A boyishly young man and an ageless old man, with an uncanny resemblance between them, wander into the room carrying an immense stone block with a giant fountain pen embedded in it, set the entire contraption down, and wander off again. (Who is worthy to draw the Pen in the Stone?)

Natalia walks in, gazing in awe at the big box of things she has never seen before in the center of the room, and then knitting her brow when she looks up at the ceiling.
Taking a quill pen and dark green ink from a desk nearby, which seems the only thing in the room not messy or helter-skelter, she writes in dainty font upon the wall:
Natalia, daughter of Helaina, was here.

Celia skips into the room, dragging Zach behind her, and then when she notices the big box of junk on the floor, she rummages through until she finds a large bucket of glue, a paintbrush, and a glitter cannon. Handing the cannon to Zach, who looks on in amusement, she paints an unreadable message on the white wall with the white glue. Standing back, she motions to Zach and shouts, "Fire!"
Zach fires the glitter cannon, dousing the whole wall with confetti and sparkles, and when the glitter clears, a message is visible on the wall, where the glitter stuck to the glue:
CELIA AND ZACH WERE HERE!!!

A girl in a deep red cloak steps into the room and smiles at the glitter, wondering what it is made of. Removing a violin from some kind of holster on her back, she plays the sweetest, most powerful music anyone could imagine, expressing her happiness at the joyous event.
When she finishes, she takes an inkwell, dips her finger into it and writes in large letters on the wall opposite the glitter:
Hannah of the violin was here.

Three figures walk into the room. One is a tall man, with dark blond hair and piercing blue eyes. Another is also an adult; he wears armor and carries himself with a regal air. The third is a young man, no older than 18. His eyes are unusual, almost feline in appearance, and a vivid violet color.

Each of them sign.

The blond man steps forward, picking up a quill and a jar of blue ink.

Keallan Morogh was here on the third birthday of Holy Worlds.

The man who seems like royalty hesitantly makes his way forward.

Ingvar, son of Siothan, was here on the third birthday of Holy Worlds.

The boy moves silently to the desk and signs.

Terran Jencir, warrior of the Lycans, was here on the third birthday of Holy Worlds.

Diki walks in, glancing around with a dubious, withdrawn expression. "What do you want?"

Me: You were here. So sign your name on that big paper.

Diki: * tosses me a slightly angry glance * I cannot write.

Me: Right...sorry, I forgot. Here. * takes a pen and writes for him * Diki, son of an Yte Taalaqa, was present on the third birthday of HW.

*characters pile in in a confused jumble*

A young man with regal bearing takes a quill from a nearby table, and writes on the wall in neat, yet formal writing.

Corithazon Jadain, Imperes Regnant to the throne of Athulia.

Another young man, who, by his dark violet eyes and black hair, looks to be the older brother of the other, takes the quill and writes with quick, sure strokes.

Saen Jadain, Imperes Bellator and eldest child of Euthen III, imperiator of Athulia

A young woman, barely out of girlhood, claims the quill almost before he has finished. Her handwriting has a saucy tilt.

Sylve Jadain, imperias

The other girl takes up another quill from the table, and writes in the tiniest letters on the wall.

Nenith Jadain

She hands it to the young man with the dark green eyes beside her, and smiles shyly. He climbs up a ladder and writes somewhat lopsided on the ceiling.

Antreo Raseild, son of Heur II, king of Athulia

He hands the quill to his sister, who has waited patiently.

Atharielle Raseild

A man in a black business suit appears by the wall. Before anyone is more than aware of his presence he plunges his fingers through the paper into the gray brick behind it. He draws his fingers out, and, cut through paper and stone as if by a chisel, there are the words:
The Strongman was here.

A tall man in a thin, black uniform strides softly to the box, and writes on the floor:
Sirgil was here.

A man with dark skin enters carrying a suit of armor of darkened metal. He writes next to Sirgils name:
Ordon was here.

Then he assembles the suit of armor on the floor. It trembles slightly, there is a distant, metallic, howling sound, and wisps of white steam rise from within the visor. Ordon throws back the visor, reaches into the helmet, and draws out a piece of paper with this signature:
Houri was here.

A rather ghostly young man walks into the room and straight over to where Iri wrote his name. Taking a can of black spray paint, he writes over Iri's message: "KAI HAS BETTER PAINT THAN IRI"

A kitten follows a young girl into the room. With a pencil, she writes on the wall "Kitty and Klasina were here! <3 "

A young man followed by two dragons enters, and writes "Roel, Cat-Dragon, and Ionas were here" on the wall.

All characters make their exits.

Three boys enter, all between 14 and 18 years of age.

The first is the leader of the group, shortter than average, with sandy hair and eyes as blue as the sky. At his waist is girt a sword engraved with scrolling letters. Its edges burn with pale blue flame. Carefully, he draws the sword and carves a message on the floor:
Garaden, bearer of the Star Medallion and wielder of the Blue Flame was here.

The second boy is taller and leaner, with a kind face and tangled brown hair to match his thoughtful eyes. Followign the lead of his friend, he moves to the center of the room, kneels, and pulls out a knife. Below the first message he scratches his own:
Wencel of Teravall, companion of Garaden the Noble, will be wherever his dear friend is.

The third boy, the youngest of the group, bounds about in wild excitement, his eyes shining as he reads the many inscriptions.

"What a jolly place this is!" he cries exuberantly. "Fancy finding all these characters here."

Seeing his friends about to depart, he dashes to their messages, finding the can of spray paint left on the floor. After a few unsuccessful tries, during which he manages to paint himself with stripes, he manages to add his own note:
I was here but now I'm going!

He hurries after Garaden and Wencel, who are already through the door. As he leaves, his voice drifts back into the room, "Whose idea was that, anyway?"

Two older teenagers and an elderly woman walk in. They are dressed in remnants. The old woman has a walking stick.

The female teenager puts her hands on her hips and spins around, looking at all of the mess. "Well, I see they found lots of the lost colors, didn't they?" She looked at the old woman. "Now, where shall we sign?"

"Yah, hello, I do not know how to write." The male teenager glares at the girl.

"Fine, let them forget you." She smirks and takes one of the pens from the table, climbs a pillar to the WELCOME banner and signs 'Lady of the Blue Pool' in the corner. She hops down with satisfaction.

"That isn't your name!" The boy accuses.

"I thought you couldn't read?"

The old woman shakes her head and takes the pen from the girl, looking for a hidden spot to write. The boy looks at the girl, arches his eyebrows, and then walks over to the supplies table, selecting a chunk of clay. He rolls it into a ball, presses his thumb into the middle, and sticks it to a wall. "Ha-HAH."

The girl rolls her eyes and drags the old woman out of the room.

A crew of late characters burst in at the last minute. Their authoress watches half in amusement, half in a kind of dread.

Jimothy begins writing on a computer. Large printed letters appear on the wall.
Jimothy arrived and was confused.

Shawn picks a purple feather pen, cocks her head to one side, and neatly prints.
Shawn Henderson was here and survived the glitter up to this point.

The authoress wonders what this means. Next!

Lars grabs a pen, and half-awkwardly scrawls in his odd cursive.
Lars.

Anything else? No? Okay... * sighs * Be good, Jayson.

Jayson stands, chewing on a pencil. "What should I write? Oh!" Grabbing a tanding precariously on the box, he manages to get up into the rafters and begin printing.
Jayson Neil Lewis was definitely here. May glitter plague Iriviel Fairbrow as long as he lives. Yes, you.

The authoress tosses him a look. That was NOT being good! * hides grin and herds characters out *