Chapter 5: Volume 1: Chapter 5
Lost Lion
Disclaimer! I don't own warcraft, it is the property of blizzard.
Volume 1: Chapter 5
***Elwynn Forest***
What was the difference between a footman on horse and an actual knight? A lot. I found that unlike real life, a knight did not necessarily mean a noble. Instead, it was a rank of your skill. For many enlisted soldiers, it was the ultimate height that they hoped to achieve. As for me, I knew how to ride; I was taught by Lothar during one of our rarer bonding moments when I was a child. I could not, however, ride or control a horse in the same way that my father did.
It was a shame that while I knew how to take care of a horse, and they were friendly to me, I could not use them fully like a knight. Instead, the best I could do now was be a reservist for cavalrymen. A cavalryman, unlike a knight, can ride a horse with skill, but could not fight on horseback that well or control their horse as deftly. However, just because they were not as good as a knight did not mean that they were not proficient on horseback. Most importantly, cavalrymen are faster than armies on foot. That was also why I was currently on a horse riding at almost breakneck speed toward the capital.
The last message we got was that Stormwind was facing an imminent attack from a force of at least thirty thousand. However, even if they make it to the gates before my forces could arrive, the enemy would have to contend with Stormwind's walls and its nine thousand defenders. That meant that we had time, but–because the majority of the legion were on foot–the knights, cavalrymen, and cavalry reserves were all ordered to go on ahead in order to relieve the pressure on the Stormwind City.
Speed was essential.
The standard legion usually had sixty knights attached and two hundred cavalry, with fifty cavalry riders in reserve. That put the mounted forces at roughly one thousand five hundred horsemen. I was in that reserve, though I showed more aptitude for 'ground and pound,' so to speak.
"We passed the final checkpoint! Everyone, get ready!" Knight-Champion Wice, a large man with a powerful presence, yelled as we passed the final road marker that indicated that we were five miles away from Stormwind City.
The road we were on was a paved dirt road, but it was well maintained and was thirty feet wide. It allowed for more to travel on said road, allowing our formation to switch easier due to the larger space.
There was a shift in the thousand strong cavalry forces as the men started looking more alert. Long lances were taken out by the cavalrymen, while the knights held their lance in one hand and a deadly looking mace in the other. For this particular engagement, thanks to my skill in marksmanship, I was designated ranged support. I unslung my bow from my back and checked my four quivers–one on my back and three on my side saddle. That gave me a total of two hundred arrows to work with, though I wasn't lacking for melee armaments. I took my plated fist and thumped it on Aloman's shoulder, letting her know that I was moving to the back of the formation with the other ninety nine mounted archers.
"Be careful, Callan." Aloman's eyes met mine through the 'T' shape slit in her helmet, willing me to exact a promise. I could see that she was nervous so I assured her with a nod.
"I will, Ally." I stuck my tongue out playfully and saw her face take a shocked countenance before it soon became an angry one. She hated that nickname, but it was a great ice breaker. I nudged my horse to slow down and saw the other knights begin to ride past me.
"Ho, Corporal Lothar!" Sergeant Major Wilhem from the 21st legion greeted me as I settled into the rear.
"Sir," I greeted in reply to my superior.
"You will be with the first draw. If the situation deteriorates, fire at will, but we stick to the formation first. Understood?" Sergeant Major Wilhem's question was directly not just me but to every other archer around.
"Aye, sir."
"Got it Sarge!"
"Sir!"
I saw the archers double checking their bowstring for tautness. It might have looked a bit strange for them to do these checks on a fast moving horse, but that was why they were selected. We had more archers of course, but they couldn't fight on horseback. The odd ones out were the soldiers who were checking their crossbows to make sure they were already loaded. These were mostly scouts who needed a quick defensive weapon to create a separation for a quick getaway. They were in the very rearmost behind us and only needed to warn us if anyone tried to outflank us.
Judging by the position of the sun, it looks like it was about none, its beam pierce through the forest and lit up the very dense forest. I checked my gnomish-made pocket watch that I had gotten from my father by mail on my twelfth birth- sorry, here it's called name day, for the actual time. Just past twelve p.m. Thankfully, like the game, Azeroth had the same exact rotation as earth: twenty four hours in a day, seven days in a week, three hundred and sixty five days in a year.
