The Rejected Gear
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.
Replies to This Discussion
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Permalink Reply by Luke Percival Wolfinson on
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The heavy door creaks its protest as it is pushed open from the outside. It yields slowly, at first, as the person entering misjudges the sheer mass of it, then more quickly. The man who enters is on the short side, 5’8 or so, with short-cropped brown hair, hazel eyes, and half-moon spectacles. His clothing is mostly appropriate to the city, but hints at the browns and greens of country-wear wherever sartorially appropriate. His grey tweed jacket sports brown suede patches, over which are the robes of a university professor, though the ceremonial cap is absent. He ambles up to the bar, taking in the sight of the young woman.
“Are you… the landlord? Erm… landlady?”
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Permalink Reply by Lady Brielle Serra on
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Lost in thought, she doesn't hear the stranger until he is in front of the bar and speaking to her. She whirls around, a faint bit of alarm in her eyes.
"I am terribly sorry, you caught me off guard!" She looks him up and down, taking his measure, and decides he posed no immediate threat. "I am taking over the the landlord while he is taking care of some...business deals." She daintily clears her throat, and flicks out her fan, hoping that he doesn't read the worry on her face nor suspect anything out of the ordinary. Flicking the fan shut, her face brightening,
"What brings you to the Rejected Gear? May I get you anything to drink?"
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He removes the robe, revealing an unusually stocky build for a professor, his shoulders broad and arms thick. Hanging the robe on a nearby peg, he pauses to consider his response.
“I have heard, though I cannot recall where, precisely, that this establishment has an atmosphere conducive to relaxation and contemplation. I will have a scotch whiskey, neat, if you don’t mind, young lady.”
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She gives a hint of a smirk and then nods. "It can indeed be quiet and relaxing, although every so often we do have some unsavory characters wander in and create a stir...." She whistles up to the rafters and a monkey jumps onto the top of the large liquor cabinet and then down to the bar. "You heard the man, scotch whiskey, neat!" The monkey chatters and then pours the drink.
"So, do you have a name you go by?" she tilts her head and pauses, waiting for his response.
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The man watches in astonishment as the diminutive simian prepares his spirits, then shakes his head, clearing his mind. "Where are my manners? Professor Wolfinson." He lifts his hand, palm up expecting her to rest her own in it.
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She hesitates a moment, before her old instincts kick in and she gently rests her hand on his.
"Pleasure to meet you, Professor Wolfinson. I must admit, genteel manners are not what I have been accustomed to run into since I've been living here..." She smiles a bit and gives her head a little shake.
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Wolfinson lofts an eyebrow at her, clearly trying to hide his offended expression. “Genteel manners are becoming less commonplace everywhere, it seems. The best way we can combat this is by practicing them ourselves.” His voice is that of a teacher lecturing a student who has made some obvious mistake. Even his posture changes for the brief moment in which he is subtly reprimanding her.
He takes his drink in hand and his initial sip is less sip and more gulp. His posture returns to the slumped, defeated, stressed one he wore when he entered.
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She frowns, although it comes off as more of a pout on her girlish face.
"Genteel manners don't keep one safe when one is on the run. I sadly had to learn that lesson the hard way, several times....to repeat my errors would be insanity."
She raises an eyebrow, taking in the defeated posture and the rapidly disappearing drink. "You look troubled. Perhaps you have some understanding."
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[[Continued from Reply by Lady Brielle Serra ]]
“Please yourself in that regard, young lady. I find it is more than possible to strike an appropriate balance. Would you mind if I offered you some small piece of advice?”
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She takes a seat beside him, sitting with flawless posture.
"You may state your case. I may or may not take it...." She pauses a moment before continuing, "It certainly cannot be worse than anything my parents have said or done....Do you know the methods some nobility use on their children to get them to behave?" She flicks open her fan and inspects it.
"I am rather inclined to distrust anyone who looks like they might know someone from whence I came, until I know them better, and especially while Felix is away." She looks up at him. "It is funny how neither money nor respectability guarantees a happy childhood, no?"
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He listens intently to her recitation, pauses for a long moment to consider, then replies. “Mademoiselle, I am an educator. I understand that some methods may seem extreme, but most of them exist for a reason. Here is my advice regarding your name problem."
"Come up with a nickname or pseudonym. When somebody does you the courtesy of giving you their name, you will have something to give in return without putting your given name at risk. Simply reply, ‘you may call me’ or ‘I am known as.’ This way, you are neither hindering polite conversation with the lack of a name, nor are you giving out your Christian name. Liberally considered, you are not even lying.”
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She sighs. "You are lucky if you have no idea what I am talking about. And if you really must know...my name is Brielle. You will do well to not repeat that outside of these walls. Now, tell me. What is troubling you so much that you wandered into a little bar called the Rejected Gear?"
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