Thorn Hand Cannon Exotic "The weapon was a sight to behold, as Dredgen Yor drew it from his hip. The wicked and archaic craftsmanship, seething with menace. It was hungry. The gun, the bullets, they starved for blood, and something else. A single shot rang out, the gun's hammer driving a wicked nail forward into his foe's chest. The nail tore through flesh and bone as if nothing more than wet paper and dry sticks. I could hear the Guardian scream, yet his mouth was not open. His very soul screamed and writhed in agony, as the bullet's dark hunger set to devour it. He stepped towards his dark and evil foe, in a vain attempt to fight back. Yor simply smiled, and the Guardian fell to the ground, unmoving, an empty husk. And as the Guardian's soul died, I saw a part of Yor's soul die with him. Yor flung his head to the sky and let loose a laugh darker and more sinister than anything we had ever seen or heard. He had never felt so alive."