A draught of cold air issued forth, chilling the gathered soldiers to the bone. Ralf examined the sword, feeling its cold steel blade. It was fairly well-sharpened, and looked rather sturdy. He looked back at the fork in the tunnel, not knowing what to do.
"Just split yourselves up, balance of infantry and missile units. Go." The commander's voice echoed from the far back of the cave,
Ralf followed the sudden press of moving soldiers into the second tunnel. The second tunnel reeked of burning sulfur and cinnamon. The Stallions-at-arms marched forward, ahead of the missile units. The magi shuffled after Ralf and the crossbow-ponies. The tunnel wound, deeper down into the ground and ended in a room no smaller than the Ponyville Town Hall's announcement area. Bookshelves lined one of the walls, with a few books scattered about their dusty compartments. In a middle of the stone floor was a circle drawn in what seemed to be blood. The circle was quartered down the middle, much like a Viking era shield without its boss. A careless mage strode toward the shelves and picked up a book. He leafed through the book, and was surprised at the empty yellowed pages. He looked as if about to say something before suddenly letting out a blood curdling scream. The book had grown black thorned vines out of its spine and had now wrapped itself around the unlucky mage's forehoof. The mage frantically pulled the book off, scratching his arm terribly in the process, and threw down the red covered tome. The book levitated in the air for about a dozen heartbeats. All the while the gathered Stallions-at-arms, crossbow-ponies and magi stood rooted to the ground, shocked and fearful of this new sight. The other books rose out of their shelves, hovering out of their wooden holders. With the first hovering book, they formed an outer ring around the drawn circle in the ground. The Ponies gasped and quivered in sheer terror, to scared to move, as the books now began to slowly spin, starting to glow a dull bloody crimson. The smell of sulfur and cinnamon grew ever stronger, threatening to choke the soldiers, except they were too fearful to even draw in air into their quaking lungs and chilled body.
The books revolved slowly for a dozen more heartbeats before disappearing into a thick black inpenetrable mist that quickly swirled and materialised into black and red cloaked figures. At a closer glance one could make out the muscular features of an Orc under the cloaks and make out their telltale tusks jutting from their ugly dark-green lips, half hidden by the hooded cloaks. The cloaked Orcs raised their arms, tattooed nearly black with more Orcish runes. Bronze bracers protected their stocky wrists. The Orcs opened their eyes, unlike the regular white black and brown eyes most Orcs possessed, their enitre eyes burned a brilliant demonic red, it was as if their eyeballs of flesh were replaced with nothing but demonfire, the small flames lighting up the rest of their grim features. The fearsome new cloaked figures turned toward the gathered force and pointed fingers tipped with long black fingernails at the force. Sickly green fireballs issued forth from their green fingers and the first line of infantry vanished into grey ash. The Unicorn magi, sensing demonic magic at work, shoved their way to the front, blasting brilliant purple and blue bolts back at the cloaked Orcish warlocks. A couple warlocks caught the arcane bolts, disappearing into molten flesh and ash. The surviving warlocks ducked and dodged and rolled, speeding bolts of demonfire back at the stoic and valiant magi. Five of the warlocks broke ranks and formed another circle, raising their arms and chanting quickly. They chanted unnoticed amidst the frantic firefight that went on in the cavern. The Stallions-at-arms hung back, their melee weapons useless in missile combat. The crossbow-ponies, however, lent support, shooting over the heads of magi at the warlocks, whom numbered just thirty or so. Victory seemed certain.
The five unnoticed warlocks finished their chant and retracted their muscular arms. They drew in breath and let out a huge roar that shook the whole cavern, now filled with magical bolts, arrows and bolts alike. The cavern floor between the five warlocks cracked and shuddered. A red skinned fist broke through the floor, and up rose the rest of the arm. The owner of the arm had turned out to be an eight-foot-tall bulky beast. In its clawed hands it clutched a monstrous broad-bladed battleaxe. The monster turned its head, adorned with two long horned on either side of its foreheads and drew in a deep breath. It exhaled, releasing steam through its huge nostrils, decorated with a highly polished nose-ring. The monster took a look at the gathered Pony army, its eyes burning a brilliant yellowish-orange. It narrowed its eyes, glaring at the frightened soldiers.
"Did.... Th-the Orcs j-j-just... Summon a D-D-DAEMON??" A magi barely whispered.
Ralf crossed himself and nocked another arrow.