The Daemons of Tzeentch are the most alien of the four hosts, for their master is the god of change itself, and change is woven into their very substance. Nothing about them is stable: their colours run and reform, their bodies split and multiply, and their intentions are impossible to predict because they are pawns in schemes of impossible complexity. Tzeentch is the Great Conspirator, and every daemon he sends into realspace serves some fragment of a plan spanning millennia.
The backbone of his legions are the pink horrors, cackling sorcerers who hurl warp-fire and divide into lesser forms when struck, along with the swift screamers and the towering lords of change who command from on high. Where other daemons rely on blade or blight, Tzeentch's servants weaponise fate, twisting probability and unleashing torrents of raw magic. They delight in the confusion they sow, and even their apparent defeats often prove to be moves in a longer game. An army that seems to have broken a Tzeentchian host may discover, too late, that its destruction was the plan all along.
Order of battle
The Daemons of Tzeentch field the units of the Chaos Daemons, a detachment from the roster:
Other Chaos Daemons formations
Daemons of KhorneThe Daemons of Khorne are wrath made manifest, the martial legions of the Blood God who prizes only slaughter honestly won in close combat. Their hosts advance in disciplined tides of brass-clad flesh, uttering the war-cries of their master and answering every act of violence in realspace by straining harder against the veil. They despise trickery and sorcery, seeking always the purest expression of murder: skull taken, blood spilled, and offered to the throne of brass.
Daemons of NurgleThe Daemons of Nurgle are the joyful children of decay, shambling hosts who spread pestilence with something close to affection. They embody the endurance of life through suffering, the resilience that outlasts despair, and the grim comfort of accepting the inevitable. Slow, patient, and all but impossible to destroy through attrition, they advance in cheerful multitudes, their bloated forms wreathed in flies, laughing as they gift the living with rot beyond counting.
Daemons of SlaaneshThe Daemons of Slaanesh are perfection turned to poison, exquisite and lethal servants of the Dark Prince of pleasure and excess. They embody obsession, sensation, and the pursuit of experience past every limit. Faster than mortal thought and beautiful in a way that wounds the mind, they dance through battle lines in a lethal ballet, drowning their victims in overwhelming sensation and claiming souls that have known both agony and rapture as one.
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