I think someone else put it better, but it's not that I do not like the game, I play the table top game mind you. The fact is that using low quality lore to retcon good one and well established and accepted is what we don't accept. I read that omnibus also after finishing the Soul drinkers one, and that is the Grey Knights I remember they where meant to be, not the aberrant thing we got in this low quality lore. The key also is, that warhammer is what you will, you can play on any part of the timeline / event, or you can completely ignore certain things and you are completely fine also, which is what most people do concerning Grey Knights lore. Now tabletop wise, the rules are the rules nothing you can do about it but figure out how to beat them which is almost as hard as Daemons army.
Do not be scared, Lord Draigo is here. I'm back from the warp. I captured a little deamon pet that will keep me in this universe.
Oiz ya shiny git! Youz better get back ta runnin' away with da Grotz or me n da Boyz'll krump ya gud n 'ard!!!
You better go read the latest Daemon Codex... Taken from Bolter&Chainsword: A lone wandering "knight" of the Adeptus Astartes visits the realm of Slaanesh, "with a will as strong as silvered adamantium". He passes through the various circles of his domain, easily rebuffing the desires in each. Once he got to the golden fields with naked women the first cracks appear. Also, we see that marines still have a little bit goin' on there. "The knight held his breath and closed his eyes, for though mortal pleasures were forbidden to his order, part of him was still a man." Then: "The crooning nymphs gathered around the knight, stroking his silvered armor..." He slaughters them which is great, but still. Then we get to: "...reminding him of the executions he had performed in the Emperor's name. mirrored pools reflected the knight as a shining saint, his face serene but his sword bloodied as he artfully carved apart rank after rank of red-skinned Daemons. The warrior turned away, troubled." This, I feel, references the slaughter of Sisters of Battle to defeat Khorne. Derp. Finally, he reaches Slaanesh himself. "The knight unsheathed his rune-etched sword and made to strike him down. To his horror, he found that he could not, for the god-prince was disarming in his innocence and utterly beguiling in his manner. Even the purest flame can be extinguished by the tide. In that single moment of doubt the wanderer was lost. He knelt, bowing his head at least, and a single touch of the being's glowing sceptre on each shoulder sealed his fate for eternity." ... Draigo...you got some explaining to do
http://warhammer40k.wikia.com/wiki/Realm_of_Chaos My codex and this wall of text are pretty much identical. A Knight's Tale Few gods welcome intruders to their empire, but there is one who loves to tempt visitors to his unnatural domain. This is Slaanesh, the Dark Prince of Chaos and the Lord of Pleasure. Those that dare enter his territory risk becoming trapped in its warped delights for eternity. The Dark Prince's realm is divided into six domains, arranged in concentric rings around his central Palace of Pleasure. While they might be mistaken for paradises, nothing here is as it seems. Each region is not only a celebration of Slaanesh's desires, but also his chief defence. An intruder can only reach the Palace of Pleasure, in the very heart of Slaanesh's territory, by passing through all six of the circles -- an act of will beyond most souls, both mortal and daemonic. One amongst the mortal visitors to his realm still looms large in the memory of Slaanesh however -- a wandering knight of the Adeptus Astartes whose will was as strong as silvered adamantium. The first circle the Astartes pushed though was richly appointed beyond the dream of kings. Mountains of stacked gold reached towards the rainbow mosaics of gemstones in the marble vaults high above, glittering ingots and diamonds beyond counting littered the ground. The knight marched past many a starveling wretch attempting to count the innumerable gold coins. Their sallow faces twisted with mounting greed until their piles toppled and, weeping, they had to start all over again. At every corner and crossroads stood gilded statues, some of beautiful Slaanesh, others of daemons and mortals trapped in blissful ecstasy. The trails in the diamond dust underfoot betrayed the fact that the statues were once flesh and blood. The knight had left notions of material wealth long behind, and he strode on without touching so much as a single coin. Crunching his way across a beach of golden teeth, the knight came to the shores of a vast lake of dark wine. The lake was dotted with pallid islands formed from the backs of giants, each linked by criss-crossing bridges. The backward hands of each