The Rejected Gear

[Alexander Baker]

 

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.

 

[J. Deacon Monroe]

"Pleasure!" He grips Val's hand firmly

[Lady Brielle Serra]

Brielle wanders in, stretching slightly. She notices what appears to be a stranger and then notices it is instead a long lost friend.

"Deacon, what brings you back here?" She tilts her head with a happy but confused expression upon her face.

[J. Deacon Monroe]

Deacon raises his head and smiles.

"Brielle, you are certainly a sight for sore eyes. I had to venture back west to attend to an important personal matter, which has since been resolved. But as this is my new home, I took the first ship back"

[Wilhelm A. Heizeltroff]

Wil laughs and nods. "That capability during war would have been great for you. But the odds are good it would have been much worse for the Republic. I am glad the serum works for it."

[J. Deacon Monroe]

Deacon glances down at the faint glow emitting from the liquid attached to his right arm. "Utter genius Wil"

[Wilhelm A. Heizeltroff]

Wil grins and nods. "Of course it is. It was my idea." 

He can't help but chuckle as he takes a sip of his scotch.

[J. Deacon Monroe]

"Cheers to that" Deacon exclaims as he slowly enjoys the warm effects of the scotch

[Valarian H. Vol]

*val pulls out a small case and opens it, revealing what appears to be a small hilt*  I present to you the Focused Light Dagger.  I figure a soldier like you be interested in this.  It uses adjusting mirrors to focus an internal light source into a foot long blade *hands the device to Deacon*

[J. Deacon Monroe]

Deacon takes the device gingerly, slowly turning it. "How strange, unlike anything I have seen. I imagine in close combat this is quite lethal"

[Valarian H. Vol]

Yes.  I haven't tested it on...ehem...live targets yet, but it works quite well against metal and bone *smiles*

[J. Deacon Monroe]

Deacon hands the device back and lifts his right forearm

"I have yet to test these new arm mounts on love targets as well, and as deadly as the blasts from the barrels can be, I hope the day never comes when I will need to use them"

[Lady Brielle Serra]

Brielle sways down the back hallway into the main part of the bar, looking a bit lost in thought and absentmindedly playing with the old skeleton key she keeps around her neck on a delicate chain.

Sighing, she steps behind the bar and starts organizing the various bottles, every so often taking a note of what inventory needs to be restocked. Simon pops down from the rafters and she murmurs something quietly to the monkey, who then reads the notes as she writes them, disappearing to the back and returning with the requisite liquor. She continues her work, clearly lost in thought all the while.