Duel Temple of the wyrm. ( Cleru vs Ulrich Wagner)

[Ulrich]

Sometimes in the throes of my reveries I wonder if I am in fact insane. Something clearly went wrong (or from my perspective right) in either my neurochemistry or possibly my soul upon birth. Were that not the case I would be little more than a rough beast little different from one of the myriad animalistic dragons of the galaxy. This notion has been dragged to the forefront of my consciousness because I plan to murder someone tonight in cold blood. I have killed before. A large part of my childhood was dedicated to priming me to slaughter others on the battlefield. I even killed vicariously through an undead instrument during my escape from the Mandalorian enclosures. This however is different , calculated and premediated on my behalf. Medical literature would suggest that this is the behavior of a sociopath.

Many would say that all Sith are either psychopathic or sociopathic to a degree. It's possible, and there are certainly practitioners of the dark side that fit that bill. But in the vast majority of circumstances I do genuinely care about sentient life. If a tragedy occurs in front of me I will feel sorrow. I shun the senseless violence that some tend to revel in for its own sake. This is at odds with a notion within me. That notion, nay principle is that all Mandalorians must be exterminated from the galaxy. All who swear themselves to such a creed sentenced to death by my hand. A total cultural genocide till nothing remains, save for bones and shades. But each culling requires a starting point, and tonight I had sworn to myself I would begin with a smaller step.

So it is that I'm sitting in the middle of a graveyard on the planet Krant. The place is old, filled with faded tombstones that have been overgrown with myriad creepers and vines. Krant's first moon Aereen hangs high in the sky waxing and gibbous. All around me the sounds of night echo, nocturnal birds , amphibians and insects make individual calls. In the distance a mournful howl resounds in the darkness. There were other sounds, touching the edge of my perception. Whispers as the 'other' inhabitants of the cemetery communed among each other, a susurration of psychic energy that was the voices of the dead. My presence had rouses the old shades to wakefulness, dragging them from the dreams of millennia. These were elder shades who had firmly fettered themselves to the graveyard to escape the damning pull of chaos.

For the moment I paid them no heed. Instead I casually examined a mechanical device in my fight forearm letting the moon's light shine off its metal surface. It was a greatsaber or as some knew it a light-club, one that I had picked up on Korriban. Truth be told I had little to no intention of using it in the following proceedings - I simply needed it as bait. Word was out on the holonet that certain individuals were paying a hefty sum for Sith lightsabers. What's more this had raised the interest of Mandalorians. In many ways I love the holonet ,for one thing it helped educate me after my deprived early years and secondly when using it no one can tell that you are a dragon. So it was that using one of my many accounts I posted information that a Sith had made his way into CIS space and had sequestered himself in a local graveyard getting up to Ragnos only knew what kind of devilry to the relevant bounty sites. I backed this up with both footage and flight data. It was extremely easy to collect as I was the Sith in question.

Now I waited my wings wrapped around my shoulders like a cloak. One clawed digit running across the the grooves in the greatsaber hilt. Tonight I would test my hand at exterminating one of my great enemy. No matter what happened it would doubtlessly prove educational.....


Cleru

 

[Mandalorian Prophet]

CIS space wasn't something Cleru was expecting to go to, but well. It worked out for what he was looking for. Another Sith. His blood practically boiled in his veins as the news reached his ears. A necromancer Sith. It didn't matter to him how large the being might be. Or what powers it might have. All that mattered was it was a Sith. A dark magic using Sith, like the ones that killed his wife.

Another chance for revenge.

The ex Chiss Operative stalked silently through the nearby woods, searching for a tree to perch on and overlook the graveyard. The mix of his stealth technology and the fact he was Force Dead made any other approach foolish. Play to his strengths. It didn't matter how powerful a Sith was when they got an unexpected bolt to the back of their head. Though, actually seeing the great black being gave him pause for a moment. An actual dragon? Like the Mythosaurs of old, but with wings.

Even more fitting prey.

He found himself a decent spot as he lifted up the Charric Sniper Rifle he acquired for this job and flicked on the overcharge. He pulled the trigger once he had his aim for the back of the creatures head.

Ulrich

 

[Ulrich]

I feel a sharp pain in the back of my head as it whiplashes into the ground. The taste of grave soil and coppery ichor fills my mouth as it is drawn sharply down into the earth. The night's peace is shattered as my ears ring with what might be the reverberations of the impact or possibly just the blood rushing to my head . I had been shot, and by something that had been of high caliber enough to actually hurt me. There wasn't enough surrounding devastation to suggest that it had been a rocket or grenade launcher so I was assuming a large and very potent rifle of some sort. Too much force to be a blaster so it was probably a slug weapon of one kind or another.

