#western gate

[z2z-gaming-and-random-art-ai]

The Witcher 3 Wild Hunt - Game World Ambience - The Western Gate Across ...

Immerse yourself in the peaceful ambiance of Oxenfurt, with a view of the Western Gate from across the harbour. The gentle lapping of water and the soft breeze that sweeps across the harbour, and the fast changing weather of the Velen region from calm to rain and thunderstorms erupting over the city 🌅⚔️🌊🌫️

Let this serene setting transport you into the world of Geralt of Rivia, as the tranquil waters and harbour sounds invite relaxation. Perfect for study, meditation, or quiet escape, this iconic location's atmosphere offers a gentle respite and deep immersion into the realm of The Witcher.

For other game world ambience videos check out this playlist https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFJOZYl1h1CFo5LyAEvdIcP4syymQaI50

[hwathwugu]

A classic western tale

[europeposts]

Western City Gate, Belgrade, Serbia: The Western City Gate, also known as the Genex Tower is a 36-story skyscraper in Belgrade, Serbia, which was designed in 1977 by Mihajlo Mitrović in the brutalist style. It is formed by two towers connected with a two-story bridge and revolving restaurant at the top. It is 117 m tall. Wikipedia

[dreorcaul]

did a bunch of horse studies! GETTING closer to understanding them! first set is shadowheart and lae'zel in the western au @ichiro-artosaki and @dustybones created! second set is my ocs mina and drasil cus I REALIZED they will NEED A HORSE in the sequel of my comic cold sweat OOF! there will be more horse studies!

[backroad-life]

Credit: Backroad-life

[bleubiesgames]

galemancers tap in

[emaadsidiki]

Fort Baker Pier & The Golden Gate 🎣🎏

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

Anna Lea Merritt (American, 1844-1930) The watchers of the straight gate, 1894

"Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat: because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it" (Matthew 7:13-14). -The Bible

[y-rhywbeth2]

Previous mini rant brought on by me trying to make sense of how a Bhaalspawn can carry a divine essence, be stripped of that divine essence, and still be tainted by Bhaal but no longer have his divine essence or qualify as a Bhaalspawn anymore.

The definition of Bhaalspawn is a bit odd. The qualifier seems to be that you have a fragment (of varying size) of Bhaal himself hitching a ride within you, latching onto your soul like a parasite. When that's removed, you no longer qualify. Bhaal no longer whispers in your ear or haunts your dreams, or threatens to pilot your body. You can't become his avatar, or harness his divinity and channel it into divine magic. You cannot hijack that fragment and claim the Throne of Blood.

When Bhaal is removed, you are no longer a Bhaalspawn.

But you still fall into the same box as cambions and pre-4e tieflings: "Tieflings are aware at an early age that they are different from the people around them, and often have strange urges, desires, or needs because of their heritage." You're still "genetically" half-god: Bhaal's taint runs in your veins, and will pass onto your offspring. The "violent rage [still] pollutes [your] tainted blood" and you want to kill everything. On the alignment chart you are instinctually "pushed" towards the evil end. Sorcery seems to remain intact, so I guess that's falling more on the "genetic" side, like if your sorcerous ancestor was a dragon or demon. And this "genetic" divine component was kind of necessary, because fully mortal hosts tend to start dying when they're used to house Bhaal.

Bhaalspawn are not actually supposed to be able to exist/survive without that fragment. One who is separated this way is fundamentally aberrant and wrong to those with the senses to pick up on it (and their own): "[They] exist; [they] do not live. [...] [They] are nothing." Theoretically, the Gods can remove Bhaal from the Bhaalspawn, but as of 5e canon this is not entirely foolproof because Jergal and the Dead Three don't actually follow any of the goddamn rules, and Bhaal has tricked everybody into thinking one of his spawn was cleansed of him when they weren't before: "Bhaal’s vestige [is] still lurking in [their] mind" and able to exert some influence over their choices (which is apparently "canonically" what happens if Charname remains mortal at the end of BG2).

