Private Once Flames, Now Embers

[The Fynch]

Once Flames, Now Embers
Batuu
Tags: Aoi Imura

Lothal Protectorate​

Batuu was one armpit of thousands in the galaxy.

It was a good place to let off some steam. With his home ablaze and being left in a state of exile, Fynch needed to find purpose. A part of him could really only fall back into familiarity. He had spent his life defending Lothal from the delinquents of the Outer Rim, so that's what he began to look for. It didn't take long before word spread of a man with a blazing sword cutting his way through the underbelly of Batuu. Not that he much cared about rumors. Fynch just needed the satisfaction of vindication. He couldn't exactly wage war against an entire Empire alone, so what else could he do?

He had been there for about a week now, frequenting a local bar on the planet. Fynch had always been a drinker, but now it was one of the few things that reminded him of home. It seemed like there was always more trouble every time he arrived, however. Yesterday it was one thug, today it was three. The former Commander in Chief of the Lothal Protectorate, of course, wasted no time kicking the snot out of them. It only took three movements. He'd strike them across the head with the scabbard of his blade, weaving past one's panicked blaster bolt. Fynch would move on almost immediately, leaving their concussed bodies on the floor as he found himself a seat at the bar. The large man would slide a few credits to the bartender.

"Corellian Whiskey," he stated. "And extra for the mess..."

Fynch had been making a lot of messes as of late. A part of him cared... but most of him didn't.

He was past that point now.

 

[Aoi Imura]

A Flaming Swordsman was rumored to be roaming around the area fighting little thugs or people without any kind of rhyme or reason. While it wasn't the clearest MO of HIM, it was something that could be, if only for the fact of people trying to start fights with men who think they are tough chit. Of course, I had to follow this lead. Any chance for me to be able to follow his footsteps and find this individual I was looking for.

Easiest way? Go to the local bars and taverns and ask around. The first two I talked about said they heard of him, but that he wasn't really around their area. Triangulating his location to a different one took a little bit of time, but not much. Walking up to the building, I prepared myself to be disappointed, knowing that very likely, the guy was already gone. Ryuu stayed outside. Hiding among the shadows of the building, but not far enough away to help if needed.

The door opened to the natural lighting of the building. Dim, and taking a second for my eyes to adjust. A quick glance of the area brought a couple patrons in the bar, but none of them looked like Ignis. None of them even remotely matched his description. So, to the bar itself I went. Moving myself to sit down away from some of the other patrons, specifically an older more rugged man who looked to be a the bottom of a couple bottles hours ago, and is still here.

The Bartender came up. Asking some question about if I needed to wet my gullet with a drink. Placing a rather larger number of credits on the countertop, sliding them over.

"Hull Stripper, Neat. and I need some information on an individual."
"Depends whose asking."
"Someone who wants to find out who he is."
"Don't bother."
"Get yourself a drink on me."
"Little girl like you needs to keep to yourself. Have your drink and relax."

A shake of my head before waiting a moment, Filling the glass to the right measurement, I took back the extra credits and deposited them into my pocket. Just taking one long sip of the Hull Stripper before setting it down with a sigh.

The Fynch

 

[The Fynch]

Batuu
Tags: Aoi Imura

Lothal Protectorate​

"Little girl like you needs to keep to yourself. Have your drink and relax."

Fynch couldn't help but let out a scoff at that remark. A grin spread across his face as he set his whiskey back down on the bartop.

"Not much courtesy out here, is there?" he commented with a sigh. "Don't know how anyone retains business around here."

Little girl couldn't be further from the case. Fynch knew a warrior when he saw one. Young as she was, there wasn't a child there at all. Not everyone had the brain capacity to read the eyes of a stranger. One could very easily dismiss a youthful face, but Fynch was a military man first and foremost. There was an unspoken strength in her ilk, the kind that made heroes and legends.

A time he had long since passed himself.

"What's your story?" the former Commander asked. "Seem a little young to be drowning your sorrows..."

 

[Aoi Imura]

Not much courtesy out here. That much could be considered an understatement. People who are local, help one another. If some thought of this Ferocious Flame Swordsman, as a vigilante that was taking care of them, protecting them and cleaning up the streets, then they wouldn't give up that information. Either way, I didn't respond right away. Just took another sip of my drink. What made me curious was his question posed to me.

Letting go of the fact that his eyes had been on me, judging or just assessing what was going on, I left it to answer him.

"Nuclear response to trauma caused by family. Looking for the guy who caused it."

Turning to him, I raised the glass, but then sat it back down. Letting it clink onto the tabletop. My peripherals catching that the bartender was keeping an eye on me, and was listening into the conversation that started.