Now that the pain was a bit more concentrated I could feel the impact site. The shot had hit the bony protrusions that were my horns, snapping one off around halfway up the trunk. The force of the shot had slammed me down like a hammer blow from behind and while my natural armor had saved me from what would normally be a fatal hit it still hurt like the nine hells. Movement was needed now or I would be a sitting bantha open to other shots.

"Where are they?"

I whisper psionically to the graveyard. Unlike some Sith I couldn't simply pinpoint an opponent using the force. The exact reason was unknown, but I suspected it was somehow related to whatever kept me from being able to use telekinesis as well. Instead I had to play to my strengths and improvise a more macabre form of location. Eager to do anything to stave off the boredom of ages the spirits murmur back to me in my mind.

"Something strange. Can't see him. Can't feel him. Can feel something . Odd and cold. Feels wrong. Feels bad, can't locate it. Saw the bolt though. Came from the old Veshok tree at the edge of the forest. Kill it. Burn it. "

I had absolutely no idea what that was supposed to mean. It was clear that the ghosts couldn't get a proper read on this individual for whatever reason, but being entities of pure force they were highly attuned to any changes or oddities in it and who or whatever had decided to shoot me seemed to have upset them greatly. I wasn't going to bother using the lightsaber I hadn't been trained with it and I was just as liable to hurt myself as I was my foe. So instead as I pull myself from the ground my arm shoots out and grabs one of the grave markers. Its built in the shape of a diathim in a posture of supplication. With a single motion like a hammer thrower at a sports event I tear it from the ground and hurl it and the concrete plinth it's attached to at the old tree. It might get lucky hitting its target, but it probably wouldn't . Either way I was pretty sure that the tree wasn't going to survive the impact.

Not wasting an instant I wrenched the top from a sarcophagus adjacent to where the diathim statue had been. Solid and very heavy its occupant was something somewhat larger in size than the standard human or twilek it seemed well made though and would serve as a good makeshift shield to prevent further ranged punishment to my head. Kicking off with my back legs my wings gave a solid beat and I was airborne flying low towards the now doubtlessly shattered tree. From behind the cover of my shield I spoke in Mando'a

"Bid ibic cuyir te mirshko be a ad be Manda'yaim? at Koperar an nakar'mir aru'e o'r kaysh norac be te kov'nyn. Gar, guuror te udes be gar adate, cuyir a naas a a mass be hut'uun bal viper"

( So this is the courage of a son of Mandalore? To shoot an unaware enemy in the back of the head. You, like the rest of your people, are a nothing but a coward and a viper )

I hadn't used the tongue in a long while but, somewhat to my own disgust, it was still second nature to me. It was the language I grew up with after all. As much as I despised it.

Cleru

 

[Mandalorian Prophet]

There was quite a bit of satisfaction watching Ulrich drop from the shot, though seeing him move again quickly squashed that feeling away. He pulled up his rifle, venting the excessive heat from the first shot. This wasn't the type of weapon he could keep shooting with, at least not like his pistol. Time to move. Cleru hopped down from his perch the moment the gun finished venting. All while the dragon seemed to be searching for him. A snipers only advantage was when the target didn't know where they were.

Not a moment too soon. He blinked in surprise as the tree was demolished. A powerful Sith then?

Good.

Cleru avoided using his jetpack. Or moving too fast. Either would make the fractal coating moot and glitch it out. Asides, the dragon still didn't seem to know exactly where he was. He found another perch in another tree, glancing through his scope to see the figure make some sort of shield. Crap. No clear shot.

Crap. He's flying.

The Chiss seemed pretty surprised that the being could actually take off. A chill went down his spine. Fear? It'd been a long time since he felt such an emotion. But it was there. But with his new perch and the dragon heading towards the old one he had a shot. Not in the head. But a leg. Once more he flicked on the overcharge of the Charric rifle and fired. Cripple him first, then take him down. It didn't matter how big he was.

 

[Ulrich]

Searing pain shoots through my back leg. I'm somewhat expecting it this time, but that does little to mollify me with the burning agony in my limb. I don't dare to hesitate a glance at the moment but I suspect something has broken in my left hindleg. I can feel the cracked scales rub up against each other with a sickening creak. It's clear that this hunter knows what he's doing. I didn't go down in one shot so he has switched tactics to wear me down piece by piece. Strip away my mobility and then make me a much easier target.

It makes sense. Mandalorians have made a history of taking down my kind. My ancestors the ancient Basiliskans were defeated by such tactics as were the mythosaurs. This bounty hunter is no fool and is using the correct tactics to level against an opponent that significantly outsizes oneself. My sheer mass makes it very difficult to dodge shots at this range. If things keep going in the same direction he will eventually wear me down and go for the kill. But I have learned from the failures of my kind before me. Just like the Mandalorians themselves I have tricks up my sleeve.