Also, weirdly, the fact that Orin and Durge's future hypothetical offspring count as Bhaalspawn carries the implication that Bhaal is involving himself with the babymaking process and placing fragments of his being into them. And why. Why do you make everything unclean, Bhaal.

[pokeharvest]

I'm absolutely obsessed wth @hwathwugu's bg3 western au and had to draw something for it!!! Starting off with Sister Shadowheart <3 Here's hoping I have time to draw the rest of them soon :D

[Image ID: Two digitally drawn images of Shadowheart. She is wearing a pioneer style dress with boots. The dress's sleeves are poofed until the elbow, then straight to the wrist. She is wearing a frilled collar covering her neck and part of her chest. The skirt of her dress is pulled up through her belt, revealing one of her legs. She is slightly leaning back in a wide stance while holding a revolver. The first image shows her in a blue and yellow palette, and the second shows her in sepia tones. Text in the background reads: "Shadowheart" in all caps and there is a zoomed in, superimposed version of Shadowheart in the background. End ID.]

[theersatzcowboy]

Heaven's Gate (Director's Cut), 1980

An infamously troubled production, butchered by the studio (and subsequently panned on release), this stunning, demythologizing masterpiece about American Western expansion is one of the last vestiges of the auteur-driven filmmaking of the 1970s, posthumously restored to greatness and reevaluated as a lost triumph of American filmmaking.

Director: Michael Cimino

Cinematographer: Vilmos Zsigmond

Production Designer: Tambi Larsen

Starring: Kris Kristofferson, Christopher Walken, John Hurt, Sam Waterston, Brad Dourif, Isabelle Huppert, Jeff Bridges, Joseph Cotten, Mickey Rourke, and Tom Noonan.

[hwathwugu]

And I’m NEVER GOING BACK!!!

[eveningmoonlite]

I have Halsin in production for stickers and keychains on my Etsy! 🐻

[aienhancedaestheticsblog]

[songofsoma]

all roads lead to you

After ten unwilling years of being in Zauriel’s gang, Karlach escapes. Seeking a new, normal life, she finds work on a ranch outside the town of Baldur’s Gate. After a decade, she’s finally surrounded by friends and work that does good. Besides, the farmer’s daughter Daefina isn’t so bad to be around either.

Karlach adjusts to her new life of freedom. But will this peace last forever?

pairing: karlach x f!tav words: 2,025 rating: general

read on ao3

chapter one | new beginnings

Karlach breathed in deeply. She wanted to savor the crisp, country air of the north.

It was so different from the heat of the south, which was bitter, dry, and unforgiving. If she hadn’t been made for the heat, her skin would surely have been dry and cracked from days under the unforgiving Avernus sun.

The air of Faerûn was unlike any she had experienced before. Here, it smelt like freedom.

Her horse’s hooves padded quietly as they traversed up the dirt path. If she turned around in her saddle, she might still be able to make out the sign that hung from the arched gate at the edge of the property: Baldur’s Gate Farm.

This farm had been here longer than the town itself. Hells, it’s where the town got its name according to the bar owner who rented her a room. A drow with a seemingly permanent scowl set into the deep grey of her face and hair as white as the snow Karlach had never seen pulled into a loose bun at the back of her head. Minthara, Karlach remembered her because her first thought was that the woman must have needed a stool to stand on to reach across the bar.

“I’m in need of a job,” she said when Minthara plopped down a plate of roasted meat, bread, and a tankard of beer in front of her.

Sanguine eyes regarded her, gaze flitting over her as if sizing her up. “You’ll do me no good here,” the gravel of her voice made it sound like an insult. “The ranch just outside of town could probably use all that muscle.”

Karlach had left first thing that morning, following the directions Minthara had given her out of the bustling town and into the plains where the farm spanned over. As far as the eye could see green pastures dotted by an occasional smear of trees or bisected by a fence as the mountains rolled on farther in the distance. The early morning sun painted everything in a comforting warmth, a dichotomy to the chill of the morning breeze.

