After several minutes of feeding, Malkath's bloodlust finally started to fade away slightly, he'd consumed most of his opponent's internal organs that were edible, leaving the stomach and intestines and the white ribs of the carcass, bloody leftovers splattered all over the edge of the steps and the body. He'd purposely neglected his victim's head, but now directed his attention to it in his more sober sate.

His hands still bloody, Malkath retrieved his Kroot Rifle from the floor where he'd left it and used the serrated blade along its outside edge to cut through the neck and spine, separating the former Kroot's head from his body. He lifted the head up and expected it absently for a moment before taking a short length of rope from his belt, and tying it carefully around the head, which he then tied closely to his belt, he stood up to test to make sure that the knots were sturdy. The head still dripped blood and would probably bounce around a bit, but it shouldn't move that much. He'd clean it and have it added to his collection whenever he made it back to his room aboard the ship they came upon.  

He had just finished doing this when he heard screams of help coming from further into the facility, echoing down the halls, to which he turned his head in their direction. Was it their targets, or one of his fellows? Whether it was one or the other, it meant there was still work to do, and if it was one of their guys who was screaming, it meant the Pirates had more than a few tricks up their sleeve yet. 

Thus, the Kroot Mercenary readied his Kroot rifle, still bloodied at the stock from smashing in the face of one of the last pirates in both hands and crouching down, he set off in a run at all fours, bloody claw prints left behind him for several metres. He passed by other scattered members of the mercenary company he recognized briefly by their crests, they likewise were moving or looking in the direction of the screaming, or were rooting through the various rooms or bodies of the deceased if they didn't care. Some looked over at him as he passed and a few were disgusted, Malkath wasn't too surprised, he probably looked like death with the head hanging from his belt, as well as the blood all over his chest, arms, claws, and beak, almost all of it not his own. 

His racing pace took him to the source of the screams for help, near the facility's generators. As he bounded a corner, jumping off the wall in front to land on two feet and bring his Rifle to bear, he saw two men running up the hall towards him. The one was one of the cyborgs they had in their crew, he was the one screaming and running, the other was one of the pirates with a . . . energy sword and power armour? Well, at least the cyborg wasn't a coward, he just wasn't foolish.

[i]Well, there was a challenge[/i] Malkath thought, but no sense in being bold here, time to play things smart. Aiming his Kroot rifle down the hall at the two running combatants, Malkath shouted at the cyborg in his gravelly voice.

[b]"Get clear!"[/b]