There's the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard when it hits. His uniform back is torn open, and there's a long, shallow scrape mark down his flesh, like a diamond tip run along glass.
"Hey! Damnit, what are these things made of?" he snarls, spinning around with a backhand towards the warrior.
On one hand, these things aren't going to do much. On the other, even shallow wounds will take a while to heal on his odd diamond physiology.
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