The Godseekers are defined by an absence. Somewhere beyond the Mortal Realms their god lies imprisoned — Slaanesh, the Dark Prince, chained since the war for stolen souls — and the Godseekers Host has bent its entire existence to the hunt for that hidden cage. They do not settle, do not garrison, do not hold; they move, always, at a reckless and rapturous gallop, chasing every rumour of their master's prison down roads no sane host would ride.
To a Godseeker each battle is not an end but a waypoint, one more mile of the only journey that matters. This lends their warhosts a terrible momentum: cavalcades of Seeker chariots and Hellstrider lancers thunder across the realms in a perfumed blur, treating enemy armies less as foes than as obstacles cluttering the road ahead. Woe to whatever stands in that road, for the Godseekers will not slow to fight it properly — they ride it down and gallop on, the pursuit resumed before the dust has settled. There is ecstasy in the chase itself, and it is this the Host has truly come to worship. Whether Slaanesh can ever be found, still less freed, matters less with each passing century than the sublime rapture of the seeking; they would sooner die at the gallop than arrive at a stillness that left them nothing to pursue.
Hedonites of Slaanesh
Order of battle
The Godseekers Host field the units of the Hedonites of Slaanesh — a detachment from the roster:
Kindred formations
Other Hedonites of Slaanesh formations
Invaders HostThe unchained tide of the Hedonite hosts — warbands owing allegiance to no single master, led instead by a squabbling constellation of champions racing to outdo one another. An Invaders host descends upon a land like a festival that eats cities, and its internal rivalries only make it deadlier, for every conquest is also a performance staged for jealous peers.
Lurid Haze InvadersInvaders who arrive inside rolling banks of perfumed, narcotic fog, so that battle begins as a dream and ends as a rout. The Lurid Haze strike from quarters no army should be able to reach, their coming announced only by a sudden sweetness on the wind.
Pretenders HostHosts sworn to a single magnetic despot who claims the Dark Prince's vacant throne. Every Pretender styles their court as Slaanesh's own in miniature — perfect, adored, absolute — and wages war as a coronation rehearsal. Their followers fight with fanatic devotion, for to serve a would-be god is to stand within arm's reach of godhood.