Better a Live Coward than a Dead Fool

"You wanna kill an Uruk, you gotta take the head clean off-- does the job every time. Well, most of the time, I think..." ◙ Indie roleplay blog for Ratbag the Coward ◙ Semi-selective ◙ Follows back with Chainsxwsmile-Personal ◙ Please read RULES before interacting! ◙ ABOUT Ratbag the Coward

[mightyviciousologsfriend]

// Hey, guys. I’m sorry about this but I don’t think that I’m going to return to this blog.

I’ve had my doubts writing Ratbag, but today it’s come to my attention that I don’t really give him the depth I tried to. So I’m shelving this blog. Sorry about this.

[mightyviciousologsfriend]

Currently on indefinite semi-hiatus

Thank you for your patience!

[aventvrines]

a dynamic duo 😌

[boozy-dwarf]

Ratbag and corpses.

Considering how much he likes to loot from the dead, he should consider switching to a marauder tribe. :D

( Yes, I understand that he steals out of necessity. He’s just so happy in those moments. it’s funny! )

[sinick]

[aventvrines]

thanks ratbag ✧ bonus:

[sinick]

Definitely NOT mine, found on the Shadow of Mordor reddit.

[mightyviciousologsfriend]

Why do you exist

“Well, isn’t that the question of the day! A bit late to get existential, don’t’cha think?”

[galadhremmin-deactivated2026031]

the last Orc in the world, lonely like that whale singing at just the wrong frequency, more than several hundreds of years old.

He does not remember being an Elf. He does not because his parents had long forgotten how to be one by the time they had him. Darkness has never been anything but a comfort, cold as it might be, and carries no different memory.

Wandering through the busy streets, everything is too bright. There are neon signs full of eyes looking down on him, that at least familiar. Everything moves so fast it blurs at last. His people had no word for century. Cannon fodder only needs to count from 3 2 1 FIRE --

they fell before the sword.

They all fell before their swords, and were gone by the time weapons were invented that could have finished them faster. Gone, then forgotten at last. Everyone but he who escaped, came back to die after.

and found his face was now too unfamiliar to inspire fear, the enemy too to unlike how they had been to fight. As foreign to them as the Elves would be, united with old enemies at last, lost, alone yet not even remarked upon. His eyes move yellow in the dark. A driver curses until he moves out of the way.

[boozy-dwarf]

Talion: - …Yes.

I’m just in awe of his self-confidence … or folly :D it seems he is already used to taking away the glory of a ranger and does not even notice it.

[estelofthedunedain]

Hey would you mind reblogging this if you’re an active Tolkien rp blog

Semi-active counts too

This post was made on 8th May 2021

[mightyviciousologsfriend]

I’ve needed to draw my Uruk boooooy!

And what better reason than MerMay?! I’ve always been partial to eels, especially the New Zealand longfin eel who are equal parts friendly and mysterious. And resilient beyond imagination, which certainly fits Ratbag!

[tolkienillustrations]

Gorgoroth by Paul Lasaine

[mightyviciousologsfriend]

◙ I had a dream that Warner’s released a Shadow of War film and Ratbag was among of the main characters, but his voice sounded younger and apparently he liked the read?

[tolkienillustrations]

From Hobbiton to Mordor by John Howe

[thebarrowboy-deactivated2021041]

[mightyviciousologsfriend]

uruking​:

@mightyviciousologsfriend​  said:     “How’re ya not *frozen*?” asked the shivering Uruk runt; Ratbag pulled the animal fur cloak tighter across his chest, squinting in another gust of chilled wind.

     the  WIND  of  the  misty  mountains  must  STING  against  the  uruk’s  skin  /  the  bitter  COLD  a  welcome  sensation,  on  azog’s  part.  for  these  mountains  are  his  HOME—  &  the  home  of  his  father  before  him.  the  cold  runs  in  his  blood,  so  it  does  little  to  CHILL  the  pale  orc.  however,  he  turns  to  glance  DOWN  at  his  companion,  remarking  the  shivering  thing  silently  for  a  moment. 

     ❝     mountain  my  home.     ❞     he  says  simply,  reaching  down  to  snatch  the  little  orc  by  the  scruff.  ratbag  is  pulled  up  &  onto  the  warg’s  back,  pulled  close  &  pressed  back  against  azog.     ❝     you  get  used  to  it.     ❞

◙ Seemed fair, he supposed. Maybe the great white Orc being born— or at least however Orcs got their immense numbers in Dol Guldor; certainly not like the vats in Mordor— and bred in the mountains make him all the more used to the frigid winds and solid ground powdered white with snow.

“Reckon that— hnng!” Ratbag gave a start as he felt the ground fall beneath his feet; though he ought to be used to it by now, shouldn’t he? And no sooner did the Uruk runt feel the great Orc’s chest against his back that he quickly realized how little the cold seeped through a sudden flush across his face.

Guess that was one way to solve that problem.

Ratbag cleared his throat. “Reckon that makes sense,” he grinned with a snaggle-toothed smile. “S’it get as hot as Mordor any places ‘round ‘ere?” The Uruk runt hadn’t scouted out areas beyond Azog’s hold-- and Mordor, of course. 

[gobproblem]

Happy Valentine’s Day. Here’s some Shadow of War meme e-cards.