Jack sighed, a sigh that was more of a groan that a sigh, and ran his callused fingers over his weathered face. What the hell was he going to do now? Elementals… he racked his brain, picking through memories of drunken nights spent in dark corners of pubs listening to sailor's tales, memories of fellow jailmates passing the time telling stories, memories of anything he may have ever heard about Elementals! For a pirate, Jack was not a very superstitious man, a surprising fact considering his past experience. He took most of these stories with a grain of salt from his beloved sea, the sea which no story could frighten him away from.

Elementals, though. The mention alone was enough to scare a pirate right out of his boots. And now they were after him, Jack, and why? Oh, right. Because he was Captain Jack Sparrow, and if anyone had ever let him finish his introduction, they would know that Captain Jack Sparrow had the worst luck of anyone in the Spanish Main, anyone in the Caribbean, anyone in the whole world. He brought his fist down on the table, making a hollow thump and rocking the dim candle back and forth. He returned to his papers, smoothing the curled parchment and concentrating on deciphering the words of the legends through years of grime, other languages, water stains, and some menacing dark marks that looked horribly like blood. He had had to look through all of his papers, through the many chests of documents and scraps of things he found important to find what he was looking for. There were very few written stories of Elementals, because they were so intimidating and so beyond the reach of believability, but Jack had encountered these forms in a tavern on some remote island, Cayman or St. Martin perhaps, where few pirates came for very long. Jack himself had never been back, as the mosquitoes had given him a rather nasty disease that he hadn't ever wished to contract again, but before leaving he had struck up a rather inebriated conversation with a Haitian escaped slave, raving with the yellow jack fever, who had pressed the documents into his hands and informed him of the dangers of angering the highest of the heathen gods. He spoke volumes of the punishments, curses, illnesses they might inflict upon you. Er, at least Jack had thought it had been yellow jack…

Elementals, steal your soul, rot for eternity, etcetera… Jack read.

"The elementals will stop at nothing until your debt is repaid or they have your soul."

How do you repay your debt! Jack thought.

"It is nigh impossible to pay your debt, as these forces of evil do not allow your fee to be seen."

Oh, wonderful.

Wait…

"However, one man possesses the ability to obtain this information. Nero DeMisu, a London native sent to discover new lands and riches was intercepted along the way by unknown pirates and discovered to have the gift of godsight. DeMisu is the key to salvation. DeMisu is currently said to reside in the pirate kingdom of Libertaria-"

Jack choked. "LIbertaria?" he murmured aloud. "Impossible…impossible. It doesn't exist…it's a legend…impossible…"

Jack leapt up and dashed to the small chest in the corner of his cabin and threw it open, digging around for-

Ah. The compass. Jack took the Isle de Muerta compass, gripped the extension, and twisted hard. After a few struggling moments, it spun off, just like the lid of Jack's favorite spicy Jamaican pickles. Gazing into the opening it left, Jack laughed out loud. Of course, he thought. How did I ever miss it?

"Mr. Gibbs!" he called. "Let's see if we can't make Port Royal by sunrise."