Knuckles finishes shaking down the near-corpse, then takes the knife and puts it to Tixxon's throat, hissing: "Knuckles could kill you, right now. Knuckles like." He looks toward Crrok. "Knuckles let you choose. Live? Die?"
Crrok hisses and gives the thumbs down. Tail swishing, tongue lashing about. "No need more ssssoftssskinss." He growls. Cold.
Knuckles slowly drags the Zangali combat knife's blade across Tixxon's throat, releasing a gusher of violet-hued lifeblood.
Tixxon jerks, apparently feeling the blade even through his unconciousness. He kicks, once... twice.... and then no more. The thin burble of his last breath makes its way past the bloodflow....
Crrok watches and steps away from the flow of the softskins lifeforce. Grunting and hisses, "He no died good."
Knuckles shrugs, his armor clanking. "He not live good." - 2001
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