The X-men run missions and work together with the NYPD, striving to maintain a peaceful balance between humans and mutants. When it comes to a fight, they won't back down from protecting those who need their help.
Haven presents itself as a humanitarian organization for activists, leaders, and high society, yet mutants are the secret leaders working to protect and serve their kind. Behind the scenes they bring their goals into reality.
From the time when mutants became known to the world, SUPER was founded as a black-ops division of the CIA in an attempt to classify, observe, and learn more about this new and rising threat.
The Syndicate works to help bring mutantkind to the forefront of the world. They work from the shadows, a beacon of hope for mutants, but a bane to mankind. With their guiding hand, humanity will finally find extinction.
Since the existence of mutants was first revealed in the nineties, the world has become a changed place. Whether they're genetic misfits or the next stage in humanity's evolution, there's no denying their growing numbers, especially in hubs like New York City. The NYPD has a division devoted to mutant related crimes. Super-powered vigilantes help to maintain the peace. Those who style themselves as Homo Superior work to tear society apart for rebuilding in their own image.
MRO is an intermediate to advanced writing level original character, original plot X-Men RPG. We've been open and active since October of 2005. You can play as a mutant, human, or Adapted— one of the rare humans who nullify mutant powers by their very existence. Goodies, baddies, and neutrals are all welcome.
Short Term Plots:Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
The Fountain of Youth
A chemical serum has been released that's shaving a few years off of the population. In some cases, found to be temporary, and in others...?
MRO MOVES WITH CURRENT TIME: What month and year it is now in real life, it's the same for MRO, too.
Fuegogrande: "Fuegogrande" player of The Ranger, Ion, Rhia, and Null
Neopolitan: "Aly" player of Rebecca Grey, Stephanie Graves, Marisol Cervantes, Vanessa Bookman, Chrysanthemum Van Hart, Sabine Sang, Eupraxia
Ongoing Plots
Magic and Mystics
After the events of the 2020 Harvest Moon and the following Winter Solstice, magic has started manifesting in the MROvere! With the efforts of the Welldrinker Cult, people are being converted into Mystics, a species of people genetically disposed to be great conduits for magical energy.
The Welldrinker Cult
A shadowy group is gaining power, drawing in people who are curious, vulnerable, or malicious, and turning them into Mystics. They are recruiting people into their ranks to spread the influence of magic in the world, but for what end goal?
Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
Adapteds
What if the human race began to adapt to the mutant threat? What if the human race changed ever so subtly... without the x-gene.
Atlanteans
The lost city of Atlantis has been found! Refugees from this undersea mutant dystopia have started to filter in to New York as citizens and businessfolk. You may make one as a player character of run into one on the street.
Got a plot in mind?
MRO plots are player-created the Mods facilitate and organize the big ones, but we get the ideas from you. Do you have a plot in mind, and want to know whether it needs Mod approval? Check out our plot guidelines.
It was stupid. It wasn't like Cafas' head wasn't pink enough already. And he'd dropped a stitch somewhere; you just couldn't tell, because the other stitches were uneven enough to cover for it. Plus, it was the girliest, most feminine, most double x chromosome idea ever: a hat. A pink hat. A knitted pink hat.
He'd made it himself. It was stupid.
Good thing he didn't actually care what Cafas thought. This wasn't a... caring-type relationship; they'd only gone out to dinner once. Possibly a few times. He probably didn't even need to get Cafas a present at all.
But he'd made the stupid hat, so someone was going to get it. Since he wouldn't inflict this idiocy on Katrina's head and he didn't hate the New Guidance Counselor that much, that just left Cafas.
Calley shoved the thing into a box, and used gratuitous tape to lock it inside. Then he shoved it in the back of their closet, and waited.
Waited.
(Even though there wasn't anything special to wait for,)
For Christmas morning.
"Here," the cat boy said, dropping the bundle of tape and cardboard into Cafas' lap. "A friend made it. For you."
He didn't watch Cafas open it; he had his own presents to deal with. Ooo, score--a catnip plant from Katrina. And a vaporeon plushie. His tail twitched in approval, potentially brushing up against Cafas' leg. But only because it was in the way. His black ears twitched out from the carefully knit holes in his own girly lavender hat; also made by a friend. A different friend, who actually knew how to knit.
Days had swept by recently, Cafas hadn't noticed, for instance, the passing between the 20th and 21st. He was lost in his work. He had himself tucked away, out of sight and mind, but for the odd meal when his stomach protested the constant energy output. He was using the danger room. Its simulations, despite being nought but a glorified videogame, provided all he needed, but for raw materials. Those he had to bring for himself. He hadn't done what he was attempting in a long time.
