The Disciples of Tzeentch take a great many forms, from Arcanite cultists to hosts of gibbering daemons. Amongst their chanting ranks are bird-headed beastmen, horned monstrosities and many-eyed seers, all determined to capsize the reality of the Mortal Realms.
Warlock Bombardiers are those engineers who develop a particular penchant for weapons that deliver explosive death from extreme range. Their alchemical armaments cause utter devastation wherever they strike home.
The latest creations from the crazed laboratories of the Clans Skryre, Stormfiends are hulking brutes stitched together from a variety of body parts.
The Gutbusters exist as nomadic empires of warmongering ogors. Larger and stronger than most other races of the realms, they range across the lands robbing and raiding to keep their caravans filled with victuals.
Casting vindictive glares at their enemies and blasting them apart with mystical fire, Blue Horrors are as resentful and bitter as their pink cousins are gleeful and capricious.
Bloodpelt Hunters seek out the largest and most formidable creatures, stalking them unseen with the guile and ferocity of an alpha predator. When their quarry is within reach, these alarmingly stealthy ogors close in for the kill, maiming it with crude iron crossbow bolts before hacking it apart with axes and machetes.
Horrific examples of pure pestilence given form, Verminlord Corruptors live up to their name, existing only to despoil and corrupt.
Bounding in a disturbing fashion, Flamers of Tzeentch spring toward the foe spouting wyrdflame, the warpfire of Chaos itself. The supernatural flames writhe and leer, but most of all they burn, scorching the foe’s flesh, bones and soul.
A master of the wild steppes, a Frostlord leads his ogors into the battles that sustain them. Atop a Stonehorn he is virtually unstoppable, the hooves of his steed grinding enemies into paste. His booming voice directs his raiders to the most vulnerable flanks of the foe – where the Frostlord on Stonehorn rides, brutality follows.
The greatest of Tzeentch’s daemons, the Lords of Change shimmer with raw magic. With a flick of its claw, a Lord of Change can hurl foes into nightmares, or blast enemies with the wyrdfires of Tzeentch.
Driven into battle by their frenzied faith, the Plague Monks of Clan Pestilens are a repulsive tidal wave of filth that smashes into their enemies with the power of a flood.
Ogors Mawtribes sweep across the realms and devour all in their migratory path, juggernauts of fat and muscle who crush their prey with clubs, rusted blades, and sheer bulk. When the ogors are on the Mawpath, the ground rumbles even above their prodigious bellies. Roars, belches, and booming laughs ring out as they charge, their battering-ram impact a weapon in itself. Mighty warglutts heed the call of blood-smeared shamans, while Beastclaw Raiders ride to battle on behemoths that hail from the cursed blizzard of the Everwinter. To stand in their path is to be devoured.