His finger rested gently against the trigger as he waited for the target's head to settle. The ork leaned its head back , opened its enormous maw and bellowed to the heavens. Tycho saw the gab between the huge tusks of ivory, exposing a clear shot to its brain cavity, and squeezed the trigger. The long las bucked as a hot-shot las-round sizzled across half a mile of humid air in the blink of an eye. It was the perfect kill shot.

The Trophy pg. 22