her bored attitude makes way for exuberance. ] Hellooo everybody! My name is Regina! I'm looking for the Pretty Cures. If you've seen them, bring them to me. I'm at, uh, the big fountain. [ ....Pause.... oh, right. ] Please.

If they're not here, then I need to get back quick. So somebody take me on their ship so I can find that whatchamacallit stone and get back, okay? Please! [ Hey, she remembered please that time!

And now, Regina waits. Surely, everybody would flock to her with offers to take her aboard their ships, right? Or better yet, her friends would have arrived with her! Yeah, that'd be best. Hopefully they'd come to her, though, then she wouldn't have to fly around and look for them.

...Yeeeah. ]

[If you're anywhere near the Empieza town square, you might come across a blond young man sitting on the edge of the fountain, examining his journal. Flipping through the pages, turning it nearly inside out, etc.

If you're not there, you'll hear the sound of paper rustling, as well as somewhat intelligible muttering as Guy accidentally activates the voice function.]

..do you operate this? I feel silly talk--

[Some unidentifiable sounds, then, much more clearly:]

Oh, here... Hello? I was told I can use this to communicate, but I've never seen any recording fontech like this before. Can anyone hear me?

[Ahem.] Anyway, the locals have been, ah...less than helpful in explaining where exactly I've ended up. I know the name of the town, but it's not one I recognize.

I guess...if anyone has any info, my name's Guy and you can contact me through the...this book.

[Preferably before he tries to take it apart.]

[Never has he felt more dumb in his life than looking at his journal and trying to believe that talking to it is going to let him talk to other people. Running a hand through his hair, he lets out an awful sigh. It's not true, he has felt dumber. Half of the things his brother's managed to drag him into in the past have been just as bad if not more so.

Whatever.

His tone's forced as he speaks to pages.]

I don't know if this is working, or if I'm looking like an idiot in the town square. [He's banking on idiot and is grateful Bolin's not here to witness it.]

My name's Mako, I'm from Republic City. If that even means anything to anyone here. The Piedra Roja is why everyone's on ships, right? Does anyone even know how big the thing is?

[Does anyone know how stupid he feels for talking to a book? Because he does, and it's climbing to the point where he just wants to slam it shut.]

Either way, yeah. Good luck to anyone finding it. Just wish us all home, okay?

[ Kosuiryo's found a nice place to sit on the edge of the fountain, her journal open, a fork in one hand and a pen in the other. She's smiling mirthfully, obviously very happy and perhaps a tad overexcited. She's been this way since she first woke up in town and found that she was not in her room, in her bed, in the Ryugujo, where she'd fallen asleep the other night. But to wake up on the Surface?

Something Wonderful.

She writes: ]

To my good hosts,

This child would like to give thanks for this wonderful chance you have given her. I never dreamed that such a wonderful thing could happen, but this chance I have been given is real as my father's throne!

I hope my good hosts do not mind if I remain on the Surface. I will do my best to help your efforts and if there is anything you need of me, ask, and I will do what I must to get it for you. You have the word of the Water Dragon Princess.

So I simply speak into the pages, hm? Oh, then maybe I should've rehearsed something before I opened it.

[A smooth, sultry voice speaks, and while there's an audible edge of annoyance to it, at the same time it sounds as if the speaker doesn't seem to be truly taking the situation for all it's worth. There's a lack of confusion present, the only tip that she may be a new arrival her inexperience with the provided journal.]

I've been told by numerous people here that I require a boat to return home, but that it won't be enough to just sail it. This isn't like any place I've seen, so that would make sense, but that would be where the sense ends. [A thoughtful pause.] I can't say that I enjoy being abducted, even if there's some kind of underlying purpose. If they'd have just asked nicely, then I may have said yes.

[It should be plainly obvious that Judith is a woman who speaks bluntly and to the point, the task taking importance and not her name, where she is, or how she came to be there.]

But I still have things to do back home, so I'd like to fulfill this request as quickly as possible.

[optional action: Judith is currently perched atop a ledge overlooking the pier, eyes downcast as she scans the journal in her hands. She isn't expecting to see her friends and companions, nor is she expecting anyone to hold her hand. All attempts at contacting Ba'ul have squashed any hope she's had of that possibility.

She simply sits, silently contemplating her next move, her spear perched across her lap should anyone appear dangerous. No one has yet, but she isn't willing to take the chance.]

[It's a voice recording, though it takes a few seconds for any sound to come through. There's a sigh and the voice is clearly that of an agitated 20-something male.]

Pirates? This isn't really my style. Someone is going to way too much trouble to pull one over me.

Man, what a nuisance. If you were going to kidnap me, at least have it make sense! Where am I! Aughh! And why the journal? This is entirely too much detail for someone's hollywood fantasies!

At least common pirate tropes still allow for your egregious hats.


[Philip's voice is very abruptly to Shotaro's left, muffled by his knuckle being set upon his lower lip.] And you're asking the wrong questions in the wrong place. The journal is for communication, it's hardly responsible for the kidnapping. As to where we are, it seems the town is named Isla Empieza, which seems to be some sort of play off the Spanish term empezar, meaning to start, open, or begin.

[There's a loud scoff.]

Those ratty, salty excuses for hats don't even come close to comparing to my hard-boiled hats of the trade, Philip. I--PHILIP!

[Oh good, you finally noticed him. He lifts his head away from his hand and splays the hand in something like a wave, grinning.] Yo, Shotaro.

HAAAAAAAAAAAA! What are you doing here!? How did they get us both!?

[The grin quirks at one corner and he chuckles for a moment.] I've already exhausted most resources to figure out what happened, and it seems the lore on the supposed perpetrator leads him to be quite a fearsome person. Though previous to now, and even given the situation, I have my doubts that this "Davy Jones" even really exists.

[There's another scoff.]

It's probably some small time crook taking on a name much bigger than they are. Aaaah, what a pain. I guess we have no choice but to take the case, Partner.

[ooc: Shotaro (countyoursins) in black and Philip (keyworddouble) in green! Shotaro has no idea what he's doing with the journal so feel free to laugh at him. They're both by the fountain so its open for action tagging!]