Glutos Orscollion was born to one of the wealthiest houses of the Mortal Realms and ate his way through its fortune before he came of age. At a banquet whose true hosts, it is whispered, were servants of the Dark Prince, the young lord tasted a single spoonful of something perfect — and every mouthful since, across long centuries of gourmandising, has tasted of ash. That spoonful made him Slaanesh's forever: not out of pleasure, but out of pursuit.
Now the Lord of Gluttony travels the realms aboard a groaning feast-palanquin, attended by a court of personal chefs, cellarmasters, tasters, and flatterers whose whole lives are spent composing his next attempt at the lost taste. His appetite long ago outgrew mere food. Glutos samples sensation itself — rare vintages and rarer memories, the hush before an avalanche, the particular flavour of a proud city's surrender — and seasons each with sorcery, for he is a wizard of the curdled senses whose spells make the world taste as grey to his enemies as it has so long tasted to him.
His fellow Hedonites mistake him for the mildest of Slaanesh's lords, for he never hurries and rarely rages. They misunderstand. Glutos is gluttony as grief — a mourner chasing one perfect moment across a ruined world — and he prosecutes his search with the unhurried calm of a creature that has already decided it will consume absolutely everything before it stops looking.