Among the flocks, a few Tzaangors are singled out for elevation, and the change the god works on them is not of flesh but of sight. The Enlightened perceive the strands of what-has-been with impossible clarity: every feint an enemy has ever thrown, every habit drilled into a swordsman's wrists, every lie in a battle-line's posture. To fight one is to duel an opponent who has studied you your whole life.
The greatest of them ride Discs of Tzeentch, sharp-finned constructs of frozen change that carry them above the fray in shrieking arcs, though many stalk the ground on tall spear-glaives among their lesser kin. Flocks revere them as living proof of the covens' promise — that change is ascent — and their pronouncements, delivered in croaking aphorisms, steer entire wars.
Order of battle
