[It's the middle of the night and do you know where your local neighborhood Ren is?

Well, you may not know where she is, but her voice comes across the iStone loud and clear. She's clearly undisturbed by the time and ready to pose an incredibly important question to anyone who might be (unfortunately) listening right now-]

Do you want to hear a story?

[Who's she talking to??? Who knows!! What's the story gonna be about?? A whole ass mystery. Why's she not asleep? Evil never sleeps. Call Kravitz with ur complaints. ]

[The sound of rushing waves is not something Guzma expected to hear as he slowly came into consciousness. For a moment, even through the haze of his still waking mind, he almost expects to have come home, back to Alola, but the blazing sun above, the hot sand at his back, and the cool lick of clear seawater at his feet tells him otherwise. It's too quiet to be anywhere in Alola... Tourist line the beaches even in the early hours - exercising, walking, enjoying the stunning views of the rising sun...

This is different.

Yet...familiar.

Rolling over to his side, Guzma picks himself up, and isn't at all surprised to find a backpack with his name etched into it. Haha...well now. Guess this place still had some need of him. He searches not the backpack, but first his pockets, and spits a curse all over again. Two...just two. Of course he wouldn't be lucky enough to keep the third, like in Havenwell. Not here. Nothing here ever comes easy. He'll see who was kept and who was left behind in due time, but he knows the weight of Golisopod's pokeball, it's always with him. His partner through thick and thin....inseparable through everything the multiverse throws at them. Hah.

He dusts the sand out of his hair and clothes, sighing as he shoulders the bag and picks out the familiar stone, giving it a tap with his finger before he clicks his tongue. What time is it? Who the hell knows? Guzma doesn't give a damn - he's been woken up by this thing time and time again, so it's high time he repaid the favor.]

Yo, yo, yo - it's ya boy. Guess me n' them islands not done our song and dance, yeah? Roll call, public of Enso - chime in what who's still living the ding dang dream.

[And as he walks, beelining for the mana pool to head to his old islet home (and evict anyone who may have taken up residence), he's keeping an eye out for...certain people.]

Hey.

[For those who have heard him speak before, Michael's voice sounds a little strained. He's trying his best to hold it together, but he's having several new experiences right now and liking precisely none of them.]

Quick question - is the volcanic ash having any weird effects on anyone other than the kid thing? Like, say, the feeling that your physical form is starting to collapse in on itself, crumbling into the yawning void at the center of your being? Just curious!

[For anyone who happens to be on Islet 5, Michael is just sort of sitting on the ground right in the middle of the beach. He did not intend to be doing this, but things happened.]

Greetings. I am Toriel. I am with a man called Tim. We are in the Roaka village.

There has been a volcanic eruption, and we seem to have lost a fair amount of our number, especially children. We are looking for two children known as Chara and Frisk, as well as children named Ren and Chip... but there are others among us who are missing. We need to know how many there are. If you have located them or seen them recently, or if you are yourself lost and can hear this message, or if you know that someone you know is missing, please respond as soon as you are able.

Thank you.