"Absolutely. The area's big, though, we should do a further pass after we deliver these skritt."

She nods. "Sounds good." Her mouth quirks. "Valued bodyguard."

"Let's go, then, boss."

"Let's," she agrees. "Though since I'm not gliding with you, I'm not really holding you back here. You can just go glide. I'll be down here regardless."

"I suppose. But I would miss you.—and we should perhaps not flirt while saving skritt lives."

    "Boing boing heeee," says one of the bandaged skritt, slightly out of it.

Snort.

"No, probably not. Off you go, I'll finish up here while you're checking around, see who can and can't walk and whatnot." She makes a little shooing motion.

Off he goes!

He's such a good adventuring boyfriend. ... Eeee, she can use that word to describe him, they're dating, he likes her so much that she's his girlfriend.

She attends to the skritt, but maybe while badly disguising a smile that is... definitely somewhere on the road to being goofy.

He returns! And they proceed to continue helping skritt here and there.

Vetareh might notice they get... significantly smarter when they're closer to their camp. In particular, they seem to communicate with each other really fast and be able to remember more things, and their speech becomes more complex and organised.

That's interesting. Something to do with collective communication based intelligence? At some point she'll probably have to sit down and learn about all of the various species in Tyria. She is getting the impression that modern society is a lot more intermingled than what she's used to, and she'd really rather not trip into some kind of complicated societal issue.

Anyway, that's both destroyers fought and skritt saved. How do they go about arming them?

The skritt camp and a bunch of mini-camps spread out around the area have various scrap metal parts fashioned into something resembling weapons. They seem to be used enough to that.

Ah. Okay then. They can just retrieve those and hand them to various skritt, then.

... Are they done now, do they count as friends of the skritt and can they please move on with saving the island from exploding?

Perhaps.

"We've done what you asked," James says to the firstish mate. "Are we allowed to pass yet?"

    "Good! Yes, good! Skritt are safer, stronger! Come in, come in! Don't break anything."

"Let's go, my princess."

    ("Boing boing heeeeeee hehe heeeeee," calls the injured skritt from a cot just outside.)

"Yes," she agrees, wincing a little. Yes, that one injured skritt. Boing boing. Very observant of you, gold star.

Into the li'l cabin they go! It has a clutter of shinies and random junk and there, in the middle, propped against the tent's pole, is indeed a dwarf head.

    "Well, are you just gonna stare at me slack-jawed, or is there something I can do for you?"

"—I'm sorry. I'd, uh. Never met a piece of a dwarf."

That... can't be healthy for him. Or comfortable. This might actually be the weirdest thing she's seen all day. Not the weirdest thing she's seen ever, she wandered around in the Mists and she's seen some shit, but the weirdest thing today. It beats the pirate rat things.

"Pleasure to meet you," she says, with a polite little curtsy. She bets someone who is in... the situation this stone dwarf is in... would appreciate courtesy. "I'm Vetareh, this is James Orland, we have noticed that the island is about to explode and heard you might be able to help with that."

"James, eh? The famous Commander? Well, yes, you've come to the right dwarf," he says. "There's a torrent of magical energy building up beneath these islands. Energy that feeds directly into the volcano. My brothers and I have been tending to it for years, using four contraptions to release the pressure and delay an eruption. Then Primordus and the blasted Destroyers turned up. Wrecked the machines, killed the other dwarves. Almost did me in too, but I'm still standing. In a manner of speaking."

"Can we fix and activate the machines?"

"The machines were built with us dwarves in mind and won't respond to anybody else. Unless... Ah! I've got it! Take my thumb!"

Blink.

"Your. Your thumb," she repeats, staring blankly.

"Yes. On the ground there. Use it to activate the machines. That's one upside to getting blown to bits—I'm partially portable. You may want to move quickly. It's been awhile since the machines were run. The islands don't have much time."

She opens her mouth, then closes it, and looks at the rubble on the ground. Ah. Yes. That one is certainly... thumb shaped.

Briefly, she considers whether or not she'd like to pick up the petrified limb of a person, and then looks at James and smiles winningly. Clearly this is a job for the boyfriend. Killing spiders, opening jars, and picking up gross things: all within typical boyfriend duties. This is clearly his territory.

James grins at her fondly and picks the thumb up. "Where are all these machines?" he asks.

    "Search me, they blew up all over the place. There's four of them."

"Thank you, Rock Face."

    "Rhoban, please," the dwarf grumbles.

"Thank you, Rhoban. Would you like us to, um, return your thumb once we're done?"

"Well, yes! Someone else might need it! But for now, off you go."