Of all the Dark Gods, Tzeentch is the one most at home in the Mortal Realms. He is the Architect of Fate, the great player of the great game, and the realms are a board built to his tastes: magic blows through them like weather, civilizations rise on ambition and hope, and both of those are his to twist. His worship needs no altars, because it begins wherever someone wants more than they have and believes cleverness can get it. From that seed grow the Disciples of Tzeentch: sorcerous cults, vain beast-flocks, and legions of daemons that are less creatures than ideas with teeth.
The god's mortal disciples hide in plain sight. In the free cities his Arcanite cults pose as scholarly circles, trade guilds, and friendly societies, recruiting the brilliant and the overlooked with the one bait that never fails: knowledge that is forbidden precisely because it works. Each initiate climbs a ladder of revelations, and every rung costs something: a rival denounced, a text stolen, a small betrayal that makes the next one easier. By the time an Acolyte understands that the ladder is a wheel, they are wearing the gilded mask, chanting in a cabal of nine, and the city above them is already hollowed out.
Where the veil tears, the daemons come through, and they are change given flesh. Pink Horrors cartwheel into battle giggling spells they never learned; slain, they split into spiteful Blue Horrors, which gutter down in turn to sullen Brimstones, so that every kill multiplies the enemy's work. Flamers vomit fire that rewrites whatever it touches, Screamers shoal down the aetheric winds like sharks scenting blood, and above them all drift the Lords of Change, feathered grand-viziers of impossibility who treat battles as arguments they have already won. A Changehost does not deploy so much as perform, and the performance is never about what it seems to be about.
That is the heart of the matter: with the Disciples of Tzeentch, nothing is ever about what it seems to be about. Every cult is a cog in a conspiracy, every conspiracy a thread in a tapestry, every tapestry a single move in the great game the Changer plays against gods, mortals, and himself. Defeats are budgeted for; some are engineered, for a plan that cannot survive failure is no plan of Tzeentch's. The realms' defenders take what comfort they can in the god's one weakness (that a final victory would end the game he cannot bear to stop playing) and try not to dwell on the obvious reply: if Tzeentch must never win, he also need never lose.
Units
Blue HorrorsBattleline · Daemon InfantrySpiteful blue daemons born from the splitting of a slain Pink Horror, cackling with malice as they hurl bolts of cerulean flame.
Chaos Spawn of TzeentchWarbeast · MonsterA gibbering ruin of ever-mutating flesh, a devotee whose body collapsed under Tzeentch's boundless gifts into a mindless engine of random change.
Exalted Flamers of TzeentchElite · DaemonGreater fire-daemons of Tzeentch that drift above the battlefield, raining down capricious, colour-shifting flame that burns whatever it is willed to burn.
Flamers of TzeentchRanged Support · DaemonBounding daemon-furnaces that spew mutating warpflame: fire that does not merely burn its victims, but rewrites them.
Kairic AcolytesBattleline · InfantryThe masked rank-and-file of the Arcanite cults: ambitious mortals who traded their futures for sorcery, fighting with curved blades in one hand and stolen magic in the other.
MagisterLeader · InfantryA mortal Arcanite sorcerer-lord who commands a cult of Kairic Acolytes, trading his soul by degrees for a share of Tzeentch's forbidden power.
Pink HorrorsBattleline · Daemon InfantryCackling daemons of pink change-fire whose deaths only multiply them: struck down, each splits into a pair of spiteful Blue Horrors, and despair does the rest.
Screamers of TzeentchFast Attack · Flying DaemonSky-shark daemons that shoal down the aetheric winds, drawn to concentrations of magic like blood in water.
Tzaangor EnlightenedElite · Disc CavalryTzaangors elevated by the Changer's insight, riding Discs of Tzeentch and striking with a prescience that borders on memory.
Tzaangor ShamanLeader · InfantryA horned beast-sorcerer who leads the Tzaangor flocks, hovering on a Disc as he channels the babbling, ever-changing magic of the Great Schemer.
Tzaangor SkyfiresCavalry · Daemon CavalryBeastmen of Tzeentch mounted on Discs who read the movements of the stars, loosing arrows that strike with impossible, fate-guided precision.
TzaangorsBattleline · InfantryAvian beastmen who regard their twisted forms as the god's highest favour: vain, cunning flocks that fall upon the unchanged with savage elegance.
Characters
FatemasterBlade of DestinyA favoured mortal champion of Tzeentch borne to war on a Disc, whose enchanted blade strikes with the certainty of a death already written in fate.
Kairos FateweaverThe Oracle of EternityThe greatest oracle of Tzeentch, a two-headed Lord of Change whose one head speaks all that has been and the other all that may yet come to pass.
The Blue ScribesThe Scriveners of TzeentchTwo bickering Blue Horrors on a runaway Disc, tasked with transcribing every spell in existence: one can write magic it cannot read, the other read magic it cannot write.
The ChangelingThe Trickster of TzeentchTzeentch's cruellest jest: a faceless daemon that does not impersonate its victims so much as replace them, often for years, sometimes forever.
The CurselingEye of TzeentchA mortal wizard fused with a chained Blue Horror, a twin-souled sorcerer who devours enemy spells and turns his own body into a duel of two wills.
The Gaunt SummonerLord of the Silver TowersOne of nine spindle-limbed daemon sorcerers who rule the Silver Towers: masters of ten thousand schemes, and slaves to the Everchosen who holds their true names.
Subfactions
Eternal ConflagrationA Changehost of daemons wreathed in transmuting warpflame, infamous for the shoals of Flamers that gather beneath its ever-shifting banners. The Eternal Conflagration does not raze its victims' works so much as revise them: where its fires pass, fortresses are left as gardens of screaming glass. Its coming is heralded by a horizon that burns in colours that have no names.
Hosts ArcanumA sky-borne convocation of sorcerers and daemons that hunts raw magic the way dragons hoard gold. Riding the aetheric currents between realms, the Hosts Arcanum snuff out rogue wizards, cage wandering spells, and add every prize to a treasury of power hidden among the storm-lanes. They descend on lightning-wracked wings wherever the winds of magic blow strongest.
Hosts DuplicitousDaemon legions of deception whose battles are lost by the enemy long before they are fought. The Hosts Duplicitous conquer through impostors, false parleys, and retreats that close like snares, and those who face them learn that the safest-looking road off the field is always the trap. Even their allies are never entirely certain which orders were truly theirs.
Transient FormA Change Coven that worships mutation as the purest sacrament, whose devotees pray nightly to be remade. Its cultists study their own reflections for the god's fingerprints, and its great flocks of Tzaangors are honoured as answered prayers rather than punishments. To the Transient Form, a stable body is simply a prayer Tzeentch has not answered yet.
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