With the introductions over Shepard and company followed Orian through the arena's entrance; leaving a pilot and Ymir to unpack. Waiting outside was a minefield of stalls selling overpriced trinkets and carnival food; variants of popcorn and funnel cake sold alongside stuffed Rosetta dolls and Asari cruiser flags. Hundreds of Raloi shuffled around on either side of a fenced path intent on getting a glimpse of the space-men. She was now positive the larger individuals following were cameramen as each time they turned the Fenris mech sized apparatus to the crowd they waved and chittered excitedly.
"Please forgive the common folk; awe and wonder has sapped them of etiquette." Another avian dressed in a type of blouse and skirt carrying an old fashioned clipboard with real paper strutted up to the first.
"This is my assistant Sezren Aneer. She has also been our invaluable event coordinator as of late."
"Thank you Sir. A pleasure to make your acquaintance Starlings." They gave a curt nod before falling inline beside the group's chaperone.
After a few minutes of walking the tour pauses at a break in the fence. Orian beckons them into a large wooden gazebo. Inside are a number of tables and shelves filled with sculptures. Metal, wood, clay and stone all depicting people in states of action. Shep never cared much about art, but several members of her party looked rather impressed. From behind a curtain stepped a rather tall Raloi in vibrant red silks. Bright feathers indicating it was a male as Shepard was learning. It moved closer to the small bird folk and gave a flourished bow extending all four arms.
"I thought the Raloi were the only sentient species on Turvess?" Miranda balked clearly upset at the lack of information.
"We are Ms. Lawson. Cephes Nanir is the Ragnal delegate. He is a member of the Crafter caste. All members born of which have an additional set of longer arms growing from their shoulders." Orian gives a nod to the larger man who goes to the room's center and sits at a table filled with metal wires.
One long gaze and the six limbed craftsman was a blur of motion. Each hand directed by muscle memory alone grabbed different metal strands and folded them into some unknown masterwork. "We possess three unique forms. Crafters like Cephes are gifted with all they require to change the world. Virtually every home, invention, garment or delicacy can be traced to one of theirs."
Filaments wound together in stunning speed and precision. Copper, iron, aluminium and tin intertwined as a recognizable form emerges. "Our other somewhat less impressive castes are the Warriors; whom are large, heavily muscled and have superior reaction times. Lastly are the Runners to whom I belong. We scurry here and there learning and gathering what bountiful knowledge and resources can be found on our world."
One more twist and a snip of the pliers. On the table, dodging some phantom attack was a wire-frame Krogan with their shotgun out belting a deadly retort. Shepard had seen this exact action taken by Wrex several times during their many encounters with hostile forces. It's head-plate even had the same rusty color. Shep felt a pang of loss knowing her friend was so far away, no doubt blasting baddies and living life to the fullest.
"As you can see Cephes Nanir is not only a clan official, but an artist in his own right." Standing from his seat the man walked around and handed the foot tall statue to Erane. He warbled something to the awestruck girl before looking to their host. "He says that she has the eyes of a fellow craftsman, and hoped she can return the favor someday."
Once again on the move everyone filed down the path leading to Cloudreach's city limits. At a mountain's base sat an oversized ironworks factory occasionally puffing black smoke. Clanks, whirs and the shower of spark sounded at a steady rhythm. A multitude of natives garbed in thick leathers and dark face masks, many of whom bore seared plumage, toiled away with hammers and tongs. Melted sugar and roasted corn gave way to burning wood and molten iron.
"This is the royal forge. Any metal component created in Cloudreach came from one of its many workshops." Orian guided them through a maze of catwalks and refineries to a field of scrap. Not far off a manually operated claw crane dropped a handful into the waiting trough car of a minecart like contraption. "The Capitol has no quarries of its own. Therefore our cargo ships ferry in scrap from all clan countries. We proudly hold the title of a recycled materials only factory."
Evast raun politely raised his hand to gain the avian's attention. "How does the city manage to afford such an extensive program?" It was a good question. Even Shepard knew recycling made very little money.
"Haulers are reimbursed as part of global taxation while the forge workers and repairmen are paid by the companies and individuals that hire them to manufacture essential parts and pieces." The Raloi chirped, clearly glad that his well memorized answers would be of use.
"It's not half bad for Vukoma construction!" Out of a furnace housing jogged a short stocky bird wearing a headset. Her dusky blue feathers and gold overalls smeared with grease or oil. "Hiya Boss. How's the tour going?" Hands on hips, the peppy avian was all smiles.
"Everyone this is Moirah Magton; One of the foremost industrial experts on Turvess. While Vukoma has her on retainer for the year she is here to observe the proceedings for clan Dwara."
"With slight apprehension: Does this mean you're clan will not be taking part in the exchange of information and goods with the galactic community?" Dyeppa voiced Shepard's question.
"It just means nobody trusted me with diplomatic power-Omygosh!" Red headcrest puffed up in excitement Moirah rushed up to the Loki mechs fast enough to startle their quadrupedal owner and set the machines into guard stances. "Are those fully autonomous mechanoids? What kind of power source do they use? Do they move by a pulley or piston system?" The Elcor business woman staggered under a barrage of technical inquiries.
Shep fought hard to keep her laughter under wraps until another sad thought entered her mind. Tali showed the same enthusiasm upon boarding the Normandy her first time. The girl was always looking on the bright side of things, and saved Shepard's life on at least a dozen occasions with her techspurtise. All she asked for in return was a copy of some datadisks, but Shepard said no. The commander stated some obscure Systems Alliance code of conduct article and tore away something that may have been vital to the safety of the Migrant fleet like it was nothing. The Spectre's intestines felt like they were turning to stone as she realized the Quarian may have gotten hurt or worse looking for more disks after leaving the ship.
"Are you ill Commander?" Orian's words carried a heartfelt tone. His amber eyes held an alien sympathy Shepard would have once never noticed.
"I'm fine. Just remembering a friend I lost touch with."
"Perhaps when you are next able you should contact them." She gave a nod and looked back to her current Quarians who attempted to sate the avian engineer's hunger for information.