"I suppose you want to share?"

The Fynch

 

[The Fynch]

Batuu
Tags: Aoi Imura

Lothal Protectorate​

"Vengence, ay?" Fynch noted, taking a sip of his whiskey. "Seems like a lot of folks need that these days..."

Oh how he wished he could achieve vengance. But then again, how did one man fight an entire empire? To say that such a thing was impossible was an understatement. Still, he could understand such a motivation. There was perhaps even an unspoken respect about his tone when he commented on the matter. After all, she was persuing what he could not. Fynch couldn't rebuke such actions. Maybe a part of him was even jealous that he could not do the same...

"I suppose you want to share?"

"Not much to share," he shrugged. "Had a home, now I don't. You could hear the same thing from any old mooch in the galaxy..."

There was a slight tilt of his head as he set down his whiskey.

"But... I've been around the block for a bit," the large man noted. "Folks around here blab if you know how to make them... tell me about this guy you're lookin' for."

He couldn't help himself. Fynch wanted so badly to be that leader that defended his people for fifteen years. Someone who could prop up strangers, provide his aid to those who needed it. Maybe that was the reason he had been cutting his way through the underbelly of every backwater rock he found himself on. Community service was baked into his DNA. It was almost like an itch, one that he was programmed to scratch every opportunity he got. Maybe a road like this could lead him to some sort of contentment, a path that set the souls he carried with him to rest... One day, at least.

There was clearly still a ways for him to go.

 

[Aoi Imura]

Vengeance was a word that could be used. More so, it was also avenging. Sure, Ignis has, and had personally wronged me, but so did he to his own people. His family, his legacy. Yes, my biological father was not the best. Nor was mother. Hell, He didn't even know Morna was his father because Nick had forced him to forget such things. Was hard on him his entire life just so then he could live up to some astronomical expectation of him. Of course, there were other factors into why such a thing happened. However, Ignis made his choice. He made his bed. Now he has to deal with those consequences.

Me.

Taking a sip as the man spoke about being around the block. Saying that if essentially, I played my sabacc cards right, I could get people, or him indirectly to talk. Indicating the chair between us, I waited a moment then moved closer. If only to allow us to talk in a lowered volume. The Bartender still trying to listen on our conversation while he cleaned various drinking glasses.

With a more hushed tone.

"I seek a man who wields fire. Such a way that is not natural. He carries a sword with him that glows like the Corona of an Eclipsing moon. Heard a guy was around here causing a stir with a flaming sword. Hence my being here. Matches somewhat of the description because others mentioned that nobody really saw his face. Just that he was a 'Demon in the Shadows with a sword of flame."

Taking another sip on the drink. Feeling its burning liquid race into my gullet, and down, I made no expression of distaste. Clearly having dealt with hard liquor before.

"If its him, I need that shot."

The Fynch

 

[The Fynch]

Batuu
Tags: Aoi Imura

Lothal Protectorate​

Fynch let out a sigh.

"I... think I know who you're lookin' for..."

The man reached for the sword at his hip, taking the scabbard off his belt and placing it on the table. That cursed blade... it was all he had left of Lothal now. A Doonium sword that had been raised to kill him as the Empire of the Lost invaded his home, wielded by a Sith assassin they had hired to do their dirty work. He pried it from their dead hand. It was clearly not for him to wield. The call of the force did not reach his ears, and thus the sword was unruly, clearly not willing to accept him as is master.

He didn't much care for what it thought of him.

"Sorry, kid," he apologized, seeming rather earnest in his tone. "'Fraid you've been following the wrong sword..."

Fynch would slide the blade over to her to let her examine it, taking another sip of his whiskey.

 

[Aoi Imura]

Goddamn it. All I could do was close my eyes and sigh deeply as the man produced a sword. I didn't need to look at it long to tell it was a Force-Imbued sword. One that I have made for myself as well. While it sat there on the counter, I reached for my glass and downed the rest of it. A pinched face formed from swallowing the rest of it down in a mere moment.

"Yes and No. The man has a sword much like this."

As I started to draw mine, The Bartender came over and placed his hands on the counter.

"If you two are gonna be a problem, then take it outside."
"A problem is formed when someone becomes offended from trivial things."

Turning to the man, indicating to him. It was a very even keel tone. Not loud or obnoxious. Almost monotone.

"I don't think we are fighting? Do you? No."

A quick snap of my attention back to the bartender.

"You are paid to wash dishes and serve drinks. Not snoop on conversations."