Why did I choose this? Because it means something. He won't understand in all probability. Well you will and he will likely come to.
The days of toil had payed off though, and left his skin a bit darker than when he had started. It had all been finished the night before, and he had returned to his room, tired, sore and with a paper cut he was none too amused by. He had awoken to the sounds of Calley, and the feeling of box on legs. He sat upright and observed the package on his lap. "Oh?" was his only sound before he began removing the tape. With that taken care of he removed the lid eagerly. He had no idea who Calley was trying to kid, for one, Cafas had seen the pink wool before. Still if Calley wanted to pretend he hadn't made it himself that was his right.
Silly shifter.
Silly shifter who he was sure wasn't watching him out of the corner of his eye at all. Silly shifter who made Cafas beam like an idiot with his hand made hat. He wondered how long finding the correct colour of wool had taken. Cafas had it on unless than a second, and refrained from hugging Calley... Too tightly. "Well you can tell this friend that I love it." Cafas released Calley, reached under his bed and pulled out his own package, nicely gift wrapped, by his standard. He held it out to Calley. "From me to you."
Because I worry every time you step out that door.
The sword had taken the longest, the scabbard had been the hardest, the box, hand carved, the most difficult to find. All without the touch of his mutation. Not even the gold and silver inlay in the hilt, leaves and flowing branches, flowing from cross guard to pomel, twisting itself around a single rose. Perhaps not original, but it was beautiful and had been the nicest design by far. The blade was straight, and a touch longer than his own, though not as wide, to help keep it light. He prayed that Calley would understand how much went into forging a single blade. He prayed he would understand the significance of the gift, that in that sword was represented the entire depth and range of his fellings for Calley. He suspected such prayers were in vain.
Cafas' gift was a lot heavier than his had been. Like it meant something, or... something. Cafas had used scotch tape, instead of masking tape. The wrapping paper had fuzzy Christmas kittens. (Cafas had used wrapping paper.) And the box... Cost a lot more than a skein of hot pink yarn, even before he pushed back the lid.
Cafas' had given him a hug and put on the hat. Calley showed his appreciation in a different way: with a complete absence of snarky comments. Cafas knew he'd been trying to learn how to sword fight for a few weeks, of course—he'd been complaining about it enough, and making enough play-dates with a unicorn. He even had a cheap wooden sword stashed in the closet that he was supposed to practice idiot beginner moves with and try not to hurt himself. Sebastian didn't trust him with a real sword yet.
Apparently Cafas did. Trust him, that is. Was that a good idea?
He ran a hand over the scabbard; picked it lightly up, and drew the blade a few inches out. The steel shone with polished light. There was something odd about it, something different than the other things he'd seen Cafas make. He traced his hand over the silver and gold leaves on the hilt, feeling the subtle textures the tools had left behind—
Tools?
"Did you... make this?" He asked, his ears flicking to Cafas even as his eyes stayed on the blade. "I mean, really make this. That's..."
That explained how scarce he'd been, for so many days.
He'd actually made this. Not with crazy mutant metal-voodoo, but with his hands.
"I—" Had no idea he was this good. Really this good. "Thank you."
Cafas smiled, Calley really seemed to appreciate it, which was nice. But if he was going to be fighting with swords he may as well have a proper one of his own (one that Cafas trusted not to break in half at the first signs of an real combat) "From the first flames in the forge to the last of the inlay. The last one I made that way is the very same I train and fight with." Cafas' face hurt from the smiling. Apparently he hadn't been doing it enough recently. He tried to force himself to stop, but failed. Stupid happiness.
He seems to get it though.
Cafas also had a few packages in the room actually addressed to him, alongside all the packages he had to send when the post office went back to work. He leaned across the bed and grabbed the nearest one. It was from the girl Verdy, who he ran into occasionally. He had sent her some gift cards for a dog spa, because frankly he doubted she would do it without them and if he was going to hang around someone with a dog, it would damn well be clean. She had sent him socks, which was awesome, considering he was running out at an alarming rate.
Oooh, emoticon socks!
The tail on his leg tickled, and Cafas' leg twitched. He was glad Calley was happy. Though he felt it may in fact not be as smart as he had felt he was being to go along with his fib on the hat. "Oh and Calley, I saw you knitting."Casual call on your lie is casual. "And it's great, thanks." He couldn't help his eyes, nor the particular shade of red they were turning. He could, however, control his mouth... sometimes. "Merry Christmas Calley. I'm yet to see you use a sword however, and I'd like to see how you're going." Arched eyebrows always helped convince people.
The tail twitched, stopped... stopped... resumed twitching.