"The city towers!" Knight-Champion Wice pointed into the distance. It was maybe two miles out before we would enter the general territory in front of Stormwind itself.
I glanced around and saw frayed nerves and could understand why. There hadn't been a major engagement in decades. Yes, we were trained and had blooded ourselves with skirmishes, but to face such a large force?
For me, while I was also nervous, it was actually about something else. I knew that I would be using my magic today–there was no way that I wouldn't be–and that would make me a prime target for those orc warlock twats.
"I think, if possible, we should focus on their spellcasters first if we see them," I suggested to Sgt. Major Wilhem. First ironclad rule of warcraft, spell casting squishies must always die first. No exceptions!
The man looked at me curiously.
"How do you know if they have spell chuckers?"
"An army of that size attacking the city? I'm all but certain that they have spellcasters. Even our legions have spell casters so why wouldn't they?"
I had zero proof so I tried to go the logical route. We had mages, sorry, conjurers of our own within the legion. They were mid-tier at best; no transport spell like in WoW yet. Each legion had ten attached to them and because they were so squishy, they had to stay with the main army that was marching on foot.
Wilhem looked thoughtful for a minute before he nodded his head in agreement.
"You heard Corporal Lothar; keep your eyes out for those spell chuckers. They're priority kills!"
"Good thinking, Lothar," Knight-Champion Wice who must have heard it praised me before he looked around and roared out more orders.
"They're to be killed on sight!"
"The forest!" A knight shouted to notify the group that the time for talk was over.
The once dense forest of Elwynn in front of Stormwind City was beginning to thin out. The land had already been deforested greatly, and it wasn't long before we saw our first orc. They were chopping at the trees with crude axes before our hoofbeat made them look up at us dumbly. A second later they tossed their axes and ran.
"Kill them!" Knight-Champion Wice bellowed as the knights took to the center of the formation.
The cavalrymen like Aloman flanked either side of them. The way they positioned themselves was also different. Where before they were sitting on the horse alert, now they shifted forward like a jockey with a lance cocked back a little past their waist. Meanwhile, the mounted archers started to aim at the scattering green peons.
They were easily killed, peons it turns out weren't very brave,they never tried to fight back even as their fellows lumberers were killed. Between us archers and the scouts, all of the peons that had been chopping down Elwynn's trees were killed. It wasn't long before we came into a wide clearing and made contact with the enemy.
I heard them before I saw them. There were chants of some kind and bellowing roars of others. There, in the shadow of Stormwind's walls was a huge army of orcs. All of those fantasy movies where they showed huge CGI armies could not compare to being faced with the real deal. I took in the situation and the first thing I noticed was arrows from the city's watchtowers firing down into the attacking army with dozens upon dozens of orcs climbing the siege ladders for every one the Stormwind defenders pushed away three more hooked onto the castle walls. On top of the wall itself, I saw blue and silver mix in with green and brown skins. The fighting must have been fierce up there on the parapet. Finally, there were huge battering rams, carried by orges that were in linking chains, knocking on the city walls over and over again.
That's when I remembered the ogres weren't utilized until the second war due to the heavy losses the Horde suffered in the first war. This war.
"We made it..." Knight Wice whispered in relief.
It took us five days, but we finally made it here. We rode our mounts hard, burning through a hundred miles a day. The average speed was fifty miles a day, while pushing it a bit would be seventy five normally. Fantasy horses, like their human counterparts, also had high stamina and endurance.
"Aanuk!"
The sight of us incited a bunch of angry shouting, chest thumping, and foot stomping. It was one thing to hear it in the game or even at an Imax theater, but it was a very different thing seeing and hearing the Horde in real life.
"Formations!" Knight-Champion Wice shouted and, like clockwork, a single file line of four hundred horses stretched across the battlefield. Thanks to the horde clearing the trees in the area, we were able to spread our lines out further.
"Hooah!" the soldiers shouted, letting Wice know that they were ready as the second and third line formed up.
"Charge!" Wice demanded with a roar.
"For Stormwind and the King!" Our armored horses began a dead run toward the green tide that was swarming toward us.
Someone somewhere took out a bugle and blew on it. From the walls of Stormwind, a similar one resounded back.
The sound of a thousand horse riding together was one thing, but the sound of it thundering at a dead sprint toward an object was almost indescribable. I could feel the ground shaking from the stampede of our forces and the orcs running toward us.