I had been paying attention to him for a moment. Watching him out of the side. Sure it was his job to make sure the bar wasn't destroyed. And yes, I was being confentational. So I pulled a couple credits from my pocket, Placed them onto the bar, and slid them over to him. Double the amount of what my drink had been worth.

"I'd like another, and you keep the rest."

The Fynch

 

[The Fynch]

Batuu
Tags: Aoi Imura

Lothal Protectorate​

"You are paid to wash dishes and serve drinks. Not snoop on conversations."

Fynch would proceed to burst out into booming laughter.

"Relax, man," he stated, sliding his empty glass back to the bartender for a refill. "It's nothing more than admiring craftsmanship."

The large man would glance over, assessing the blade of the young swordswoman. It was, no doubt, of very high quality. The way in which she wore it indicated an intimacy with the knowledge of it's creation. That was a luxury that Fynch did not have with his blade. Perhaps that was part of the reason why it was so... unpredictable.

"A sword like that, ay?" Fynch echoed, scratching at his chin. "I've gained some knowledge of force-blades as of late. If this sword of yours is similar to his, I'd wager that the blade will know when its cousin is close, no? They do so often seem to have minds of their own..." he paused, eyeing his own blade for a moment, "...sometimes inconveniently so."

He'd shrug, taking hold of his refilled glass of whiskey.

"Perhaps that's my own fault," he sighed. "One like myself isn't equiped to play with gods..."

Not that it stopped him.

 

[Aoi Imura]

The man was rather, nonchalant about the situation. I was a little upset about it. You don't listen into conversations. It was rude, but after having his and my own drink refilled, I opted to just let it go. With the bartender leaving us alone again, I figured he might listen, but he won't interrupt us. The man spoke of the sword. Seeming to know barely enough to get by on what a Force Imbued Blade was. Even being skeptical about the swords being "Cousins" where they could interact with each other. I smiled slyly at it for a moment. Dropping it to answer him.

"When these swords are made, they are custom to the creator. Its considered a rite of passage to make one of your own to be inducted into some orders of the force. So when someone else picks it up, it can be unwieldy or act against you. Feels heavier, cumbersome, or out right denying its usage. Where as the creator of the blade, would feel it weightless, part of their own body."

Taking a sip as he spoke of not messing with gods, I just shook my head after swallowing. He did mess with them, just was being either humble, or didn't care if they had powers of some divine creation.

"It is your fault. Because that's not truly your sword."

Grabbing my own, I slid it easily into the scabbard. As though it were second nature to me. Not looking to "aim" it into the opening, and one handing it. The ease was sure to tell him that I had used it many times in the past. Even for as young as I was compared to him.

"However, I commend you for attempting that. With you confessing of being this flame swordsman, It shows that you seek your own kind of justice, or righting wrongs. Even if its difficult to do so."

The Fynch

 

[The Fynch]

Batuu
Tags: Aoi Imura

Lothal Protectorate​

"However, I commend you for attempting that. With you confessing of being this flame swordsman, It shows that you seek your own kind of justice, or righting wrongs. Even if its difficult to do so."

"It's stubbornness more than anything," Fynch noted, taking a sip of his whiskey. "Just in my nature. I was a military leader once... Its an itch I still need to scratch..."

Fynch returned the blade to his belt before reaching out to take another sip of his whiskey. Community service was just in his nature. He forged himself in combat cleaning up pirates and imperial spies on Lothal. This was just his way to continue that, even if he could no longer defend his homeland. It was something, and that was better than nothing.

"I ain't hiding out here though," he laughed. "No reason to. Ain't got much to lose. I figure I'll keep throwing my weight around until someone get's tired of me." Fynch glanced down at his blade. "It'll come around, I bet. Probably just bitter I pried it out of that Sith's dead hands..."

One way or another he'd get the blade in order. For now he'd keep brute forcing his way through his problems.

 

[Aoi Imura]

An itch to do something right. To be a protector or a defender. Particularly stemming from being in a leadership role. It shows he had at one point, values to uphold. And those values have stayed with him for so long, its permeated into his life away from that position of leading. Nodding along to it, I took a sip of the Hull Stripper before he continued with his rather open explanation of why he claimed the sword as his own.

A Sith that had been killed, was stripped of his weapon. He had no real intention of hiding. It was only some myth or legend of a Flaming swordsman that led me here. While he had been rather open to the situation, even giving me a condolence for making me come out all this way for nothing. Stated earlier in our conversation. Another set of nodding at his words. Explaining how his stubbornness was pushing through the objective actions against his combat. Even when he was using a unwieldy weapon, he did so rather well to make such a rumor.