"It wasn't that hard." It only took a few weeks. It would have taken even less, if his Spanish teacher hadn't confiscated the thing. Twice. Who confiscates knitting? Go bug someone with a cell phone, Senor Uptighto. He rolled a catnip leaf in between his fingers. The fragrance was potent even to a human's nose, but that wasn't to say that a human's nose did it proper justice. He flopped back on the bed, sword in one arm and catnip in the other. If said flop happened to land his head in Cafas' lap, it was the guy's own fault for not moving. And maybe Calley's fault for scooting over to Cafas' bed in the first place.
Maybe.
"Nu-uh," he said. "You're not allowed to see me swordfight until I've figured out which end goes in the bad guy."
Or until he wouldn't be an embarrassment to the sword he'd just been given.
"Where did you learn how to make something like this?"
Headlap. Headlap was nice. Especially when it was clearly on purpose. All the better. Though the scent of Catnip that followed was... strong? Yes that was an adequately descriptive word. He had not quite expected to be refused, but that was fine, he was happy where they were. He may push the issue later however. Plus, sword lessons from not him? That was a fine line to be treading. One might begin to feel inadequate, and then self esteem may be ruined. Though that relied on that person not being confident in their abilities to start with, and pre-existing insecurities.
Just scared I'll beat him up. As if I actually could.
"It's amazing what spending years practicing can do, helps when you have the inborn affinity for the whole metal crafting thing. It was my, well I guess it was my escape." Cafas ran a finger over the tooling marks on the blade. The tool marks on his own had faded over the years, a side effect, he thought, of the constant exposure to his powers. The times he had cheated sharpening it , or strengthened it, or accidentally done something to it, he was just happy it hadn't been reduced to a puddle yet. "There are some Japanese water stones in there, they'll be able to bring the blade to a razor edge, but that's not good for the blade, chips too easy. What it's at now is pretty much where you want to keep it. I left some instructions in there for you. You should only ever need the coarse and medium stones, the fine is more for knives. Any major chips bring it to me, I can fix it up."
Though there was that one time...
Now then, Cafas had his own question. "Calley, when I was learning to use a blade, I was covered in countless bruises and cuts, some more major than others, and that was by myself, even with wooden trainer swords. You, however, have been complaining about it for weeks, and yet, not a mark. Either you're being too modest about your abilities, or you're somehow immune to injury. What aren't you telling me here?" Hand on chest lightly, and totally reassuring. For Cafas anyway. If Calley didn't like it, he'd move. It was a pattern of events he was used to.
Cafas' hand moved to his sword. Traced the same edges Calley's own fingers had just been running along. Well... that was okay. The guy had made the blade; he was certainly allowed to touch it.
The hand moved to his chest. It just sort of... sat there. Lightly. Inoffensively.
...The cat boy would allow this, though his tail refused to sit still for it.
"Yeah. About that," he said, with a twitch twitch twitch that nearly knocked a certain set of emoticon socks clear off the bed. "So. A few weeks ago... this started."
The shifter drew the sword out a few inches from its sheath and—with a bit of a preemptive wince—ran his finger along the edge. Blood welled up almost instantly; blue sparks chased it out of his veins, and had the nick closed again before it had time to drip onto the bed. He stuck the finger in his mouth to wash off the extra blood, and presented one intact digit for Cafas' inspection.
"I don't bruise so easily anymore. If we could keep that on the down low, that would be great. Sam's already trying to kill me in Conditioning class as it is; he doesn't need to know I'm a healer now."
He'd rather not lie to the pink-haired pink-hatted boy whose lap he was in. He'd just... let him draw his own conclusions on the matter of sudden power growths.
Well that certainly was an interesting development. Calley didn't run away from his hand. This was a good development, Cafas could certainly live with it.It was a pleasant feeling to actually be close to someone in that way. There had been Elli of course, but that had been short lived, and she had gone long distance, which they both agreed wasn't going to work that early on. They hadn't been that close anyway. But with Calley, well for him at least it was a whole other matter.
What followed however was both surprising and confusing. First, Calley cut himself. Then he suddenly healed himself. It was like BAM! I can do this now. Cafas didn't get how. It was as if a whole new power had sprung into Calley. He was aware powers could develop but, well he didn't see where this one had come from, though he knew there were finer points of having powers that only the mutant in charge of them could know about. "That... is kind of awesome."
Oh how tempting it is to let it slip to Sam.
"Don't worry, I won't tell him, I know how hard Sam can push people. I escape that by simply doing my own stuff constantly. It's pretty much the same, minus the kind of sadistic hard light simulations." Which he used anyway, when the danger room was free. "So Sebastian knows about this then?" Cafas wondered what was going on with that Unicorn, though he imagined it had something to do with Ghost being missing. He'd have been helping with that, but he was far too much of the unsubtle battle type than the information gatherer.
