Juniper Le Fey
One bad mamajama
Some backwater planet with a name not worth remembering
Bloodshot emerald eyes once-overed the now filling room before her. This wasn’t a place for just anyone, this was where you went when you hit rock bottom. The overhead lighting was too harsh, and everyone in the room smelled of half-smoked death sticks and full on body odor. Part of Juniper wanted to believe that her life hadn’t come to this point. Juniper wanted to believe so badly that she took another swig of her whiskey, closed her eyes, and imagined herself far away from this place. She could practically feel herself melting into her daydream. The sounds of men arguing and drinking were replaced with soft orchestral melodies crafted by equally beautiful and genius artists. The stiff barstool she had been keeping company shape-shifted into a golden throne lined with the finest furs. In this daydream she would retire young and live her lavish life in a huge mansion on a distant planet filled with breath taking tapestries and commissioned portraits instead of the durasteel walls and stains this jail cell sported.
Of course, these delusions of grandeur were all too soon dashed by the crashing reality of her situation. A stumbling drunk Bith bumped his way through the packed cantina and into Juniper, spurring her from her fantasy. The people surrounding the bar were quickly growing less and less diverse by the second. It went from a few drunks and some younger people most likely looking for work as she had been, and devolved into a sausage fest of shady beings who probably didn’t pay child support. With a heartfelt sigh, Juniper slipped her way back into the present fold of time and reality. The broke mercenary knew she had to gather some information before she left the planet. The now barely tipsy Juniper would have absolutely no money to her name after she closed out her tab. As it turns out, that isn’t the best plan to have when traveling across planets; especially when the tickets are nonrefundable and you are kind of on the run from the law.
With both her options and drinks running dangerous low, she decided there was no better time than the present to act. Juniper needed to adapt to her surroundings, as abysmal as they were. If she couldn’t find a job, she’d make a job. She was a very ambitious hunter and had a knack for finding like-minded ilk. Le Fey had effectively signed her life away when she handed back her check to the bartender and honestly had nothing to lose. This was where she had hoped some good information would come up to go off of. If she could find a lead to take off planet, the adept bounty hunter would chase it till the stars fell out. This tired mercenary was ready for some real work, and made way deep into the sea of vagabonds and thieves before her.
Overplayed cantina music coated the room far worse than the plumes of noxious smoke. Usually she didn’t mind the drab melodies when she was on-top of things. This particular tune seemed to mock her though, saying to her that this was now where she belonged. A monotonous cycle of bad music and bad drinks in a hole in the wall cantina. Purgatory almost to a wild-eyed explorer like Juniper Le Fey. This moment would have been the perfect time to call back on her mansion; but not even her bright imagination was able to mask her dismal surroundings. Wading into the sea of people was the only way she was able to connect on most planets for jobs or drugs. The mercenary’s lackluster career to date was not a means to impress high paying clients, so she had no real contacts to fall back on. It was all word of mouth with criminals of her kind, if you could find any worth trusting. It would be hard for her to bend in however, she always had that problem, unless she was in some dark nightclub deep in Nar Shaddaa or Coruscant. No one blended in there.
With her wintery mane fashioned into a high ponytail that slithered down her back she was an eye catcher to say the least. The next thing you would notice would be the drab, oversized clothing she was wearing. Le Fey was sporting a dark blue jacket draped over her shoulders like a waterfall. She had green boots on the same shade as a jungle canopy on Onderon. Finally, an old beige jumpsuit she dug out of a thrift store’s dumpster completed her hobo look. She had chosen to lose her other clothes after the large spots of blood covering them got her more attention than she cared for. Standing at nearly six feet tall, Juniper could see well into the swarm of people around her. Sooner or later she would get someone’s attention. If it was the wrong kind of attention she had some surprises for them.
Usually, however, this was where someone offered to buy her a drink.
Bloodshot emerald eyes once-overed the now filling room before her. This wasn’t a place for just anyone, this was where you went when you hit rock bottom. The overhead lighting was too harsh, and everyone in the room smelled of half-smoked death sticks and full on body odor. Part of Juniper wanted to believe that her life hadn’t come to this point. Juniper wanted to believe so badly that she took another swig of her whiskey, closed her eyes, and imagined herself far away from this place. She could practically feel herself melting into her daydream. The sounds of men arguing and drinking were replaced with soft orchestral melodies crafted by equally beautiful and genius artists. The stiff barstool she had been keeping company shape-shifted into a golden throne lined with the finest furs. In this daydream she would retire young and live her lavish life in a huge mansion on a distant planet filled with breath taking tapestries and commissioned portraits instead of the durasteel walls and stains this jail cell sported.
Of course, these delusions of grandeur were all too soon dashed by the crashing reality of her situation. A stumbling drunk Bith bumped his way through the packed cantina and into Juniper, spurring her from her fantasy. The people surrounding the bar were quickly growing less and less diverse by the second. It went from a few drunks and some younger people most likely looking for work as she had been, and devolved into a sausage fest of shady beings who probably didn’t pay child support. With a heartfelt sigh, Juniper slipped her way back into the present fold of time and reality. The broke mercenary knew she had to gather some information before she left the planet. The now barely tipsy Juniper would have absolutely no money to her name after she closed out her tab. As it turns out, that isn’t the best plan to have when traveling across planets; especially when the tickets are nonrefundable and you are kind of on the run from the law.
With both her options and drinks running dangerous low, she decided there was no better time than the present to act. Juniper needed to adapt to her surroundings, as abysmal as they were. If she couldn’t find a job, she’d make a job. She was a very ambitious hunter and had a knack for finding like-minded ilk. Le Fey had effectively signed her life away when she handed back her check to the bartender and honestly had nothing to lose. This was where she had hoped some good information would come up to go off of. If she could find a lead to take off planet, the adept bounty hunter would chase it till the stars fell out. This tired mercenary was ready for some real work, and made way deep into the sea of vagabonds and thieves before her.
Overplayed cantina music coated the room far worse than the plumes of noxious smoke. Usually she didn’t mind the drab melodies when she was on-top of things. This particular tune seemed to mock her though, saying to her that this was now where she belonged. A monotonous cycle of bad music and bad drinks in a hole in the wall cantina. Purgatory almost to a wild-eyed explorer like Juniper Le Fey. This moment would have been the perfect time to call back on her mansion; but not even her bright imagination was able to mask her dismal surroundings. Wading into the sea of people was the only way she was able to connect on most planets for jobs or drugs. The mercenary’s lackluster career to date was not a means to impress high paying clients, so she had no real contacts to fall back on. It was all word of mouth with criminals of her kind, if you could find any worth trusting. It would be hard for her to bend in however, she always had that problem, unless she was in some dark nightclub deep in Nar Shaddaa or Coruscant. No one blended in there.
With her wintery mane fashioned into a high ponytail that slithered down her back she was an eye catcher to say the least. The next thing you would notice would be the drab, oversized clothing she was wearing. Le Fey was sporting a dark blue jacket draped over her shoulders like a waterfall. She had green boots on the same shade as a jungle canopy on Onderon. Finally, an old beige jumpsuit she dug out of a thrift store’s dumpster completed her hobo look. She had chosen to lose her other clothes after the large spots of blood covering them got her more attention than she cared for. Standing at nearly six feet tall, Juniper could see well into the swarm of people around her. Sooner or later she would get someone’s attention. If it was the wrong kind of attention she had some surprises for them.
Usually, however, this was where someone offered to buy her a drink.
