A place for those who feel outcast or forgotten by the steampunk community or in life. Grab a chair, have a drink, and have a jolly good time with jolly good company. There are people in the world who suck and this is an escape.

The underground life isn't for all be we are out there.

 

My name is Alex ,the owner, and I'll be your bartender

Along with Ara, the other bartender

 

And Simon, the Demon King Monkey!

Welcome to the world of steampunk, and If you are new we will gladly help you with anything you need. And check us out for whiskey Wednesday's, where whiskey is free.

 

                         ********IMPORTANT********

There is an underlying story and/or parts there of, that is followed from the Airship Alicia Grey and The Airship Battle Royale. It is not the main focus of the Gear, but It does happen from time to time. The events are scripted at first, but remember your input changes the script. 

This role-play bar, is a light hearted dose of fun. It has its serious moments but the Spirit of the Gear is about comradery, having some drinks, and experiencing everything and anything. The more veteran gear posters will help out the newer Gear Goers with any questions, or ideas.

The gear is designed to help develop your characters if you would like. Feel free to message T.R. Harrison, Arabella Porter, or myself, if you have any questions.

 

 

WARNING: HAS BEEN KNOWN TO CAUSE: LAUGHING, GOOD COMPANY, AND ALL AROUND FUN!!!

 

Facebook:

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Rejected-Gear/116007448555003

We have a skype room:

[Currently Under Renovation]

World's End(The underground of the RG)

DISCLAIMER: Chat is unfiltered and uncensored, join at your own risk and if you have an issue with it you do not have to participate. This is a back room off welcome. The rejected gear and all afiliated persons are not accountable for the skype chatroom.

 

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Wil walks into the gear, looking far more rested than the night before. His clothing this night of the finest quality and absolutely immaculate in it's appearance. The stick in his hand intricately inlaid with gold in alchemical and mystical symbols.

His hat going on it's normal peg Wil walks to the bar with a wide smile and reaches over for a glass. Pressing one of the seemingly innumerable hidden buttons a bottle of Balvenie 21 year old pops up and he takes it with him to his table.

Brielle walks out from the back, looking both a bit disheveled and sad. She spies Wil and joins him at his table, Simon on her heals with her favorite glass of wine. She smiles. "Thank you dear, you read my mind.", and pats him on his head. She turns to Wil. "Good evening, how are you faring tonight?"

The elderly man from the night before soon returns, this time dressed more formally as if he had just come from a social engagement. A star of some unknown order rests on his coat breast and a sash drapes across his waistcoat. Two order crosses hang at his neck. He hangs his top hat on coat hook and walks over the bar.

"Much better than last evening, to be honest, my dear. I was exhausted. Sleeping most of the day has been quite beneficial. How are you feeling this fine eve my friend?" Wil smiles as he opens the bottle and pours himself three fingers.

She nods to the elderly man. "Might you wish to join us? You don't need to sit alone." And then turns to Wil. "I am ok. Felix was home for one night, which was nice, but now he's gone which is..." She shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders.

"Which is all to familiar a feeling for you. I am quite aware of that. Some day he will retire dear. I only hope it is within your lifetime." He pats her hand and takes a sip of his scotch with a smile.

Wil looks to the gentleman at the bar and waves him over. "Please join us my friend. While I don't know their meaning your medals quite remind me of some of the awards I have seen on Ruritanian soldiers. Might you be a countryman of theirs?"

"I'll be lucky if he retires before he is dead. He is barely aging and knowing him, he will continue for as long as he has a cause.." SHe turns to the gentleman and inspects his medals.

Thank you, I don't mind if I do," he said in his rather peculiar German-flavoured American accent. I am the Graf Falke von Falkenhorst in the service of Her Majesty the Queen of Ruritania. I doubt you've heard of it. At this, he bows his head slightly and clicks his heels. He also nods to the man and takes a seat.

She smiles and nods. "They made us read some history on the country in school.."

I am a former serving officer in the Royal Ruritanian Army and once aide-de-camp to our Queen. Now "retired" as they say.

"That must be nice. I'm sure your wife is happy that you are no longer in any danger of being killed every waking second." She takes a larger than normal sip of her wine.

Wil laughs and nods in camaraderie. "I served in the army of the American Republic during their civil war. I retired some twenty years ago myself so I understand."

Wil raises his glass before he realizes that to this man he looks to be easily half his true age. He could only hope he didn't question him much on it.

Wilhelm smiles and nods. "I know how you feel my dear. Being with a man who ages so slowly as to not be aging what so ever is a hard task for any woman. More so when the man risks his life at every turn."

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