Sorcerer Intro - First Draft

[Apostle of the 30th Host]

I wrote this little piece of dialogue to try and build on my ideas for a Black legion Sorcerer I want to accompany my Word Bearers as the emisarry of the Warmaster.
It is set before he is attached to my Host and is just there to try and establish a bit of character and personality for him so that when I come to updating my armies background I have something to build on.

Any thoughts/comments/suggestions on this would be great, particularly in reference to the idea of the character. Bearing in mind this is a first draft and there will be changes (like less repetition of 'the Sorcerer' when he gets a name).

Thanks!

+++ To briefly set the scene: Abaddon has tasked the Sorcerer with recovering an artefact of significance from an Imperial world. Arriving at the planet, the Sorcerer had hidden his fleet in the orbit of the planet’s moon, hoping to strike while his enemy were unprepared and escape before a significant defence was mounted. This plan was hampered by the arrival of a Butcherhorde of Khorne, which had alerted the local Imperial forces, who had marshalled to defend the planet as distress calls were sent out request the aid of the Adeptus Astartes. In order to ensure a favourable outcome is still achieved, the Sorcerer attempts to parley with the Lord of the Butcherhorde, hoping to use them as a valuable tool in achieving his goal… +++

‘My Lord’, the Sorcerer sneered. He was softly spoken, taking the time to deliver his every word, yet the contempt in his voice was apparent in the face of such savages; ‘You understand why I'm compelled to make this visit?’
The Khorne Berserker remained silent, the muscles in has face twitching as the Butcher’s Nails bit deeper in the presence of the Psyker.
‘The actions of your, horde, have put me in a difficult position. There is an artefact upon the surface of this planet that my master desires, and it is I who has been tasked with delivering it to him. I had intended to claim it before any significant resistance could be mounted, however, your blundering presence here has already alerted the…’
The Berserker let out a deep laugh that echoed around the skull filled deck of the Cruiser. ‘Khorne cares not from where the blood flows Sorcerer! The more enemies the better, we shall kill them all!’ Raising his Chainaxe to the sky, the Berserker began to chant, his words echoed by his followers gathered around them.
‘Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn!’
Returning his gaze to the Sorcerer again, the Berserker grunted. ‘I do not care about your master; I do not care about his prize! He is weak, arrogant; sending a Sorcerer to do his will’. He laughed again, levelling his whirring Chainaxe with the Sorcerer’s neck as he turned his head to the baying ranks of Berserkers that surrounded the Sorcerer and his chosen bodyguard.
‘We have come to this planet to bleed it in the name of Khorne. You’re welcome to claim your prize Sorcerer, but I shall claim mine in return…’
The Sorcerer smiled, he had hoped for such a response. ‘I appreciate your candour. It's refreshing, and tells me that you're not smart enough to be a threat to my desires…’
The Berserker snarled, bearing his sharpened teeth as the Sorcerer’s words bit deeply into his pride.
‘Which brings me to my next issue. I am not surprised to hear that you will butcher this planet regardless of the Warmaster’s desires on it. In fact, I anticipated it, as the servants of Khorne are such clichés after all. The fact that you're just as likely to kill one another as our enemies is also tolerable…’
He could see the rage burning behind the Berserker’s eyes, he wanted to strike him. Yet the Sorcerer knew the effect his kind had on the Butcher’s Nails; clouding his mind, slowing his reactions.
‘What I will not tolerate is failure. I will not have your presence here interfering with my task. And so, I offer you the chance to atone for your mistake. Tie up the Imperial forces, buy us time to complete our task, and we shall concede this planet to you.’
‘Who do you think you are?’ Roared the Berzerker, hefting his Chainaxe to claim another skull for his collection. Yet the Sorcerer was too quick for him, the armoured gauntlet of his Terminator Armour colliding with the Berserkers throat, forcing him to his knees, grasping violently at his windpipe as he struggled to breathe.
The Sorcerer closed on his target, servos whining as he lowered himself to the fallen Lord’s level.
‘Who I am, or what I am?’ He murmured, barely loud enough to be heard over the Berserkers gasps.
‘Who I am, is, complicated. What I am is easier. I'm the voice of the Warmaster; his will made manifest. I alter outcomes.’
With that, the Sorcerer grasped the Berserker’s head, giving it a single, violent twist, before ripping it from his shoulders. Holding his trophy aloft, blood flowing down the length of spine still attached and pooling on the floor, the Sorcerer addressed the howling Berserkers.
‘”Khorne cares not from where the blood flows?”’ He mocked. ‘Duly noted’ the Sorcerer muttered to himself, casting the head aside as he and his followers were teleported off the ship.

He was confident his message had been received…