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Warhammer 40K

Forge World

Metalica

A wholly industrialised forge world of endless machine-cities, whose Legio Metalica Titans march to war beneath skies black with foundry-smoke.

Astrography

AgripinaaAlaitocArmageddonBaalBaal SecundusBakkaBarbarusBiel-TanBor'kanCadiaCalibanCalthCatachanCharadonChemosChogorisColchisCommorraghCretaciaCypra MundiDal'ythDamnosDeimosDimmamarDulanEspandorFenrisGathalamorGraiaHonourumHydra CordatusHydraphurIaxInwitIyandenKar DuniashKonorKriegKronusLuciusLunaMacraggeMandragoraMarsMedrengardMedusaMetalicaNecromundaNocturneNostramoOlympiaOphelia VIIParmenioPavonisPhalanxPiscina IVProsperoRynn's WorldRyzaSa'ceaSaim-HannSanctuary 101SavlarScintillaSepheris SecundusSicarusSolemnaceSortiarius (the Planet of the Sorcerers)SothaStygies VIIITallarnTanithTarosTerraThe Eye of TerrorThe Plague PlanetThe RockTigrusTitanTsagualsaUllanorUlthwéValhallaVigilusVior'laVraksZhur

Metalica is a forge world of the Adeptus Mechanicus so utterly consumed by industry that no natural feature remains upon its surface. From pole to pole the planet is a single continent-spanning machine, a labyrinth of manufactorums, refineries and reactor-stacks where hab-serfs are born, labour and die without ever glimpsing open sky. The very air is a poison of scorched metal and chemical smog, breathed only through filtration-shrines and augmetic lungs.

The world is the seat of the Legio Metalica, one of the great Titan Legions, whose towering war-engines are known as the Iron Skulls. These god-machines stride from Metalica's launch-cradles to crush the Emperor's foes across the Segmentum Obscurus, and their forge-city has bled its finest tech-priests and moderati into countless crusades and campaigns of reconquest.

Metalica embodies the cold logic of the Machine Cult carried to its ultimate extreme: a whole planet reduced to a tool, its billions rendered into cogs of a greater mechanism. There is no beauty here save the terrible symmetry of production, no purpose but to feed the Imperial war-machine. Should its foundries ever fall silent, a hundred worlds would go undefended, and so Metalica grinds on, eternal and merciless.