An Ironkin worker of the Greater Thurian League is working on extracting some usable parts from a wrecked vehicle, using a las-beam cutter to slice the vehicle apart. The Ironkin notices you and turns to face you, his silvery dome-like head giving no hint at what the robotic Ironkin thinks of you. His voice is fittingly mechanical, spoken from a small microphone at the base of his head.

That's far enough. I am Urok-32 of the Greater Thurian League, and this scrap has already been claimed for the league. Perhaps I can direct you elsewhere, unless there is something else you want.