"Archers!" Wilhem shouted as we nocked back our arrows and got increasingly closer to the charging horde.
The orcs roared as they came closer, but all I heard was 'rah rah rah rah rah' so there was a language barrier. Orcish would be a thing I would have to learn later on if I wanted to understand them.
When there was just a hundred yards between the two forces, Wilhem unleashed us.
"FIRE!"
As one, fifty arrows, mine included, flew three hundred yards, and not even three seconds later, the second set of fifty fired. There were yells of outraged anger as the arrows rained down on the center of the oncoming orcs. We needed to soften the middle for our cavalry charge.
A cavalry charge was a thing of beauty, and it all comes down to one simple thing.
Physics.
Weight plus speed equaled the momentum that the cavalry would strike the orcs with. Meanwhile, we weakened the orcs' opposing power by thinning out the center with our archers. I saw dozens of spears being hurled at us. Many of them were parried, but some got hit and fell off their horse. Some even got lucky and hit the horses in vulnerable areas, such as the eyes or between the armor gaps on their body. One even missed my face but struck someone behind me. I turned around while still firing and saw it was a scout who was holding onto the spear in his stomach.
"Argh!" the archer grunted. I quickly extended my arm and with a quick chant–didn't even take a second–and one barely noticeable gold flash later, viola. All healed up.
"W-what?" The scout looked at me with wide eyes.
"Focus, soldier!" I shouted at him before I turned back and resumed firing.
Fifty yards.
The front line was taking up a familiar position seen in medieval jousting.
Forty yards.
All the knights lowered their lances to point directly at the oncoming horde. Even with spears raining down on them they kept a steady momentum. Thanks to the speed they were riding, a lot of the spears missed their target or skid off their plate armor due to the orcs' spearmen misjudging their moving target.
Thirty yards.
"Fire at will!" came Wilhem's command. In other words, shoot at the enemy wherever you can.
Twenty.
I was drawing and shooting at the orcs by our left flanks. Every shot of mine always managed to hit someone. Not that it killed them. Orcs were big and tough; it would take more than just one arrow to bring them down unless they were shot in a vital area. Still, inflicting a wound was better than not.
Ten…
"ONWARD! FOR STORMWIND!" Knight-Champion Wice roared.
Impact.
KARRKAROOOM!
It was the most deafening sound I ever heard, even more than the loud bass speakers in a club. Thousands of metal and flesh striking one another.
There were cries of surprise and screams of pain from the orcs due to the impact. As expected, the weakened center of the orcs allowed the cavalry to completely destroy the attacking point of the orcs. Four hundred orcs were instantly killed on first contact. The impact slowed the first line down momentarily, but that allowed the second line to ride past and destroy a second serving. Then finally, the third lancer line struck the horde.
Hundreds of orcs died just like that, though it was hard to accurately tell. However, that was not the end. Using as much leftover momentum as possible, we continued to ride through the shocked orc horde. Broken lances were tossed aside as mace and swords were drawn. The shock of the attack disoriented the orcs as the second punch came. A little over a thousand armored horses used their brute strength to knock the orc grunts down. Before many of the fallen orcs could get up, the rest of the horses from the second and third line trampled on their body.
However, like with all charges, once sufficient resistance was encountered, there was no stopping a slow-down. Knight-champion Wice must have sensed it.
"Break and regroup–ahhh!"
A green energy struck him, causing him to cry out in pain. I knew what it was even before I even found the spellcaster.
"Caster!" I shouted as I fired my arrow at the warlock. It struck his body and brought his attention to me. It was readying to cast another spell before another dozen arrows turned him into a pincushion.
Of course, that incensed the orcs, almost as if they were offended that we killed their warlock.
Well, yeah? Tough shit. I fired a second arrow directly into the face of a grunt that tried to grab my leg to pull me off my horse. I kicked him away with my plated boot for good measure.
"Break and regroup!" Knight Wice had recovered, but his armor was still emitting some kind of smoke.
The majority of the group was able to retreat and trampled on any wounded orcs, killing those that they missed the first time. The orcs gave chase, but the horses were faster. We wanted them to chase us, of course, since the more orcs that chased us, the less pressure there would be on Stormwind city.
This was also when the archers shined. We kept on peppering the orc surge with arrows and allowed our soldiers to fall back. Unfortunately, with how big the orcs were, a single arrow was not going to kill them. Suddenly, thirty or so spears sailed into the air, aimed specifically at our group.
