Location: Outlands / Tir na Og / wandering

Now see, the tale of the cursed town of the Fir Bolg, now that’s a dark and twisty bit of chant that’s been circling ’round the planes for an age. When the Tuatha De Danann, the clan of Celtic powers, first came stomping into the Outlands looking for a new kip, they had a right dust-up with the Fir Bolg. It was a real fracas, all sound and fury, with the Morrigan’s ferocity and the Daghdha’s cunning just about tipping the scales.

The Fir Bolg were decimated in the Battle of Mag Turideah; that’s the one where Nuada’s hand got cut off by a firbolg champion named Sreng. The Morrigan made the most of the situation though, slaying the Fir Bolg king Eochaid—and that caused the rest of the clan of giants to rout, abandoning their burg of Balgatan, but not before cursing it and the Tuatha de Danann.

The Tuatha tried to raze the town to the ground, but every time they damaged a building, one of them was injured in the process. Whether that’s the curse it just bad luck its hard to say, but after Nuada nearly lost his other hand, the Tuatha de decided enough was enough and they’d just abandon the town instead, assuming it would slide out of Tir na Og by itself.

Now, this ruined burg of Balgatan, it’s a stubborn old bird, clinging to Tir na Og like a tick on a stallion—turns out it’s got a bit of the old magic in its bones. The town lies in ruins, sure, but it’s the kind of ruins that have more stories to tell than a bubber in a tavern after his third tankard. The streets are empty, the buildings are tumbledown, but there’s a feeling in the air, heavy as a lead weight – it’s a mix of sorrow, anger, and something like a warning.

It’s like the land of Tir na Og itself remembers the Fir Bolg, their struggles and their fall. The land won’t let the Tuatha De Danann, or any berk who wanders through, forget what happened. The shifting town is a monument, not just to the Fir Bolg, but to the cost of war, the price of victory, and the shadows that linger after the battle’s done and dusted.

Some cutter’s even whisper that the town’s more than just a pile of stones and old memories. They say that on certain nights, when the moon’s just right and the wind’s singing a mournful tune, you can see ghostly figures walking the streets, hear the echo of ancient songs, and the clang of spectral hammers on anvils. It’s like the town’s reliving its past glories and tragedies, unable to move on, and the Fir Bolg that died in the Battle of Mag Turideah never passed beyond the veil. Any bashers with the Sight can tell you that there’s something sinister about the place, as if there’s a dark and vengeful force lurking beneath the surface. But the ruined burg is canny—it seems to move around the Outlands by itself, always staying within the boundaries of Tir na Og, but keeping itself hidden from the Tuatha de. They might pretend not to care, but to a clan as proud as these bashers it’s got to really pike them off that they’re being outsmarted by a ruined village. And while they fail to be able to find and eliminate it, Balgatan serves as a spectral reminder of the Fir Bolg’s tragic tale – a town that, despite its desolation and the passage of time, refuses to be silenced or erased from the memory of the land.

Source: Jon Winter-Holt,

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