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.

 

[Lady Brielle Serra]

She wrinkles her nose delicately.

"I'm hoping I won't have to get used to it. But you are right about the blood....although it stains like the dickens...." She sighs and grabs a mop.

"Do something with him, would you?"

[Graf Falke von Falkenhorst]

*The door swings open to admit an older man dressed in a somewhat formal morning coat of a vaguely foreign cut. Observing the scene he approaches the bar with an unconcerned air. Placing his falcon-headed walking cane on top of the bar, he looks at the bar keep. "I should like a single malt, no ice. Make it a double. It appears not much has changed here." His accent seems an odd mix of American intonations with a slight hint of something Central European underlying it.

[Arabella Porter]

She giggles girlishly and kicks the body lightly to make sure it's dead. "Shall we make a meat pie out of him? Something's been smelling right nasty on Fleet St lately and one of the crazies says it's the pie shop." She drags the body across the floor* Sorry if it stains." *She calls as she disappears into the back with it. There's a male shout and then Ara yells before a loud thumping can be heard. She then comes back and smiles* Now he's dead. *she sighs, starting to make the man's drink*

[Lady Brielle Serra]

Brielle turns a light shade of green as she hears the thump and grips the mop tightly before turning to the gentleman who just walked in. "Myself or Arabella will be with you in a moment...there was an...incident in here a moment ago...." She shakes her head to snap herself out of it and then starts mopping blood off the floor.

[Graf Falke von Falkenhorst]

"Alles in Ordnung... my pardon, all seems quite in order here as usual. It's been a while. You missed a spot under that table," he says as he waves his hand in the direction of a small pool of reddish liquid.

[Arabella Porter]

Yes, you did look very familiar. *Ara wipes away a ring of liquid where Jacob's vodka was and slaps the rag against her knee* Where's that accent from?

[Lady Brielle Serra]

"Thank you Sir." She finishes mopping up the blood and then picks her wine glass off the counter and takes a seat beside the gentleman. She twirls her wine glass by the stem. "Yes, do tell....where IS that accent from?"

[Graf Falke von Falkenhorst]

"Allow me to introduce myself," he rises and gives a short half bow with a barely audible click of his heels, "I am Oberst Christian Gottreich Alexander Graf Falke von Falkenhorst in the service of her Majesty Queen Flavia of Ruritania, at your service."

[Arabella Porter]

*coughs on her drink at the words "majesty and queen and "in  service of"* So....you're *cough* you're a politician. *cough* Excuse me, got something stuck in me throat here.

[Graf Falke von Falkenhorst]

"Well yes and no, or perhaps not exactly," he replies with an easy smile, "I am more of diplomat at times and at other times I am what is what could be called a," he pauses as he searches the for the correct term in English, "well, I'm not sure what one might call it, perhaps a facilitator, a go-between? At any rate, I am done here in Britain and stopped by for a drink before boarding my airship for home."

[Lady Brielle Serra]

Brielle nods. 
"I hope we get to discuss it soon. It is rather fascinating.....but I must get to bed."

She smiles, picks up the red dress and then walks up the stairs.

[Arabella Porter]

*cough* That's all very well.