Ethan's chariot, the demonic fel war machine, rumbled steadily across the land, its presence imposing but its pace anything but impressive. At best, it matched a sixty percent movement speed mount, painfully slow by current standards.
By now, almost everyone in the Northern Frontier had upgraded to full-speed mounts, which meant that more and more players were steadily catching up from behind, their banners and silhouettes stretching far into the distance as they trailed the Renegade Alliance's column.
"How far back is Blade Syndicate?" Ethan asked. He had not been idle during the march. Scouts, Druids and Rogues alike, had been dispatched forward and backward at regular intervals, keeping a constant flow of information coming in.
"About a hundred kilometers," Victor replied after checking the latest report. "They're moving fast."
"They're afraid of missing the show, huh?" Ethan said, nodding to himself.
