New Vance City

Buried in the smoke-choked depths of the Rust Belt, the Scrap Forge is where the Gear Rats turn metal into menace. It’s no ordinary factory—it’s a crucible of blood, rust, and roar. Massive smelters belch flame day and night, fed by a nonstop parade of scavenged refuse: twisted rebar, broken bots, gutted engine blocks. Every slab of scrap is melted, beaten, or bolted into brutal new forms—saw-shields, bone-splitters, and scrap-cored armor. The forge is Cog’s holy ground, where only the strong and the clever survive the shifts. Schematics are optional. Ingenuity is mandatory. Rats work in shifts of chaos, testing exo-limbs mid-combat and crafting rigs held together by hate and hexbolts. The Molten Pit, a furnace-ringed gladiator arena, tests not just weapons—but the worth of those who dare build them. Here, rust is religion. Fire is fate. And any Gear Rat who wants to rise must earn their scars with sweat, steel, or screams.

The Scrap Forge is an industrial nightmare nestled in a collapsed metro depot, transformed into a feral temple of metal and fire. The ceiling yawns wide with exposed girders tangled in wire, while chains clank from gantries hung with half-melted trophies. Rusted walkways zigzag through clouds of smoke and airborne slag. Enormous furnace mouths glow with hellish light, casting warped shadows on walls tagged with flame-scorched cogwheel graffiti. Lathes spin without guards, grinders spit showers of sparks into the air, and pneumatic presses slam down like the thunderous judgment of forgotten gods. Drones buzz on tangled flight paths, trailing weld sparks and oil leaks, while cyber-augmented Rats bark orders from scaffold perches. The floor is a toxic quilt of oil slicks, stray bolts, and crushed helmets. Smelt pits boil like angry ulcers, while overhead, a looping warchant howls through tin speakers. It smells of burnt circuitry, chemical rage, and ambition baked in steel.