He fired the grenade launcher he was clutching against his chest.
The grenade round hit Worna in the sternum, with enough kinetic force to knock him back several steps.
Recovering his balance, the grizzled bounty hunter looked down. The round had magnetically attached itself to his breastplate. Worna scrabbled at it to knock it off.
It exploded.
The blast sent Nayl sprawling along the floor. It threw Worna's mighty, spread-eagled form violently across the chamber in the other direction, demolishing the far doors as he ploughed into them.
Nayl picked himself up and hobbled down the room to the wreckage of the doors. Smoke threaded the air. He could see Worna's corpse on its back, half buried in broken hardwood door panels.
The armour of his upper torso was buckled and blackened, and his face was a raw, red mask of burnt flesh.
...
Winded, Nayl tried to struggle, but Worna was already rising, black eyes burning savagely out of the blast-flayed remains of his face. Blood wept from the seared flesh.

Ravenor Rogue pg. 376