<strong> Victor Orestes, left flank of battle line. </strong><br/><br/>Victor had been shifting as he fired, trying to gauge the place where the lines would meet. Thought he knew that the wave of orks would probably hit the entire line at the same time, he was attempting to guess where the lead orks would be, wanting to help prevent that part of the line from breaking. He could feel the heat radiating from his pack as he continued to pour on the fire, now advancing towards the command group as he noticed the orks were fast approaching that part of the line. Knowing that he couldn’t do much against the armor-clad boss, he focused on the bodyguards.<br/><br/>As the two lines met, Victor came to understand that his supporting fire had apparently caught some of the dim-witted orks’ attention. As he came towards the line to fill in the gaps of dead troopers cut down by the orks’ random fire patterns, he was met by the snarling visages of two orks. The sweeping weapons came in hard and at supporting angles and Victor had to rotate had to miss though he did feel the knife cut across the side of his armor. Spinning about quickly, he fired from the hip, backing away from these lumbering hulks. “Come on you ugly bastards. Come have a taste of my lasgun.”<br/>