If he didn't and he was training how he'd have to be, he'd be an idiot...
Keeping secrets was good. On principle, even if he didn't particularly care what Sam knew in practice. In practice: he was getting a solid B in that guy's class, so bring it on, ice man. It was the best grade he'd gotten in... well, in high school. Outside of summer school, that is: he'd aced remedial Bio.
"Yeah, Sebastian knows," Calley said. "Unicorns are wise and omnipotent like that." Also, they could heal in exactly the same way. Cafas didn't really need to know that.
The cat boy squirmed a little. The problem with twin sized beds: they had enough room for either one pink-haired boy or one cat-eared one, but generally not two. Especially not when one of them was flopped rather sideways with respect to the other: his legs were dangling just above the floor, in that awkward few inches were he couldn't quite reach the ground but it felt like he should.
"Apparently he's starting a church, or something." Silly immortal. "Do you do the religion thing?" If he did, Calley hadn't noticed. He didn't really come for the religion himself; he just stayed for the sword lessons. Also, for the guarding of Ghosty's wayward husband. Someone had to take care of the guy.
Wise and omnipotent huh? Starting his own little cult was he? well this was nothing but expected from a mutant, especially not one Cafas suspected would never die, if Calley's muttering and grumblings were anything to go by. Cafas would be taking an interest in that. He actually found it rather funny. He would have to go see the unicorn speak to him about his religion.
Meanwhile I'm being questioned on my own.
Cafas had to think about it for a second. Did he do the religion thing? Did speaking to no one in particular really count as praying? Not really. "I don't. I'm more of a fan of the information thing. It's more useful." Calley was squirming a little. cafas stroked his chest slightly to calm him, and to make it clear that he could sit up if he wanted to.
Maybe he needs walkies? Heh...
"At the very least it may be nice to cross blades with someone who may put up an actual fight. Oh and if you want to train with me at some point, well, if my sword is missing, just jump out the window, I usually train out there. If not, danger room, and if I'm not there well..."
Then I'm probably off doing something stupid and dangerous, like being an X-man.
Posted by Cheshire on Jan 15, 2012 11:53:05 GMT -6
Mutant God
3,233
18
Sept 24, 2018 19:41:05 GMT -6
Calley
"Heh. Because jumping out windows works so well for us." The shifter couldn't help it: he really couldn't. "Seriously, though. When I don't completely suck, we can spar sometime." It was okay to look like an idiot in a closed training room with a guy that had memory issues. It was not so okay on the Mansion grounds, with pink-haired boys. He had a certain air of dignity to maintain.
Squiggling lead to chest petting, chest petting lead to tail twitching, tail twitching evolved into a roll and a flop and a laying-next-to-Cafas-with-feet-in-air and sword-tucked-to-chest. His tail was curled in the air, somewhere over his head and close to Cafas' shoulders.
"Hey," he said. "What do you think it would be like, living forever? Would you want to do it?"
This was a completely hypothetical question, of course. Not to be confused with a potential invitation.
Cafas smirked; he liked happy Calley, more than almost any other mood of Calley currently available. He was waiting on loving Calley though. He felt that was a long time off. "Jumping is one way to put it."
Reckless walking cousing grievous bodily harm is another
Oh and now Calley was worried about not being good enough to spar with Cafas? Pfft sucking was part of life, but okay, Calley could keep his dignity and pride. Cafas suspected he was likely to hurt the shifter if the sparred anyway, because swords are sharp and heavy, and Cafas wasn't terribly fond of going easy. "I'll hold you to that."
Mental note, remember to hold him to it.
Calley was not on his lap any more, which was fine. He hadn't expected it to last long. His tail was somewhere nearby (which, even having grown accustomed to having mutants around, was an odd thought) and he was clutching his sword protectively. "Hey, What do you think it would be like, living forever? Would you want to do it?" They were having a deep day today, weren't they? Christmas, ladies and gentlemen.
Immortality... an eternity of life...
"Lonely. Eternity sounds lonely. Lifetimes would become like hours, eventually passing into insignificance. Friends and family gone, fading into nothing more than a distant, sad, haunting memory. I guess, for me, I'd need someone to share eternity with. Someone that could keep me sane and grounded, and vice versa. Else I imagine I'd go mad, I'd wish for death and it would never come, until all the world crumbled around me and the age of man and mutants fell, and I was alone, waiting for the void." Cafas' eyes had unfocused while he spoke, irises a melancholy brown, images of an immortal existence flickering through his mind, products of his imagination, haunting and sad.
