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The final wurm, before taking the last of the shots, managed to get out one more blast of acid, aiming at where Dante would land from his jump. Sadly, the wurm would never see the fruits of it's efforts, as the bullets ripped through it's skull.

3/5 wurms down

Azrael's journal -- before the destruction of Luray

The army of night marches...
In my throne of corpses,
In macabre I feel duly deprived.

This is a world of night and light,
Where only the fittest can flex their might.

I once chanted the alma mater of this place,
But now I have fallen from grace.

I carry nothing inside of me anymore; no loyalty or pride.
I have become hatred, anger and lust. The death of me is surely a must.

This city has lost its set of lungs. I'm responsible. It's all me.
A city that once held its tongue... Screams fouls at my name. I hear their pleas.

But I don't care. I just want their blood.
And the wurms supply me a flood.

I write this final note to my beloved mother, Queen Elizabeth. I fear that wurms and other horrible things rest at our doorsteps, and -- I can't hold them back anymore. I don't know how they've managed to constantly come at us. I've killed so many of them, with this army of undead. An army that I've created from our endlessly falling comrades. I don't know if I even deserve to use their bodies to protect the others. It seems like everyone hates me now. Whether they think I failed the city, or have resorted to the abominable in resorting to necromancy, they hate me.

They all ******** hate me, so I've decided to leave them all to die. I could've saved them -- a final bang where I would've used my magic to free them all. Perhaps even at my own cost. I would've died for them, once. But I hate them all now. They can see what the city will be like without me. I can only assure them their demise.

I cannot bring myself to leave this place without you, though, mother. You were the only one to ever give me a chance. You weren't even my real parent, and yet granted me this whole, wonderful life. I feel like I've been blessed in thousands of repeating ways, I -- can't imagine anyone I've ever cared for more than you. So, I want to bring you and your memory with me. I'm not sure if you'll be the same as you used to be, but you'll be alive again. You'll have your body back.

I know some people might be disturbed by my choice of action, but I don't believe that there is an afterlife. I believe that we only have one chance, and I want to give you another. Even if you're different than you used to be, it's something, right? I learned this magic from an old... friend, of mine. You might not recognize me when you emerge, I look very different from before. More attractive. Taller. Quite frankly I like the change. Oh, and I'm a vampire now, try not to get creeped out. It's a long story, I'll tell ya later. Well, I think I should wrap up this little editorial note. I doubt you'll ever read it, but it's here in my journal if you go snooping. I'm so excited to have you back, mom. I really -- really missed you.

Azrael's actions -- two hours before the destruction of Luray

"Mother of mercy, father of justice," he knelt before the altar, his hands clenched together to pray. "I apologize for robbing you of this humble servant, but I cannot do without her. I know that one of you has a plan for me, otherwise I would've never gotten this far. From a lost boy with no one to love with a whole Kingdom of men and women who once adored me..." he frowned. "I'm sorry, but I must take with me this woman -- royal and virtuous Elizabeth." He didn't really know what to say. All of this was contradicting what he had just written -- about there being no life after life.

But he was a little afraid. He didn't want to anger the divine, if they were real. There was just too much incentive to take Elizabeth. The power she'd give him. The companionship. He couldn't resist. He stepped over to the tomb, manipulating the Queen's bones with puppet-like fingers. He dragged her bones over to the altar, connecting them all together. A large bag full of the necessities for this ritual rested near her body. He remembered her perfectly. Her face, those fuzzy little ears. The divine skin she had. He tied the meat to her bones, the organs into her being. The skin came shortly after, as he wrapped it around and around with his magic. The spell was very complex, but he'd become accustomed to its power. The acknowledgement that his mother could return to him was enough to get him through this. Get him through the disgust, that had almost made him vomit outright. Even as a necromancer, he couldn't handle all of this... putrid...