"Enemy fire!" I shouted as I took my shield from my mount's side and held it up. I heard the 'thunk' sound of it punching into my shield.
"Argh!" One of the spears struck a man right through the face. To my surprise, it was the scout I had saved earlier.
"Fuck," I cursed as I checked the wound and saw that the entire face was caved in. More importantly, the brain was mush.
From Anduin's skill set, I knew resurrection was possible, but there were restrictions. First, it required a full minute of undisturbed chanting. Second, the death had to be fresh, a few minutes at best. Finally, the brain had to be intact. A soul could be brought back if the head didn't get destroyed, but once the brain was demolished, it severed the connection to the soul.
I don't know why that was the rule, but it just was.
"Lothar! We're falling back!" Wilhem reminded me and, with a curse, I rode out in time to miss another wave of thrown spears.
We led them on a chase, playing tag with our arrows to keep them angered enough to keep following us. When their lines were spread out enough along the roads and forest, the main cavalry force turned around and charged at them, wrecking a devastating harvest. To use a gamer term, we kited their asses. I did note that the green ones were quicker to anger. Most likely the Fel magic blood lust thingy.
"Fall back!" Wice's orders came again and once more, we ran away as the Horde roared and cursed us, no doubt.
We continued to bait the Horde by keeping them four hundred yards apart from us. Their spears' range was always out of reach. However, when we saw a segment of the Horde break away from the mass of orcs, we struck.
"Formation!"
Immediately, the knights stopped and turned to face the orc.
"Charge!"
And once again, hundreds of mounted soldiers slammed into the unsuspecting orcs, hacking away with their greatswords or crushing orc heads with their maces. I was pretty sure that, after two hours of this, the Horde would forever remember the two words 'Formation' and 'Charge'.
Unfortunately, because of the nature of the fight, when a mounted soldier was killed, we usually had to leave them behind.
At this point, Elwynn's once clean roads were littered with dead orcs. It hurt to leave them there, but those were our orders: relieving Stormwind no matter the cost. After several hours of our bait and hit tactics, we had lost over five hundred cavalrymen, of which only seventy were knights.
However, there were a lot more dead orc bodies than those of Stormwind soldiers. I would say for every dead Stormwind soldier, there were twenty orc bodies killed in exchange.
"It's getting dark, and the scouts are late." Wice's adjutant, a knight whose name escaped me, commented as we all bunched up on the road, eating and drinking as fast as humanly possible. More importantly, we were resting our horses.
"Those damn greenskins might have had enough after the way we bled them out!" Another Knight named Graves cried out in joy even though he was panting.
"Yay..." I muttered under my breath as I drew my greatsword. My arrows were all used up during the last engagement. I looked around to assess the situation and concluded that we were in bad shape.
The knights were still ready to go, even though they were visibly gulping for air. The rest, however, hung on through sheer determination.
I would love to heal them, but in a word, my mana was too low. There was no mana bar for me or anything for me to see. Instead, I was able to tell from how low I felt my stamina was, and I could tell it was very low indeed. Sure, a mana potion would solve my dilemma, but my dumbass self derped and forgot about it. No, that would be a lie; I never really thought about getting mana potion because I had presumed that Anduin's Legendary Skillset could do without. My hubris was thinking that I knew all about the WoW world was really stupid and arrogant of me.
This was the game world, and the WoW game itself never mentioned Lothar's son in any of its works. He could have been killed off screen like Calia, Arthas sister. Now that I thought about it, we both had names that started with C-A-L and were somewhat royalty.
Why did I feel like I was really fucked?
"The woods!" Wilhem, one of the lucky surviving archers, pointed out.
"The road!" another knight cried out in alarm.
"Well, that explains why the scouts never reported back," Wilhem huffed resignedly.
"Clever girl…" I muttered under my breath as wolf riders came out of the woodwork, literally, surrounding us who were on the road. A lot of fucking wolf riders.
"We're surrounded," a hoarse feminine voice spoke up next to me.
I was surprised to see Aloman next to me. When did she get there? Nevermind that. I assessed the situation and had to agree; there seemed to be more wolf riders than Stormwind soldiers.
One of the wolf riders came closer, and it was a lucky thing I had my helmet on as my jaw dropped. I recognized the brown skinned orc with the white wolf belt covering his head from the movie. It was Thrall's daddy himself, Durotan.