I would not wish that existence of my worst enemy.
Cafas looked at Calley, he had only really realised that may be what Calley had to look forward to after he had spoken. Maybe a cheerier answer was what he had been looking for. Cafas felt like an ass, but refrained from adding an “I’d do it, with you.” Or anything else like that, mostly because it had never ended well before.
I really would share an eternity with you though...
Posted by Cheshire on Jan 22, 2012 21:13:52 GMT -6
Mutant God
3,233
18
Sept 24, 2018 19:41:05 GMT -6
Calley
Lonely.
What was wrong with being lonely? Cafas said it like it was a bad thing—like living your own life on your own was somehow sad. Calley had been there, done that, in the years he'd spent as a cat. It had been hot in summer even when he'd spread out on a branch in the shade; cold in winter even with his thickest winter coat in; wet sometimes, dry sometimes, hungry sometimes, tired sometimes. There had always been something. Lonely wasn't any worse than the rest; lonely couldn't even kill you.
Could he die of hunger now? Thirst? Heat? Cold?
He really had to ask Sebastian about all this, more than he had already. There were details that a new immortal needed to know, that he'd rather not learn through experience.
"That," the new immortal said, with an amused flick of ears, "is a pretty depressing take on things. I see it like this: you get to be with your friends," and family, but he wasn't in the habit of bringing her into casual conversations, even with Cafas, "for their whole lives: you can always be in the background, helping them. You'll never die and leave them to fend for themselves. You can always be there for everyone. You never have to worry about getting hurt, either, because you'll know you'll get over it. You can learn everything, go everywhere, because you'd have time for it. And if there's someone you really want to keep with you, you could always—" Bring them to Sebastian. "—always stay with them, until the end."
Cafas looked at Calley. He supposed Calley probably knew loneliness pretty well, he had, for example, been stuck as a mouse for days when he first met him, he couldn't imagine that was either fun nor terribly full of friends. The time spent as a cat, even from what Cafas knew, must have been huge. But he just wasn't that sort of person, not for the long haul. He smiled grimly at Calley as he finished off his explanation. He had a fair point, but at the same time, Cafas just knew it would end badly for him.
But not Calley. I'm not sure why I worry about that guy, he's way better at fending for himself than I am.
"What part of what is, quite frankly, a rather disturbing colour scheme, ever gave you the idea I could live like that? Watching those I care about die is pretty high up my greatest fears list. I've lived that once Calley, the prospect of living it again, especially if it was..." He had been about to say you, the pause, the pause gave it away. The moment of hesitation when he couldn't bring himself to even consider the notion. He blinked back what felt to be tears, while looking firmly in the opposite direction to Calley. "Where the option is live forever without the ones I love or live my mortal life with them, I choose the latter. I choose a mortal life."
Quoting Lord of the Rings at a time like this?
Cafas felt his mood was a bit heavy, given the exciting news and all. He made a point to brighten up, a lot, because he was getting all... dark and broody and introspective. "Totally jealous of your healing though. It’d sure make being an X-man less of a health risk.” Not to mention the whole vigilante thing. ”As for immortality, I'd have eternity to come to terms with it. I guess given further thought I'd love to if for no other reason than to learn and do everything, and to proclaim myself the last of the elves, and how I'm somehow the great grandson of legolas." He couldn't pull it off, but gosh would it have been fun.
Lovely way of looking at things, Calley really can be happy deep down under the distrust. Though maybe that was only me that received that.
A genuine smile returned to Cafas' face. Calley almost inspired him with his outlook. It was nice to see him happy, even if he was disturbingly willing to watch his loved ones die, if given the chance at immortality.
Posted by Cheshire on Feb 18, 2012 19:06:43 GMT -6
Mutant God
3,233
18
Sept 24, 2018 19:41:05 GMT -6
Calley
The cat boy roll-flopped onto his back on the bed, reaching his arms up towards the ceiling in a nice luxuriant stretch, his shiny new sword balanced lightly on his palms. "There's a difference between dying dying and, you know, just... dying. Dying's pretty natural if you do it at the right time." For him and Sebastian, the right time was never. For rats in sweaters, the right time was whenever he caught them. For everyone else, it was sometime when they were old and senile, and it was about time to trade their wrinkly body out for the next thing coming.
A flop-roll-reverse put him on his belly with legs and tail twitching behind him, and sword somewhere tucked between his arms and his stomach. Which was... about as comfortable as it sounded.
Twitch-twitch-twitch-squint.
"What are you smiling about?" Beaming. Headlights. The sun over San Francisco. The Legolas' grandson thing had been funny, but not that worthy of luminescence.