"A vet who can't let go of what was drilled into them."

I knew that feeling all too well. Not by my own personal experience, but because of my own viewing of my father. Days he would be gone. Returning home just to sit and drink a bottle to himself. All so he could drown out the pain of what he had done. What he had to do to Ignis. It was painful to see it in anyone. Let alone one's own father. Seeing him deteriorate, and then slaughtered by my half-brother.

"It appears both of us are at a crossroads now."

The Fynch

 

[The Fynch]

Batuu
Tags: Aoi Imura

Lothal Protectorate​

"Crossroads are the way to new pastures," he noted. "Something lies at the end of the arduous path of uncertainty. What that is, however... that has yet to be decided."

He took a sip of his whiskey before continuing.

"Solarus Fynch... but I just go by Fynch now," the large man greeted. "Commander in Chief of the Lothal Protectorate... after the Empire of the Lost moved in and set my home ablaze, it's been left a protectorate of one..."

He really was the only one left. Fynch wore his military jacket, his old dog tags from when he served as a rifleman, had all of his medals of honor somewhere in a pocket within his coat... All heavy on his shoulders now, the weight of a fallen nation pressed upon his back. A home, a country, a planet... this was his family, the one he had gained through service that replaced the one he had lost as a child. Perhaps that was what had made him so stubborn. After all, he didn't so much keep fighting for himself as he did for their legacy.

"It's not an uncommon fate in the Outer Rim," Fynch stated. "Most planets out there are hellscapes, torn apart by the Bryn, then the New Imperial Order, the Maw, Imperial remnant states, pirates, crime lords... All things considered, it was meracle I managed to kick that can fifteen years down the road..."

How did he face those who had been his allies now? Leaders like Valery Noble were sure to accept him into their Alliance with open arms and commend him for standing against imperial forces for as long as he did. He'd be showered with condolances, propped up on a pedistal to the rest of the Galactic Alliance to tell his story, maybe even stur movement for fighting the dangers of the Outer Rim or put a spotlight on the Empire of the Lost...

But that didn't feel right to him. Fynch was so tired of talking, being told that he was a good man, that his sacrifices meant something. He needed action, movement, decisive strikes against the evils of the galaxy. Solarus Fynch, Commander in Chief of the Lothal Protectorate, leader of none... The Fynch did not want to rest. Not yet.

"I have an enemy I can't strike down," he sighed. "For what it's worth, I hope you find the guy you're looking for. A win for you is a win for all the folks like you and I who get dragged through the armpit of the galaxy."

 

[Aoi Imura]

Well that was a lot of information. A man down on his luck, being a leader of a now defunct faction that had been ousted by another in its entirety. A leader, losing all of those men. All that influence. To just be sitting in a random bar. It was very interesting to say the least. He continued, seemingly waxing about the philosophy about it. Fynch had been dealing with quite a bit. No wonder he was drinking. Well, both of us were. it was disheartening that this happened to so many in the galaxy. While some may have deserved it, from what I could tell, I am not sure if he did or not.

"Well, I am Aoi Imura. Last of my family legacy. Likely one of the few Je'daii roaming the Galaxy, and with nothing but what I carry with me."

Waking a quick drink of my hull stripper, I sat it back down.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you acquire the sword?"

The Fynch

 

[The Fynch]

Batuu
Tags: Aoi Imura

Lothal Protectorate​

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you acquire the sword?"

"Sith Assassin," Fynch stated, not missing a beat. "Imps sent 'em to kill me. Spineless bastards... Their kind have no honor. As you can see, it didn't exactly pan out for them. Guess something in me wasn't ready to go down just yet."

Fynch took another sip of his whiskey.

"But Je'daii?" he noted. "That's not a name you hear these days. Suppose that explains the blade..." The large man paused for a moment. "You carry more than just what's on your back with you. Identities become thin out here. The real struggle out here is keeping a grip on yourself. Some folks out here just don't make the cut..."

He was learning that the hard way. Keeping a hold on your identity was easier said than done. If one had gone through hell, how were they supposed to keep a grip on reality? It was a rhetorical question, of course. Fynch knew what his answer was, and for other people it was surely a different solution to the problem at hand. Still, it was an important thing to think about when your teathers began to slip away. Homes, families, cultures... what was a person beyond these things?

Who was to say for sure.

"Right," Fynch sighed, setting down an empty glass. "That's enough for me today..."

The former Commander liked drinking, but he recognized it for what it was: Temporary relief. No sense in making himself wasted beyond function over something he couldn't control.