Rumbling~
General Renault Litchfield
Twelvestones
The blood-red fingers of a cloudless dawn raked the plains of Twelvestones, trailing its scarlet tinge over the c*****e left by the night. Litchfield’s underlings avoided his eyes as they reported the body count.
“The Firstborn are making fools of us,” he fumed. “They flaunt their Puppetmaster sorcery before our very eyes. And what does my army do? Falls to its knees and watches as they destroy my siege tower. They allow the demons to come and go as they please. Our damned worthless guards haven’t set eyes on one of the inhuman beasts, yet they prowl our camps with their blades every night.”
“Nenes are known for their stealth, my liege,” a lieutenant muttered at the ground.
“They do have the advantage of familiar territory,” said anot