He–and he alone–rode a bit closer to us and began to speak a few words in orcish. It wasn't long, but it ended with a fist thump to the chest and a nod of his head.
"Anyone of you understood that?" Wilhem asked, confused.
"He was probably acknowledging our warrior spirits for killing so many of his people," I said tiredly and felt the other knights and soldiers looking at me skeptically.
"You really think so?" Knight Wice asked in an almost surprised tone.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure," I confirmed. They didn't have to believe me of course, but anyone could interpret that body language. From the Kingdom's limited experience, trolls, gnolls, and other creatures didn't have the concept of human respect or honor so they would not naturally attribute it to the orcs. For Durotan to do so must have taken them aback.
Of course, that was if they chose to believe my interpretation. I saw Knight-Champion Wice make a decision as he rode out ahead of the group, causing the other wolves to growl.
"Hey! You!" Knight Wice shouted, making Durotan turn around. Wice then proceeded to return the chest thumping gesture before he gave him the knightly sword salute by raising said sword to his face with a tight nod in the orc direction.
Durotan looked stunned before he chuckled and raised his axe.
"Lok'tar Ogar!" He roared and the other wolf riders echoed it in unison. He rode back to his line and started to hype up his troops.
"My brothers and sisters! We make our last stand!" Knight Wice roared. "For Stormwind!"
"FOR STORMWIND!" The remaining knights roared which seemed to please the orcs as they roared some more in response as if trying to drown out the humans battlecry.
I heard Aloman shout loudly right next to me, and I couldn't believe it but actually felt somewhat invigorated. Could this be the fame rally cry? Wait, wasn't there a time limit on rally cry?
Now that I felt stronger, fuck this shit. I was not going to do no god damn final stand. That extra boost of stamina allowed me to use a lot of Anduin's skill, but there was only one worthed draining all of my mana and stamina for. I dropped my sword and reached out to the sky calling upon the light, for strength, for healing…and for salvation.
Holy Word: Salvationto be exact.
"DRAENEI!"
Didn't need to understand orcish to know what that meant. Durotan sounded pretty surprised though. He must have recognized the golden glow around me. I looked up at the light, and it was blinding.
It probably wasn't as big and flashy as Anduin's, but it should be enough for me to cover the remaining mounted soldiers.
"Callan?" Aloman sounded worried.
I could feel it. The Light responded to my call, but there was a cost. It needed every ounce of my mana and stamina to work, and I willingly gave it.
Fatigue hit me like a ton of bricks.
"Sorry, but this will be the best I can do for now," I apologized in advance as I felt whatever rally cry Knight Wice did was slowly wearing off.
"What are you–?" Aloman began until a fount of light struck my hand and a golden dome of light manifested, covering not only the soldiers but illuminating the forest.
"What in the light–"
"My wounds he–"
"I feel stronge–"
"What did he–"
"Lothar's son!"
It only lasted five seconds, but it was enough as the light cut off.
"Whew." I caught myself from sagging off on my horse.
"Callan?" Aloman looked at me in amazement. She knew that I could do magic, but she never saw me pull something off so flashy.
I tiredly gave her a thumbs up. Aloman was about to say something when I saw five black color flashes that stood out even in the shadow forest. So, with adrenaline I didn't know I still had, I pushed Aloman off her horse and was hit by five shadow spear attacks.
"Callan!"
I knew I fell off my horse as I was face down on the ground. I heard an angry orc talk as darkness closed in on me. The pain was bad, but the little bit of holy light in me had already nullified the worst of it.
"CALLAN!"
"Damn beasts!" I heard the Knight-champion roar. "Charge! For Stormwind, for the King!"
"Avenge Lothar!" someone else said.
What?
"For Lothar!"
I wanted to tell them I wasn't dead, and I would do just that when I woke up as my vision turned black.
*** Past , Present, Future, Cavern of Time***
Chronormu of the Bronze Dragonflight was working on finding her father when she frowned. Unlike her other brother and sister who liked to take a high elven form, she much preferred the adorable gnomes and often went among them with the name of Chromie.
"That's strange," she mused as she felt a tiny quake in the time stream. It seemed to have originated from the Eastern Kingdom. So she looked at the time stream and, to her shock, saw it was split.
