The Hosts Duplicitous win their battles before the first blade is drawn, often without the enemy ever grasping that a battle was fought at all. These daemon legions are the deceiver's aspect of Tzeentch made war, and they hold the crude business of killing to be a confession of failure, for why break a foe by force when he can be induced to break himself? Impostors wearing borrowed faces, parleys offered in perfect faith and honoured in none, retreats that draw the pursuer sweetly into a closing snare: these are their weapons.
A commander who faces them learns too late to distrust his own certainties. The gap that opened so conveniently in the daemon line was an invitation; the safe road off the field was the trap all along. By the time the trick is understood, the survivors are left wondering how a certain victory curdled into rout. Most unsettling is what the Hosts do to the mind of an alliance: orders altered in the giving, messengers replaced, grudges kindled between allies who cannot afterward recall who first gave offence. Those who fight beside a warband of the Duplicitous, a rare and regretted circumstance, are never quite certain when the smoke clears which of the day's decisions were truly their own.
Order of battle
The Hosts Duplicitous field the units of the Disciples of Tzeentch, a detachment from the roster:
Other Disciples of Tzeentch formations
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.
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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