Tzaangors are what devotion to the Changer does to flesh, and they could not be prouder of it. Feathered, beaked, and crowned with sweeping horns, they consider themselves the corrected version of humanity, and they adorn that correction with gold: torcs, blades, and armour worked with a craftsmanship no mindless beast could match. Their vanity is earned — among all the creatures called beastmen, only Tzaangors plan.
A Tzaangor flock fights like a rumour, arriving from directions that should not exist and screeching philosophy as it kills. They despise the unchanged with a convert's fervour, and they take trophies not of meat but of craft — a duellist's sword, a magister's amulet — proof that everything the so-called civilized peoples value passes, in the end, to the changed.
Order of battle
