His horns missed the intended target. Morir in his thoughtless, enraged state couldn't for his life figure out why the three, long, dangerous prongs attached to his face hadn't been shoved up the ass of the gum-flapping man-whore daring to call himself a stallion. He would have been quite content to keep running, chasing after shadows, if his front leg hadn't suddenly slammed into something hard on the ground, nearly toppling him in the process. As it was, his inbred agility saved him from a complete face-plant into the wet loam; he jerked the heavy neck upwards and was able to dig the hind legs firmly under himself before leaping, so that he soared over the dangerous tops of Thranduil's horns without ever noticing they were there. He felt the bruised ribs ache as he landed and blamed it on the opponent; if he hadn't run off instead of stay still and let Morir kill him he would never have slammed into that tree.

The only good thing about this whole stumbling, jumping and tripping affair was that now he knew exactly where the bastard was hiding. "Cowering on the ground suits you, you fucking snake!" he howled and barreled around, pivoting around his fronts until he faced the fallen horse. "Now stay there and eat my hooves! Blindy, blindy, I'll make you blind too and then I will fuck your ass until you taste blood!" As he screamed the tall, black demon of a horse leaped again, up and forth like a fox hunting in snow with sharp cloven hooves aimed for the spine of his opponent. If he could hit the head, all the better; he'd bash the others brains in, kill him and throw him about like he had that rabbit last winter. No way he would end up frightened by his murdered victim this time, no! He would dance upon the corpse until every bone had been buried deep in the ground, until the very ghost of this person's memory was forgotten and erased. No one would ever taunt Morir about his blindness and walk away without regretting it. Ever.

Regardless of whether his assault had hit flesh or not, Morir reared back up and slammed his hooves down again, and again, pummeling earth and flesh alike in his insane desire to murder his target. Should the other scramble up on his feet again Morir would be after him in an instant, baring teeth and slashing horns until the other was a bleeding mess.

"Bow and beg for mercy!" he screamed, looking completely deranged as he snapped the air, head tossing up and down so that soaked tresses whipped and snatched in the wind. He was foaming now from the effort of the continuous movements, white lather forming at every crevice of the body; the elbows, neck and groin, even by the corners of the mouth where the dripping blood from the mask dyed it a horrible shade if pink. "Or if you want to live, run! Run and make sure to live fast, because one day I will find you and make you regret that your bitch of a mother ever crapped you out into this world!"

The rain was not cold enough to extinguish his fire, the wind not strong enough to blow away his rage. He was a mad ghost, a spirit of vengeance and he would collect the dues in the name of all the bullied, oppressed, weak and helpless - and he would do it all for his own sake, so that his blood-thirst might be slaked.

_______________________
PC: 3/3 + Closing defense
WC: 595
Ooc: Morir jumps over Thranduil's head and avoids the horns, lands, turn around and make a second jump to stomp on him with his forelegs. Then he rears back up and slam down repeatedly, ready to chase after should Thran get up and try to run.

"I embrace the thorny rose to my chest and
fall into the crimson sea
I continue dancing upon the
piled bodies until I die"