During his travel through the corridors of the ravaged hulk, Zuriel felt a presence... no, several.

It was deamons, summonings, he knew since the already thin veil was in parts ripped asunder as warp beings tore their way into realspace. Their presence was mesmerizing, so much power.
To be honest Zuriel was glad he had several feet of bulkheads between him and the battle that was probably going on.
He didn't know, but when some sort of psyker keeps throwing powers, as loads of deamons were casting warp fire, he just assumed there was a battle.

He was just deciding if he would go to watch the battle itself or let it be when a strange alien warp ripple threw itself upon his mind.
He barely had time to react when a massive ork materialized next to him surrounded by green lightning bolts which exploded outwards into a cascade of sparks.
What was worse was the null zone that emerged, which cast Zuriel out of his mistform.
With a simple swirl his robed form emerged from the mayhem, holding a pistol. Not aimed at anything in particular, but still drawn.

Luckily the large ork didn't rip his throat out instantly, Zuriel had no doubt in his mind it would have had it not gotten its arm stuck with that warp hijinks it just performed.
Zuriel found himself happily just outside arms length from the large angry ork.

-"My my, what do we have here. An ork that thinks itself a sorcerer? Fascinating!" Zuriels words were not mocking words, but rather pleasantly surprised ones.
He followed up by pointing the pistol, fizzling with purple energy, towards the orks face before going on.
-"Give me one reason why i shouldn't blow your face off?" The dread magos filthy broad smile more of a psychotic grin than a happy one.