To the Change Coven called Transient Form, the flesh is a prayer, and a prayer unanswered is a rebuke. Its cultists worship mutation as the purest sacrament Tzeentch offers, and each night they kneel before their own reflections, searching the skin for the god's fingerprints: a new-budded eye, a scaling of the hand, a bone bent where no bone should bend. To find such a change is rapture; to wake unaltered is to fear one has been forgotten by the only power that matters.
Where the faithless see corruption, the Transient Form see grace made visible. They exalt their mightiest mutants and honour their great flocks of Tzaangors not as punishments but as answered prayers, beastmen sculpted by divine attention into something nearer the god's own restless nature. The coven holds that a stable body is merely a petition Tzeentch has not yet troubled to grant, and its devotees strive to make themselves worth granting through ritual, sacrifice, and change-touched waters that as often kill as transform. This is a faith of glad self-annihilation, and it makes them terrible to face, for a warrior who welcomes his own unmaking cannot be cowed by the threat of it, and every wound taken in the god's name might be the beginning of the answer he has prayed his whole life to receive.
Order of battle
The Transient Form 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.
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.
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