There's a blur, and Herm feels a single drop of blood trickle down his chest, the monsters scythe easily piercing into his chest, the tip sunk into the chest muscles. "If I were to pull this down, you'd be gutted." Prisom raises his glowing sword. "Phazer, what do you want?" The monster gives no notice of him, and stares down Herm, his black, animalistic eyes boring into Herm's eyes. There is nothing but hunger in those eyes. "Go ahead, muscle man. Make my day. I've fought literal armies and walked back out." The cut on his chest feels really weird, it's so cold it's burning.