giant held up a table that groaned under the weight of a lavish feast. There, he saw mortal men gorging themselves on the banquet, wide-eyed and desperate in their hunger as others frantically tried to gulp down the lake itself. The bloated and the obese moaned in pain as they crammed ever more food into their wine-stained mouths. The knight pressed on, distaste twisting his features as he passed the grisly remains of those who had consumed so much that they had physically torn apart. The Astartes wanderer made his way through fields of golden light and soft hay, were lissom maidens and beautiful youths flocked near-naked in the hallucinogenic musk of the lithe beasts that cavorted with them. The faces and fertile forms of the dancers were impossibly sensual, moulded to the perfect desire of the observer's heart. The knight held his breath and closed his eyes, for though mortal pleasures were forbidden to the Astartes of his order as they were to all Space Marines, part of him was still a man. The crooning nymphs gathered around the knight, stroking his silvered Power Armour and whispering of the sweet, carnal pleasures they would give him, but he yielded not to his desires. The severed limbs and heads that lay underfoot spoke of the truth behind the honeyed lies. Eyes shut, he cut down the Daemonette seductresses around him one after another, letting revulsion guide his shining blade. After fighting his way through the feminine contours of the foothills ahead, the knight emerged onto a balcony where he was greeted by roars of adulation and approval. An army of Space Marines so vast its number was beyond counting awaited before him on an endless plain, listening in fevered anticipation for his commands for conquest. Planetary Governors nodded on obsequious anticipation, and the High Lords of Terra themselves smiled up at him from smaller balconies of their own, motioning him to speak. The knight recognised one of the Imperial rulers before him from his own mortal life, and stood before him, looking deep into the philosopher-king's eyes. Behind the mask of power and self-assurance, he saw eternal, nagging paranoia; gnawing suspicion and hidden doubts about his continued grip on rule that were acid to the soul. The knight shook his head sadly and walked away, untempted by the lure of temporal power. Wearied by his ordeals, the wanderer strode on through a mesmerising woodland paradise, its maze of pathways thick with flowers and heavy with thorns. The gentle, fragrant breeze whispered to the knight of his past glories, reminding him of the executions he had performed in the Emperor's name. Mirrored pools reflected the knight as a shining saint of the Imperial Creed, his face serene but his sword bloodied as he artfully carved apart rank after rank of red-skinned daemons. The superhuman warrior turned away, troubled. In the distance, he could make out tortured figures staring intently into mirror-pool of their own, each held immobile by the undergrowth as whispering thorns insinuated themselves into their flesh, held frozen by their own pride. The wanderer turned his mind to the humility of the simple cell he once called home in his order's fortress-monastery. As he did so, the path through the maze writhed and straightened out before him. So the knight trudged on. A never-ending beach stretched away from the knight, heavenly choirs sung soothing lullabies as the perfumed sea lapped at the fortress walls of his mind. The wanderer's bones cried out for rest, even if only for a moment. The warmth of the golden sun above calmed his soul and the lapping tide began to erode his will. His tired eyes could barely stay open, but his vision was still clear enough to see the horrible truth. The bone-white sand was made from the remains of those who had rested there and gallen into a coma of blissful indolence and sloth. His resolve hardened, the knight strode on toward the shimmering purple palace in the distance. It was there, beneath the elegant spires, that the wanderer finally came before almighty Slaanesh himself. Statuesque and divinely glamourous, the deity visited him in the form of a young man possessed of an androgynous beauty -- clean-limbed and fresh with the vigour of youth. The knight unsheathed his rune-etched sword and made to strike him down as the embodiment of corruption that he was. To his horror, he found that he could not, for the god-prince was disarming in his innocence and utterly beguiling in his manner. For, in the end, even the purest flame can be extinguished by the tide. In that single moment of doubt, the Astartes knight was forever lost. He knelt, bowing his head at last, and a single touch of the being's glowing sceptre on each shoulder sealed his fate for eternity, another soul claimed by the Prince of Chaos.
