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#battle of the black gate
camille-lachenille · 1 month
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Playlist for the 25th March
For the Battle of the Black Gate (T.A. 3019):
For the Oath of Eorl (T.A. 2510):
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blueoncemoon · 1 year
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bonus: cliffhanger! (...we can circle back to it later)
Tolkien, writing “The Black Gate Opens”: Hmmm, I’ve already written the Battle of Helm’s Deep, and the Battle of the Pelennor Fields... and many other minor battles... and several skirmishes... 
Tolkien: *eyes the Battle of the Black Gate*
Tolkien: It’s really quite troublesome to write such full-scale battles... Lots of fighting, you know...
Tolkien: *Writes Pippin’s POV, buries him under a troll in the first 5 minutes of battle*
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alicebeckstrom · 2 years
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[Battle of the Black Gates, cont.] “…and there into the Fire where it was wrought he cast the Great Ring of Power, and so at last it was unmade and its evil consumed.” ~ The Silmarillion, Of the Rings of Power (Art: "Mt Doom Hobbits” by jasonpal on DeviantArt)
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find-the-path · 1 year
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Oc-tober Day 24 - Shadow - Haeben
A high, hair-raising shriek rends the air above the slag-hills, and as one every soldier around ducks instinctively, some falling to grounded enemies at their distraction. For hours now this battle has raged on, and every man here has seen a friend or comrade taken up by those black wings and cruel talons.
By his side, Círanlin ducks with the rest, but is up again on his feet a beat before the rest, spear clenched tight in his hands and a wild fire in his eyes. Haeben is up beside him soon after, but his sword is held in a terrified death-grip, and the light in his eyes is of fear rather than courage. The bedraggled crew, or what was left of them, had marched and fought and sailed together all throughout this damned war, but now in the thick of their last day, they have scattered, nearly every man lost from sight in the roiling, desperate sea of blood and ash.
The enemies before them pull back like an ebbing tide, though in regroup rather than flight. The men of the city the pair of them stand with hold steady, for not a man among them is not exhausted. They keep the line, for this pattern has become common this day, and soon enough a new legion, fresh and eager, advances forward to ascend the hill. Wearily, Haeben once more stands at the ready, once more lifts his sword, and once more looks to his captain to call their mark. 
He doesn’t know where the rest of his crew are. He doesn’t know if their newfound king even still lives. He doesn’t know if the other slag-hill has fallen already, and the men of Rohan they have only just met have fallen to the bitter scyth.
Círanlin dives forward with relentless energy, Haeben ever a half-step behind, and they head straight for the biggest foe before them--- a troll. Perhaps four hours ago he might have recoiled from the fight, but the endless waves of enemies have worn as much upon his mind as his strength, and he engages without a single coherent thought.
The troll swings a great club overhead with a bellow of rage, and Haeben dodges even as his captain catches it glancingly off his shield. The shield bends with a crack, and Círanlin gives a garbled shout as it crumbles and he beneath it. Haeben, desperate, throws every bit of strength into a wide cut at the troll’s stomach, not even aiming for a crack or chink but slamming straight into plate armour with a tremendous CLANG.
He stumbles, head ringing, but the troll turns to him. Distantly, he hears Círanlin struggling to his feet, but every sense concentrates on dodging, on swinging, and parrying when he cannot avoid it. Every blow lands like a great hammer on a forge, and his arm begin to numb even as his feet spike with agony. He bears no shield, and only such armour as the least of soldiers in this host had been alloted. 
The troll swings and he dives once more, slipping on blood-slickened ash and making it back upright through pure luck. Somewhere on the troll’s other side, Círanlin regains his feet, and plunges his spear-point straight into the gap between backplate and helm. The troll falls, shaking the ground beneath it.
Haeben, covered in an assortment of mixed black and red blood, mud, ash, and sweat, can barely stay upright, and his sword is a deadweight in his hand. Círanlin spares him a brief glance, and he nods. He can fight, though this battle will likely be soon over for him.
Somewhere above, on the crest of the slag-hill, a clear voice shouts “Nazgûl overhead!” and they all duck once more. The long night is not yet through.
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kirkhammr · 6 months
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I had to laugh the first time I fought Gortash because not only does Bane barley help the man during his battle- especially compared to the other undead 3s chosen- ( the fact that he just sends him. like. background dancers and enlarges him is so funny atcually) but ALSO he INSTANTLY sends him to super hell once he dies and then praises the one who killed him I- 😭 BANE ....😭
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middleearthmistress · 22 days
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I'm afraid you have the misfortune of facing Aragorn, son of Arathorn.
Aragorn, to Sauron.
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Black Dragon Gate by Sergey Glushakov
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popculturetarot · 5 months
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With the Seven of Wands you are in the zone, ready to fight any battle, by yourself if necessary and you handling the situation with grace no matter how overwhelming the odds.  
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easternblocrelics · 7 months
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Memorial for the Battle of Mohács for the 450th anniversary Hungary 1976
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tadpoled-ranger · 3 months
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The Dark Urge giving the emperor puppy dog eyes: do you need a hug?
The Emperor who just got offered a hug from Bhaal’s favorite little murderer: fuck no, but thanks.
