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(Hello fellow Dakka members. This is my first attempt at writing fiction and I would like to know what the community thinks of it as a starting point. Constructive criticism is appreciated.)

Tor surveyed the broken landscape, the smoldering remains of what was a month before, an imperial hive city, reaching high into the evening sky. Despite the damage it had suffered at the hands of his master the city still had a regal feel to it. The tall spires, Hab towers, industrial buildings of every form and function, even it’s now ruined defensive structures still seemed to give it a sense of grandeur. His sense of awe was broken by a feeling of alarm he recognized well, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and the un-mistakable feeling of electricity in the air told him who it was before he even heard the newcomers footsteps in the dirt. A figure in power armor, a mix of colors, black, red, blue, and gold, carrying a long staff walked up to him as he gazed at the ruined hive city.

“Our master honors you Tor.” The Sorcerer said through the vox-grill of his ornate helm. Tor couldn’t seem to find the honor in it. He had worked hard, fought hard, and killed many enemies across the galaxy and what did it get him? Recognized, sure but what real power could he claim as his own?

“I fail to understand how it is an honor, the master insults me, sorcerer.” The figure chuckled at the comment.

“I almost forget how young you are at times Tor. Not even three centuries old and in command of a company of warriors. You’ve served our master for one hundred years and in that time gained his favour. Its an honor young warrior, whether you see it or not.” Tor turned to the sorcerer the red panels in his helmets eye sockets glowing as the neural transmitters connecting his mind and body to his own suit of power armor responded to his anger.

“What I have is not a company of warriors, its…” He was cut of by an explosion to his left nearby, both figures scanned the area and determined it was nothing to be concerned about. Tor was about to finish his sentence but the sorcerer spoke first, his voice had a slight echo to it, he was using his ‘second voice’. The voice he had when he was using powers Tor didn’t understand and didn’t want to.

“Know this, there are things you can do that others cannot. There is great potential in you. Our master knows this. He has given you an opportunity to lead his warriors. He has given you a chance young champion, what you do with it is up to you.” With that the sorcerer turned and walked away, leaving the lone warrior to think on their conversation.

Tor never understood sorcerers. He wanted to think about something else, anything else, but it was not to be. Four warriors clad in similar power armor approached from behind him.
One held a Power Axe, an ancient and powerful weapon capable of cleaving through the toughest armor worn by any soldier. Another carried a massive armored hand, a Power Fist, capable of crushing and tearing apart tanks if necessary. The other two carried flamers, weapons that bathed enemies in fiery streams of liquid promethium. Calot, one of the Flamer baring warriors, spoke first. “Orders sir?” Tor knew what his orders were, he had known without being told.

“Get to the transports, we move into the city.” All four warriors nodded and left without another word. Tor looked back at the ruined city, somewhere in that massive mountain of stone and steel, was his target. Something his master desired, what it was he didn’t know. All that mattered was his lord and master wanted it, and Tor would get it for him.

Love it! I really enjoyed this little extract and i think you should continue the story (if you want to yourself). What bothered me a little bit was how you used the paragraphs in your story; it sometimes disrupts the flow. Nonetheless I think you're a good writer that has serious potential!
Good luck!