The righteous lets out a hollow laugh, crackling vocals shuddering within his throat as he lunges his gaping maw for the golden's own throat, mad with the need to end him. Here is a mind brimming with sin, sinful possibilities that spawn from the sight of the bosom of the manipulator, the pink whore. This diseased golden could not be here, not before the mongrel. He must repent, or his flesh will sour and rot under the climate of his unholy sins. The beast will not allow something so foul to taint his sweet prize, will not let those cloven hooves muddy his trophy. 

ENOUGH.

The bellow from the guised fool makes him cackle sadistically, horns piercing his side and scraping along his flesh, too caught up in the untamed mess of fur along the beast's body to create anything but shallow wounds. WEAK. He wants to shout, too busy focusing in on what the fool would do next to formulate words. Cloven hoof clashes against a thick ankle, promising a faint swelling but not enough to deter the mongrel from ramming a shattered horn in the direction of the golden's cheek, mouth gaping in a war cry. 

Smoke pillages the crisp sight he's so familiar with, massive body swinging around in an attempt to knock the golden off his hooves, desperate to take the upperhand. "You idiot! She will never accept your affections!" He screeches triumphantly, head swinging wildly through the air as he desires to bash in the brains of that aureate bastard. "You are WEAK!!" The twitching lips and bloody ivory canines are an intimidating sight as he bellows out his fury, great chest rising and falling with his frustrations overwhelming him. 

His sight returns, emerald eyes blinking in a desperate attempt to clear away the sickening smoke that still burned in the corners of his eyes. There was so much to feel, so much untamed rage that threatens to burn away the shreds of rationality keeping the tiger mongrel from tearing apart the bitter flesh of the crowned man, his conscious begging for the sweet release of his temper. With his next cry he brings that rationality crumbling away, animalistic instincts urging him to leap head on towards the golden to try and crush him beneath his weight, to dig sharpened ivory into the meaty metallic neck and feast upon the unsatisfactory flesh. He will consume only in his glory, a triumphant roar to finalize the golden's fate. 
"Talk talk talk"

tries to get at thrans throat,
later tries to jab his cheek w his horn tip
(cant see bc magic) swings his body around in an attempt to body slam thran
(cant see bc magic) tries to headbutt thran
lunges head on (from where thran was standing prior to being blinded) and tries to bite at his neck