The epicenter seemed to be when the orcs invaded. In one timeline, she saw them attack just like how it originally happened. They stormed Stormwind Castle, but were beaten back. In another, Lothar had managed to attack them by surprise from the sea. In a third, the orcs sneak attacked and went after the outer human settlements, not even bothering to attack the city. She checked it again and again, but after the tenth variation, she decided she needed a second opinion.
"Sa'at!" A well known hero of their brood raised his head and looked at her. Unlike her, he preferred a high elven form and was currently wearing Farstrider clothing which consisted of a simple bronze color chainmail over leather jerkin.
"Yes sister?" the high elf disguised Bronze dragon asked politely.
"There seems to be a time quake in the Eastern Kingdom when the Dark Portal opened. There's like a dozen split versions of that event. What do you think we should do?" Chromie presented an hourglass that looked normal to mortals but for the bronze flight, it allowed them to view the time stream. She highlighted the time-quake and presented the time period to him in her hand.
Sa'at furrowed his eyebrows before he pursed his lips. Soon, his expression turned into one of enlightenment.
"Oh, that!" Sa'at replied and smiled at her. "That was my doing, sister."
"Yours?" Chromie asked, perplexed. "You're messing with the past?!"
"Not I, sister dear." Sa'at sighed resignedly. "It was the Infinite flight; they tried to destroy a critical junction in history. The anchor point."
Chromie looked horrified. "What happened?"
"They tried to kill Medivh before he could open the Dark Portal," Sa'at answered.
Chromie's mouth opened in shock. "That–that would ruin everything! Why didn't you call us?"
Sa'at gave a self-deprecating laugh. "There was no time,sister dear. However, I was able to gather a group of five powerful champions to help ensure the Dark Portal's opening."
"Oh." Chromie exhaled in real relief. "That's good."
"The time quake you felt might just be the collapse of the failed timeline the Infinite flight tried to bring about. The echoes through time will soon calm down. Look, see how all the threads eventually merged with the main timeline later?"
"But…" Chromie was still uncertain.
"If it puts your mind at ease, let's check one of the anchors," Sa'at offered as he held up his own hourglass and casted a spell.
One moment, they were in the Cavern of time. The next, they were shades looking at the past to observe one of the most important moments in history. It was the second anchor to their victory against the Legion and so many other threats.
The fall of Stormwind.
"See, sister?" As the two dragons stood in the destroyed city of Stormwind ,orcs could be seen butchering the populace, dragging them from their homes. One orc held a human woman by her hair and dragged her crying and screaming through the shade forms of Sa'at and Chromie, showing that the denizen could not see or touch them.
"Stormwind is still destroyed. Is your mind at ease now?"
Chromie took out her own hourglass, and the scene seemed to rewind a few days back to another place in time, the throne room. There a traumatized Varian Wrynn being comforted as the body of Llane could be seen. There was a hole in the back of his chest, and his heart was missing. It was important for Gul'dan to consume Llane's heart.
"He remains dead. Everything is as it should be," Sa'at confirmed much to Chromie relief.
"Everything is as it should be," Chromie agreed.
Maybe she was worried for nothing after all.
TBC
AN: For my fanfic readers, its been a long time. I know, I know, but life gets in the way and take you to the unexpected places. I am glad I finished some storys sad I didn't complete others. I leave all of my stories open because perhaps I would feel the creative bite and inspiration to go back and finish it off. Homo Superior is one I think about but nothing that marvel have done since then have really inspire me to write their stories in recent years. I find myself do collaboration more with Icura, another fanfic author more so for a while I got use to dual writing. Lets see how my solo works do. Thank you for reading and as always C+C always welcome.
Now onto this actual chapter notes.
First thanks to Icura for helping out with the editing, without whom, I could not do without. Other than that, thanks for all those that read, commented and had a pretty robust discussion. Really appreciate the interest!
I researched horse speed and how fast a mounted army could move. I found that historically Genghis khan's mounted army moved 130 miles in two days. Using that as the average speed for a warcraft fantasy world, I upped the speed. I put that disclaimer here in case complaints of realism reared its ugly head. It is high fantasy, everything is a cut above the real world version. Also a modern day Arabian horse do participate in 100 miles races in a day. Its a full 24 hours to get 100 miles. I made that type of horse endurance average in Wow, and warhorses being a cut above. So 16 hours of travel 8 hours rest.