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]

Pondering life, Brielle's eyes tear up a bit and she reaches for a kerchief to dab at her eyes. "But...that is terrible!" She frowns, having difficulty comprehending loving and losing so many times that one gets used to it.

[Wilhelm A. Heizeltroff]

Wil gives her a gentle pat on her shoulder. "One of the curses of living a life span that is extended beyond that of nature. Eventually you see those you love grow old and fade from life."

He drinks a heavy gulp of his scotch and stares into the fire. "Everyone fades some day. Their memory remembered by a select few or perhaps 'immortalized' in publication. Though even those memories will fade in time. Think of the Illiad and the Odyssey by Homer for instance. Many indeed know those works. Classics renowned the world over." He looks at her with a sad smile. "But what can you tell me of Homer himself? What of his life and loves?"

 

[Lady Brielle Serra]

She smiles sadly. "I suspect you would have to ask the man himself to find that out....and unfortunately he's taken that to his grave..."

[Wilhelm A. Heizeltroff]

"My point precisely good lady." He takes another swig of the scotch. A match sparking to relight his pipe.

"I have lived nigh on 70 years. In that time I've buried my first wife, been divorced twice and now lost the latest of my loves. My oldest child has grandchildren of her own now." He puffs at the pipe, a thick cloud of blue smoke curling in the air around him.

"The years are catching up to me my dear. Not in body of course but in spirit. I grow weary."

[Lady Brielle Serra]

She blinks, taking it in.
"Wil, dear....if I had lived through all that I daresay I would be weary as well..." She gets up and heads to the bar to pour Wil another drink and discovers an envelope. She gently picks it up.

"Wil, do you know what this is?"

[Wilhelm A. Heizeltroff]

Wil smiles and nods. "Yes I know what it is. A gift from a tired, old man to friends to make sure that the bar he has come to love as a second home is well taken care of for some time. It is also undeniable nor returnable."

He laughs and puffs at his pipe.

[Sgt. Ian MacBrooke]

Placing the offered black gold down within easy reach, Ian Mac pats his jacket down in the hope of finding his cigars. Having found them, he chooses and lights a Java chocolate-flavoured stick, grabs his coffee and sits back once more, hoping he doesn't fall off to sleep again. "Really must get to the doctor and have him check this nonsense out. Could be narcolepsy..."

[Lady Brielle Serra]

Brielle giggles softly to herself. "You really ought to get that checked out. Wouldn't want you falling asleep in life threatening situations!"

[Lady Brielle Serra]

She stares at the envelope for awhile before turning a lovely shade of pink. "Wil...?" she stammers and blushes. "You mean....for here?" She blinks and opens the envelope with shaky hands.

[Wilhelm A. Heizeltroff]

He smiles as he watches her open it. Inside is a thick stack of money and certified bank notes that totals close to half a million pounds. "Of course I mean it for here. I spend nearly as much time here as I do my own lab and rooms."

He laughs and goes back to staring into the fire, smoking his pipe peacefully. The light of the fire catching his face just right making him look more like an old man than a man of 30. The long stemmed pipe in his teeth drooping closer to his chest than it normally does while awake.

[Lady Brielle Serra]

She looks up from the envelope to Wil, back to the envelope, and then to Wil again. "But how? Why?" She shakes her head. "Thank you?" and then faints.

[Sgt. Ian MacBrooke]

"Probably just 'jetlag' from all the space-time travel, Brie." I reply with a snicker.