Mag Tureah

The realm of Mag Tureah was an ancient underground
kingdom centered around a spectacularly
ornate iron fortress in the Feydark. In an odd parallel
to eladrin cities’ seamless blend of crystal tower and
native wood, Mag Tureah’s iron walls often abruptly
give way to stone arches and natural tunnels. No one
knows who (or what) built the fortress. Abandoned
for unknown reasons by its unnamed makers, Mag
Tureah lay empty for centuries. Fomorian after fomorian
attempted to seize this crucial strongpoint. All
were destroyed by whatever horrors stalked its mazelike
corridors—until the fomorian king Thrumbolg,
dubbed the First Lord, reached its dark heart. He
defeated its horrible guardians, and now his empire
expands inexorably from the iron towers out into the
Feydark, a black tumor spreading unseen beneath the
living green surface world.
On its own, the military stronghold of Mag Tureah
would be the great prize of the land. But Mag Tureah
has a special relationship with the mortal realm,
making it valuable beyond measure. It is honeycombed
with portals to the mortal world. What’s more,
although the Feydark sides of these portals all occur
within the boundaries of the fortress, the passages to
the mortal world are connected to dozens of locales
scattered over thousands of miles. Mag Tureah is a hub
offering access to every corner of the mortal realm.
On the mortal world, the portal sites often
appear as unremarkable ruins. Explorers walk
among shattered walls, marveling at the black
stones, never noticing as the starry night sky above
them is slowly replaced by onyx ceilings and glowing
gems. By the time the travelers realize they’ve
stumbled through a portal, it’s too late. They are
transported from a corridor on the surface of the
mortal world to a black, unmarked tunnel a mile
below the Feywild in the guts of Mag Tureah.
Escape is unheard of, and if they are captured by
the First Lord, death will be a blessing.
Retracing their steps rarely aids these unlucky interlopers—
the magic of Mag Tureah is unstable. Whatever
portal abandoned them to this lonely spot quickly dissipates.
It may reappear in an hour, or a day, or never.
It may change location, now accessed by a tunnel mere
yards away or on the other side of the Dark River cutting
through the center of the fortress. Although all
the portals of Mag Tureah connect to ruins on the
mortal world, they do not connect to the same ruins on
every trip. This fact is all that’s kept the First Lord from
launching an invasion force into the mortal realm.
Thrumbolg is working furiously to master the
unreliable portals of his fortress. To this end he has
kidnapped arcanists from multiple realms and put
them to work studying the phenomena. Several of
the lesser portals have been mapped, and each can
be used—with reasonable certainty—if one possesses
a complex guidebook filled with multidimensional
equations predicting the times, locations, and endpoints
of the portal in question. Only a few copies of
these guidebooks exist. They are stored in the vaults
and laboratories in the heart of the fortress. It would
seem suicidal to try to steal one, but the alternative is
to attempt to escape Mag Tureah the hard way.
No one can explain why Mag Tureah has these
properties, or why the portals are so unstable. Wizards
knowledgeable in the ways of the Far Realm
find disturbing similarities between these stuttering
conduits and the methods by which aberrations travel
the planes. Such theories put a different light on the
fortress’s initial abandonment. They also raise even
more distressing questions about the First Lord’s rule
over the fortress. What if he did not so much defeat
whatever lurked at the heart of Mag Tureah, but
instead bargained with it?

No fomorian bows to any other, but all grudgingly admit
the mightiest among them is the tyrant Thrumbolg, commonly
referred to as the Lord of Mag Tureah or the First
Lord. This elusive monster has built the largest fomorian
kingdom in the Feywild around the ancient iron fortress
from which he rules. The First Lord has forged unlikely
alliances with fey, mortals, and even beings from planes
best left unnamed. Although fomorian cooperation
is unheard of, Thrumbolg has twice managed to trick
other kings into marching with him against unsuspecting
eladrin cities. Then while the victors squabbled over
the conquest, his assassins moved in. The First Lord does
not overreach. He pillages his targets and retreats to the
safety of his monstrous cavern kingdom.
Most eladrin refuse to take the fomorians seriously as a
unified threat. Yet recently Lord Oran finds himself unable
to shake a nagging thought: the terrifying prospect that the
Lord of Mag Tureah is somehow, against all odds, sane.

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