Noting the direction of the shot I swivel my body in the air. The words of the sith grimoire echo in my mind. Spells and incantations from days long past. Arcane knowledge passed down from generation to generation. It is a remarkably simple spell, one of pyromancy. I speak the words in ur-Kittât my pronunciation isn't be best but its adequate for the purposes.

"Tapti' saud"

And then I breathe flame. Unlike the Duinuogwuin the more commonly known breed of stellar dragon we Basiliskans cannot naturally produce flame within our bodies. I had to rely on the force, notably the sorcerous might of the darkside in order to perform such a task. With a sweep I set the treeline in the direction of the assailants shot aflame. Wood crackled and branches caught alight. Lets see if whatever method of invisibility being used by my adversary would retain function after being doused in fire. Beskar tended to be rather flame retardant so I doubted that the hunter had simply immolated in the conflagration. But it would likely cause some burning and was a first step towards shifting the conflict into a more favorable direction. In contrast to the inferno my tone became icy with barely restrained mockery and malice as I spoke again in Mando'a.

" Well brother will you not draw your Beskad and face me in combat? Am I not a true son of Mandalore possessed of a Manda worth honoring or are we pitiful Lagartoz slaves dar'manda to one so mighty as yourself?"

Cleru

 

[Mandalorian Prophet]

It breathed fire.

Cleru was in the process of swapping out his perch when he heard the incantation. He had to swap cover. Let his rifle reset. Slow and steady was his plan Make the dragon have to guess where he was. That was the plan at least. Fire absolutely destroyed that. The Chiss couldn't even escape the blaze, instead just hunkering down to let the Beskar handle the flame. A shame for the fractal coating though. Between the intense heat and light it not only shorted out but the crystals themselves within the coating shattered.

It'd be a pain to pay for.

When the flames finally died down he stood up. Black scorched armor was clearly visible among the soot colored ground. The white of his armor still visible underneath the scars of flame. He didn't stay put for long. Now that he was visible, it was time to change his tactics. The jetpack he wore activated, sending him into the sky in an instant. He had no idea how fast the dragon was.

But maybe he didn't need to worry about it.

Once more the Chiss didn't answer. Wasn't in his nature to exchange banter with a target. It was, when he served the Ascendancy as an agent, but times were different. And this was a Sith. He rocketed up as fast as he could, letting his helmet help his aim at such a speed. One more overcharged shot, this time aiming at the Ulrich 's wing to try and keep the skies to himself.

 

[Ulrich]

My instincts had been right. The holographic covering now stripped away had been concealing a beskar clad form that was unmistakably Mandalorian in origin. It seemed that his prior silence had not simply been to help conceal his position as the lone warrior did not respond to my latest verbal provocation even as he was reveled to the world. There was a flare from his jetpack and without further ado the sniper took to the sky. It had always been a possibility of course. I had expected our encounter to play out across the ground. My next move if he had remained landlocked was to raise a host of the dead around the cemetery in order to distract him enough for me to get one good hit in. With his ascent into the air that particular plan had blown to ashes in the winds.

Little matter though. Up until now I had been at something of a severe disadvantage in terms of both ability to attack and use of mobility. Now I knew where the attacks were coming from I could better react with countermeasures. I was also in the air and as it turned out I was much more maneuverable in the skies than I was on land. A foolish part of me even began to delight at the prospect of taking to the air for combat. How many times had I dreamed of taking vengeance upon my captors? The ones who had destroyed my people's legacy and left my ancestral home little more than a charred wreck poisoned beyond repair.

I wondered if the Mandalorian hated me the same way I did him? Probably not. This was likely just another job to him. I suspected that he hadn't spent a lot of time around his peoples war beast menageries as he wasn't displaying any of the behavior that one would normally show when ones fighting dog were to speak to them. Perhaps he simply thought me a Duinuogwuin as did so many others. They had ties to the Jedi order so it was natural that some might have been drawn towards the teachings of the Sith.

The Mandalorian lifted and fired his rifle towards my wing. It was the logical move as taking it out would continue the strategy of crippling my movement This time however things were firmly in vision and so with a swift motion I rolled sideways dropping the heavy tombstone lid and picking up speed as if I were a aircraft getting rid of ballast. As I gained momentum I swiveled my head and then spoke in rapid succession

" Tapti' saud , Tapti' saud , Tapti' saud"

This time instead of a gout of flame I manifested the spell in the form of three spheres. Each shot through the air towards the Mandalorian. Unlike the prior spell these would explode into concussive blasts on impact as the warrior was wearing enough beskar to stop heat alone.