He finished with all of it; reassembling her body. She looked brand new, almost, although only by a corpse's standards. He'd have to fix her up if he wanted her to... mesh. That came later in the spell. The pentagram had been drawn with the blood of that b***h Gerwyn, who had become his most hated person in his time here. Whatever blood was left inside of her after Azrael had drained it would help to return Elizabeth's divinity. The pentagram was truly beautiful. Azrael had a talent with blood -- it was so symmetrical. He would've spent more time admiring his craftsmanship, but time was certainly of the essence. The villagers would find him here if he waited for too long. Surely, as they were being slaughtered by wurms at this very moment, they would've liked to enact their vengeance upon the failure King.

He began to search. There was not a doubt in his mind, when he came to enter the underworld. He'd been here once before, when learning this ability. A horrible place. If this was where Elizabeth had come to after death, this was a rescue mission. He had to save her from the darkness. The souls around him attacked him, bullied him, they wanted to take over. The mental discipline he had gained through many years as a necromancer and mage kept him on. Some of the souls were more violent than the others. These were the souls of the recently dead, who had not yet succumbed to the eternal despair that was this place. They still had fight in them. They wanted to be free. Unfortunately, though, Azrael didn't really care. They'd have to get in line.

He searched deep through this never-ending sea, lit on by what seemed like a beacon. The familiar feeling of Elizabeth drew closer, and closer, until he was smothered in it. It wasn't a warm feeling, though. He could tell that her time here had destroyed what she had in life -- that spark in her. He had to bring it back. He connected their souls together, trying to pull her out through the sea like a lifeguard. It was so hard though. She was so full of despair, it was as if he was dragging vast iron through the mud. And the souls around him continued to assault his mind. God -- this place got worse and worse by the second. Elizabeth started to feel different. As if she, too, were trying to take over. He had to fight her, though. They would both never see the light if she succeeded. There was no way she could return without him to guide her.

His mind tried to reach clarity, even as it battled the army of night. He pulled her further... and further. He was so close to home, that he could feel the real air swaying against his skin. Finally, he freed both of their souls from the dark, and they returned to the flesh. In the real world, he could feel Elizabeth. She was... it was like she was alive again. But he wasn't done yet. Her soul would escape his grasp if he stopped at this.

He began the ritual. The energy swirled around him, the soul swinging back and forth like a pendulum. He chanted to try and control it -- direct it deep inside of her. This was the last step before her return -- he couldn't ******** it up. "Mortem ego Dominus. In mortuorum evocatoris of Evocatores Mortuorum. Non quaero abs te auxiliante, sed postulare, ut me duce. Haec est anima mea - sum usurpauerint. Meum est proprietas. Alte in corpus suum et premere et velum, et non resistet mihi et irritum. Sic iuberet. Huius ego praecipio tibi pactum velit. Inter dominum et servum. Nigromantii et satelles. c** filio mater." He chanted, and chanted -- fervently, his voice rising, his body growing tired and erratic from all of the crazed chanting. It was to be done soon! He had to chant it perfectly, with the perfect pitch!

The soul fell deep into her body, breathing life into her. Or -- more accurately -- huffing away the death. He wasn't sure if this could be considered life, but his mother had returned to him. Queen Elizabeth, and now the friend and soldier of the King of Luray, Azrael Bishop. He cast aside all of this anger and rage, as he had now gotten what he'd always wanted. "Mother..." he whispered, as the Kiranu began to wheeze. It seemed like she was hyperventilating, but this was natural. He'd revived a dog in this manner before, and it did the same.

He smiled at his lady, even as she said nothing. She looked around quietly, her eyes slowly opening. She stared at Azrael, and then at nothing. She closed her eyes, rising from the altar. He began to get a feel of how to manipulate her, although he preferred to let her do her own thing, at the moment. With his mind, he studied her schematics. Her powers -- everything. It was just as he'd imagined from watching her battle and train, all of those years. She had a great potency in her. And, although this wasn't the primary intention of her rebirth, he reveled in the fortune he'd come over. He was Elizabeth's rightful owner, the Queen in his hands once again.