It was peaceful here. That, she could already feel in her bones. What an ideal place for a brand new start.

As she rode up to the house, there were more signs of life than the lush scenery. A few horses roamed the nearest pasture, their heads lifting to watch as she passed before going back to grazing.

The path led up to a large house. It was clearly old. its walls made of wood that had been weathered in places, other planks having been replaced judging by the color that had yet to fade from the sun. A porch spanned over the front before wrapping around the side and disappearing from view.

Karlach dismounted and tied her reins to the hitching post near one of the pasture gates. She stood in front of the building, taking off her hat and holding it in both hands as she peered up into the dark windows. There weren’t even candles burning to chase away the dark of dawn.

Was the house still asleep? She had thought work on the ranch started as soon as the sun began to peek over the horizon. Then again, what did she know about farm life? She was a recently “retired” outlaw, a career if one could call it that, that she hadn’t wanted in the first place. It had been only weeks since she escaped Zauriel’s gang by just the skin of her teeth. The best ranch experience she had was stealing horses from some farm owned by a bunch of rich folks or when she slept in a barn whether the farmer knew or not.

But Karlach had her height and muscle on her side and she was damned good at riding a horse. She had wrangled up rival gangs before, how much harder could cattle be?

“Aye, tiefling!” A voice called from her left side.

Karlach, being the only tiefling, not to mention the only other person around, turned in their direction.

A man approached her. The deep purple of his shirt was stained with dirt as if he had already worked a full day. His face was hard to see, most of it hidden in the long shadows cast by the brim of his hat in the dim morning light. He held a lead in his hand, a horse whose brown fur was speckled with white looming behind him.

“Can I help you with something?” he asked, stopping a few paces away from her.

“Who owns the ranch?” Karlach shifted her weight from foot to foot, anxiety suddenly gripping her innards.

“The Greensong family, ma’am.”

“Is that who I need to speak to for a job? I’m looking for work?” She pressed her hat closer to her chest as if it would shield her from a possible rejection.

The worker looked at her bemused. “That would be Mr. Greensong. Let me turn out Moe and I’ll take you to him.”

Karlach nodded, stepping aside as the man led the horse to the gates behind where her own horse was. She watched him unclip the halter, sliding it off the horse's head, and beckoning the horse to “Go and play now,” before he closed the gates behind him.

When he stepped in front of Karlach again, he held his hand out in greeting. “Apologies, Moe gets quite grouchy if I delay her schedule. Gale Dekarios, a pleasure to meet a new face. Don’t get much of that around here, unless you’re in town, then I suppose people come and go from all over.”

He continued on, still shaking Karlach’s hand.

“Karlach,” she said with a grin when he finally took a breath.

“Mr. Greensong is around back in the stables. He’s been fretting over the next cattle drive so I’m sure he’ll be looking for an extra set of hands.” Gale looked her up and down. “Especially with your bulk.”

She decided to take that last remark as a compliment since it was paired with a particularly friendly pat on her shoulder.

He led her around the back of the farmhouse and down a path to a stable that had been hidden from view. Though they were still a ways back, Karlach could hear the sound of voices.

“Astarion and Mr. Greensong have had quite the little tut all morning,” Gale mused, referencing people she didn’t know as if she were in on the joke. “I’m half-surprised Astarion is still able to talk and that Lae’zel hasn’t torn out his tongue.”

Karlach’s brows furrowed. “The ranch hands get away with arguing with the boss?”

He chuckled. “Not without consequence. He’s got Astarion on stable duty until the cattle drive.”

When they got up to the barn, they almost crashed into a man pushing a wheelbarrow. Having stopped abruptly, the wheelbarrow tipped over, its contents spilling all over the ground. It was immediately clear what it was when the smell hit her nose.