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akkivee · 1 year
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juto and gentaro have been btching at each other with a smile like this for the entire battle AND DICES FACE LMAO
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digitalcalamity · 1 year
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Studio vinyl collection complete. 🤩🙌🏼
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(excuse the floor, my house is over 100 years old with the original flooring; gives it character)
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alicebeckstrom · 2 years
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[Battle of the Black Gates, cont.] “…and the towers of Barad-dûr crumbled in ruin, and at the rumour of their fall many lands trembled.” ~ The Silmarillion, Of the Rings of Power [Barad-dur crumbles down]
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mossy-rock-in-a-field · 4 months
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Several weeks ago, my retirement-age mother requested that I play Baldur’s Gate 3 for her because she has trouble with controllers/keyboards and wanted “to see what all the fuss is about with that cute wizard boy.” For context, my mother and I have done this sort of thing in the past with certain RPGs (dragon age, mass effect, etc.), but it’s been a few years since she’s personally requested a game like this. Basically, I control her Tav but let her make all the choices so she can determine how the story plays out without worrying about mechanics. She treats it like a choose-your-own-adventure book.
Anyway, here is a list of some of the things my mother has said and/or chosen to do throughout the course of BG3 in no particular order:
She is (obviously) romancing Gale. She is quite smitten with him and his passion for books and learning; she also thinks he’s polite and qualifies as “relationship material.” She also REALLY likes the things he’s said about his cat so far (my mom is a cat lady), so I know she’s gonna flip shit when we meet Tara in Act III.
She’s playing a normal druid Tav with a generally good alignment. Her favorite spell is Spike Growth because she thinks it’s hilarious whenever enemies walk into the AOE and die. I usually end up having to cast it at least once per battle per her request. Sometimes twice.
Contrary to her alignment, my mother tasks me with robbing every single chest, crate, barrel, and burlap sack we come across; this also includes people and their pockets. The party is always at max carrying capacity. ALWAYS. She doesn’t like selling things because “what if I need them.” The camp stash is in literal shambles. There is no hope of organizing it. She’s got like fifty seven sets of rags and a billion pieces of random silverware.
She MUST talk to every animal and corpse in the game. I think five hours of her total playtime so far (47ish) has been spent speaking to animals as many times as humanly possible. Like, I was thorough in my own playthroughs, but this is on a whole other level.
She did NOT get Volo’s lobotomy, but she did let Auntie Ethel take her eye in hopes of a cure for the tadpole. I did not understand the logic then. I still do not understand it now.
She is far more interested in fashion than equipment stats. Do you have any idea how much gold I’ve had to spend on dyes just to make things match? SO much. Same vibe as that “please someone help me balance my finances my family is starving” tweet but instead of candles it’s thirty thousand fucking bottles of black and furnace red dye.
We broke the prisoners out of Moonrise, but they got on the boat too early and bugged the fight by leaving Astarion and Karlach behind. Wulbren Bongle somehow got stuck in combat mode even after engaging the cutscene on the docks below Last Light; he he kept trying to run ALL THE WAY BACK TO MOONRISE nine fucking meters at a time while I frantically tried to finish the fight with the Warden, otherwise Wulbren would have run straight into the shadow curse. (I would’ve let him go; fuck Wulbren Bongle, all my homies hate Wulbren Bongle. But my mom didn’t know that, and she wanted to keep him safe. So.)
She had me reload a save like eighteen times to save the giant eagles on top of Rosymorn Monastery. Wouldn’t even let me do non-lethal damage just to get past things. I think getting that warhammer for the dawnmaster puzzle took us like an hour and a half alone. (Yes, I know you can use any warhammer, but SHE didn’t.)
She’s started keeping an irl notebook to keep track of her quests between play sessions. She writes down ideas and strategies when she thinks of them during the week, then brings them to her next game session at my house. I think she wrote about three pages on possible approaches to the goblin fortress alone.
She insists that I pet Scratch and the owlbear cub before every single long rest, no exceptions. Sometimes I have to do it multiple times until she is absolutely sure that the animals know exactly how much she loves and cherishes them. She has also commissioned a crocheted owlbear plush from a friend of hers and is very excited.
I’m sure there’s a bunch of stuff I’m forgetting, but those are some fun things I thought of. She’s enjoying the game and is telling all of her retired friends to get it and play it for themselves. She asked me “what is Discord” yesterday and I think my life flashed before my eyes.
anyway shout out to my mom for being neat
Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5
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emilybeemartin · 9 months
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On today's episode of LotR AU: Boromir Lives, it's after the battle of Pelennor Fields! There are so many great possibilities to explore when Boromir finally, finally returns to Minas Tirith--- making the agonizing decision to follow Aragorn through the Paths of the Dead instead of going straight to the city with Theoden, fighting like a demon outside the gates, learning about his father's death, and then choosing to leave again to accompany Aragorn to the Black Gate, but right now it's WHUMP TIME.
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Obviously, first up is Faramir. If Boromir is with Aragorn, he won't enter the city until after the battle, and so he wouldn't know anything about Faramir's flight from Osgiliath or the pyre in the tombs.
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In the few days between the battle and leaving for the Black Gate, I envision Boromir operating on undiluted adrenaline as the wounded and dead are tended. Who needs food? Who needs sleep? Not Boromir. He's returned to his city at its lowest possible moment and he's going to DO EVERYTHING TO FIX EVERYONE ALL AT ONCE.
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The scene where Pippin finds Merry wounded and dazed and wandering the streets, has always been a favorite of mine and was one of the first LotR illustrations I ever did ~20 years ago. In the book, Gandalf is the one who comes to carry Merry up to the Houses of Healing. In this AU, you know it's Boromir.
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Anyway, eventually Legolas and Gimli probably have to force some rudimentary self-care.
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Boromir Lives AU: Aragorn's Coronation
Boromir Lives AU: Faramir and Eowyn's Wedding
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