Cleru

 

[Mandalorian Prophet]

Chit.

The fact Ulrich could move so easily in the air was even more unnerving than the fact he could fly so well. The shot missed, and the Chiss turned away. There was no facing the dragon head on, not if he wanted to take this Sith down. Make distance, regroup, plan. He would win, so long as he kept the playing field on his terms. Stay calm. Prepare. Sure, the dragon could fly well, but he wasn't going to be able to keep up with a Jetpack.

This would be fine. Everything would work out.

Magic? He heard the spell before he saw it. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes wide under his helm. Thankfully his jetpack let him be rather maneuverable in the air. He weaved through the first two orbs without issue. The third? Hit him direct in the chest. The Chiss fell from the sky, eyes wide under his helm once more. Cleru's heart stopped. He landed in the tree line, crashing into the ground and tumbling through the underbrush before he slammed into a tree. His Beskar saved him from a lot of the damage, but he still had no heartbeat.

Thankfully the systems in his suit would fix that. Stims were injected automatically and his heart came racing back to action. He shot up, hand gripping at his chestplate with a yelp. That hurt more than having his heart stop in the first place. This was bad. He quickly got back up to his feet, rifle in hand as he looked to the sky.

The dragon was coming.

The antenna on his helm lowered as he prepared for the creature's arrival. As soon as Ulrich was in sight he launched the rocket on his pack, the vape charge tipped missile flying off. It'd home in on it's target, detonating once close enough.

 

[Ulrich]

Adrenaline pulsed through my veins and I saw one of my fireballs strike home. I didn't know if it was enough to kill the mandalorian or just damage but as his body began to fall from the air crashing through the trees my hopes were beginning to rise on the former. Banking I swooped and began to rise higher into the air so that I could get a good look from a decent vantage point. As my wings caught the night breeze I got a better glimpse of what was going on. The first thing about the scene below me that surprised me was the fact that the Mandalorian was on his feet again after the hit and subsequent fall. The second thing that had me somewhat shocked was the fact that he had brought down an aiming reticle from his helmet and was locking onto me with it.

Well kark!

It was not like I hadn't seen one of these things in action before. Given my history as a thrall to the Mandalorian war machine I had been on battlefields where they had been launched. I hadn't ever had one launched at ME before however. This wasn't a shot from a blaster pistol that I could simply shrug off or ignore , this was a full blown surface to air missile. If this thing hit it would leave me either badly wounded and crippled or dead. I cursed the fact that I wasn't able to use telekinesis - if I had access to such a power defeating an attack such as this would be easy. Tough luck though.

I had to move fast. I pick up speed the wind roaring as I began to ride the night air with my wings. The missile would likely overtake me with raw speed so I needed as big a head start as possible while it climbed. Beneath me the graveyard scene melted away as land became a blur of speed. Like a nightsister on the sabbath I shoot across the heavens under the light of the moon the fires of hell trailing behind me in metallic form. As I get to the point where I know the missile is managing to gain I spin around.

I get one chance at this. High in the heavens above Krant I turn, far from the surface I hang in the air and speak one final spell for the night preying to Typhojem and all the old gods that the plan will work.

"Tapti' saud"

It was a fireball much like the ones I had previously shot at the mandalorian. One with an explosive impact. The blast of flame flew out to meet the missile and the two projectiles combusted in mid air. Even with the distance the blast was fierce. I was flung back in the heavens shards of flaming metal striking at my chest and slicing at the periphery of my wings. The impact along sent me into a spiral as I half fell half glided down into the forest bellow.

Flora crumpled under me as I landed hard. There was the cracking of branches as my form hit the ground. Pain everywhere. Worst in my broken leg but also my head and the rest of my body. I had two choices. Get back into the sky and fly my way back to the graveyard or return to my ship which was closer and consider the night a learning exercise. My pride said I should do the first but the throbbing in my head suggested that it was a much better idea to recuperate before another such engagement.

Pride was partially to blame for what happened to my species in the first place. I wasn't invincible and continuing on at this point seemed suicidal. Better to head to the ship. The Mandalorian had won this initial round and could even take the lightsaber I had left in the graveyard back to claim the bounty associated with it. For all the hunter knew I was dead. After all by the time the missile had detonated all the mercenary would have been able to have seen was a distant explosion far away in the sky. I would watch the holonet like a hawk. The Mandalorian hadn't spoken once throughout our duel but if he were to claim the lightsaber there would be talk. I might even get a name. In any case I began the trek back to my ship favoring my two front legs as I painfully moved through the trees.

Cleru