“For gods’ sake!” He cried out in a way that made Karlach wonder if he would stamp his foot like a child next. “Do you know how long that took me to fill? And now I have to shovel this literal shit all over again!”

“Consider it a lesser fate than the one I would give you,” a githyanki woman sneered, coming up behind him. “A blade on flesh would be more tolerable than your whining.”

Gale cleared his throat and introduced the two. “Astarion, Lae’zel.” He pointed to the appropriate party as their name was called. “This is Karlach. Found her loitering at the front pastures, asking about a job.”

Astarion had to have been the palest man she had ever seen. Really, he would have given a skeleton a run for their money. Red eyes narrowed as he tried to pass the shovel in her direction. “Great. Your first job can be to clean up the mess you made.”

Lae’zel glared at him and Karlach could sense there was certainly no kindness there. She had never met a githyanki before. She had only seen pictures of their upturned noses and sharp teeth in books when she was a kid.

“That task is assigned to you, Astarion,” an older man who Karlach assumed had to be Mr. Greensong appeared in the open doorway. “It’s not their fault you were in such a rush to get the work done that you weren’t paying attention.”

Lae’zel smirked and Gale struggled to hide his laugh in a cough.

He turned his attention from the disgruntled worker to Karlach, holding out his hand with a smile. “Camus Greensong.”

Karlach shook his hand firmly, noticing the roughness of his palms. These were working hands. This man wasn’t one to shack up in luxury and let the help do all the work. He was an elf, coming just to her chin. His years of working in the sun were evident by the dark tan of his skin, but it wasn’t enough to mask the green undertone that pigmented it. Dark hair had been left to grow long and was braided down his back so it could be out of the way.

“Karlach.”

“Heard your lookin’ for work. I could use a strong set of hands. You have any experience working on a ranch?” He let his hand fall and settle on a hip.

She shook her head. “No, sir. But I can ride well, lift the heavy stuff, and am willing to learn.”

Mr. Greensong was clearly pleased with her attitude. “Perfect. Lae’zel or Gale can show you the bunkhouse where you’ll live. You have a horse?”

She nodded.

“Bring her ‘round and we’ll get an empty stall set up for her with fresh water and feed. Plenty of room for her to graze. After you do that, there’s a few fences that need fixing in preparation for bringing the cattle back off the mountains. Don’t want them escaping after it took five damned days to get them here. I’ll show you where those are.”

What a boring task. Karlach had never been more excited.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Karlach’s body had never ached so good before. It was euphoric.

For the first time in ages, her muscles were exhausted from doing something that helped rather than hurt. She had grown so accustomed to the pain that came from cutting someone down or crouching for hours at an ambush point, but this was different.

Mr. Greensong had taken her along the fences and pointed out the spots where a board had rotted away. She lugged the materials, pried apart the ruined fence, and hammered new wood into place. He had even praised her work ethic.

“Most others would’ve dropped by now,” he mused as she dropped the pile of wooden planks to the ground. “Or at least brought a wagon.”

Karlach didn’t need a wagon. The rotten areas hadn’t been that far.

She laid on her back in the small bed Lae’zel had pointed her to. It was pushed up against the wall right by a window. Karlach could lay her head on the pillow and look out at the night sky full of stars if she tilted her face just right. It didn’t matter that three other people were all sleeping in the same room. This was finally something she could call her own, Lae’zel had made that clear.

“Your bunk is yours,” she stressed. “You find anyone sniffing around, you have the right to do as you see fit.”

Karlach could use context clues to imagine what she meant by that.

It wasn’t like there was much of hers to dig through, however. All she had was a small saddlebag containing a few spare clothes, a significantly light bag of gold, and a pistol. Tucked nicely beneath her bed was her battleaxe. Sure, guns were nice, but nothing could beat the security of steel in her hands.

She pulled the woven blanket further up her body, unable to stop the smile that spread over her lips. This would be her life now.

And what a damned good life it would be.

[raywhitfield92]

Western Bloodweave.

Watch my Time-lapse here