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.
If there was ever a place to get lost in this world, it was New York City. Sylus lounged in the driver's seat of a stolen mazda tribute, its Arizona license plate having been replaced in the same parking garage that he was now parked at the top of. He smiled, grabbing a small notebook from his glove compartment and leafing through it until he reached the last page, he quickly looked over a series of tally marks.
"27 is just not enough. I need a big blaze to fuel Scora's flames."
Each of these tally marks was a person, burned to death in their own bed. For Sylus, they were just another soul for his great god. For the Phoenix Police Department and probably a couple of FBI agents, these were the victims of a mass arsonist whom they had been hunting down for 2 years now. It was only recently that they got an eyewitness description of the man.
This had brought Soot out of his comfort zone in the desert of Arizona, to the crowded streets of New York City. Here he could burn more, and hopefully finally sate his God's need for fuel. He stepped out of the vehicle, locking it behind him. With a brief thought, a half-smoked cigar hit the ground, and a large cloud of smoke flew over the city, combing the streets for a site to burn to the ground.
It eventually settled at the back door of a busy bar. A popular spot for the youth of NYC, it would not be a place where they would just let Sylus in. But no matter, slipping under the door in a hazy fashion, a man materialized out of thin smoke. The scars on his hands made them look gross and unusable, and the twinkle in his eye was unmistakable.
It was a twinkle of madness, and Soot enjoyed the feel in the air, if not the music. His lighter flicked on and off in anticipation of what was to come. Looking to the sky he breathed a small prayer.
"This is for you, he who tends the forge of life. I give you destruction as my sacrifice, Great God Scora.
Nothing helped absolve a bad mood like a few drinks. Alcohol took the edge off of her sharp temper, leaving her a little more relaxed, and a little less focused. She liked the feeling, hell... she loved it. The haze in her mind diverted the thoughts and memories plaguing her for a while, which she couldn't have been more grateful for. Too many things were weighing on her mind... too many unfamiliar feelings that she didn't want to deal with.
Unfortunately... the drinks stewing in her belly were not working as they were supposed to. She could feel a headache slowly pounding away behind her eyes, gradually getting worse and worse as the night went on. Each song being blasted through surround sound speakers behind her struck deep down at her most sensitive nerves, enough so that she had found herself gritting her teeth unconsciously quite a few times. It was a terrible choice in music... A mix between rap and techno... and was that folk? Guh.
With a sigh, Megan lifted her glass. A recent cut on her bottom lip stung as it came in contact with the drink... The warm brown liquid tingled at the back of her throat as she took a gulp. Soda bubbles tickled, the rum burned ever so slightly. Licking her lips, the twenty five year old blew midnight bangs from her eyes, shaggy hair hanging loosely around her shoulders, and re-crossed her arms on the bar counter. Bathed in the colors of mourning, black fitted jeans, her normal knife bearing boots, and a plain black zip up sweat shirt, she was the least exciting person at the bar. The few her had attempted to speak to her had given up quickly after hearing no response from her.
They weren't important enough for her to pay them any heed. Simple minds wandering round, yammering on about stupid things, wanting for simple pleasures. She didn't want to be a part of any of it.
Staring into the depths of her second drink, while waiting (impatiently) for the pain meds she had taken to set in, she pinched the bridge of her nose. She honestly didn't remember what had pulled her into the bar in the first place... maybe it was the fact that it was the first one she had come across offering free drinks for the ladies~.... Or maybe it was because it had been the closest one to her, after she had kicked the tar out of that guy who had jumped her. (He really hadn't been expecting her stun gun to come into play... nor had be expected her to pull a knife from her boot. But her sure regretted it.) Either way, she didn't really feel like leaving until her headache was gone... and she had taken advantage of the free drink offer.
...It's wasn't like she had important to be, anyway.
The soft, constant chatting of her children faded out for a moment, and she shifted on her seat. She had a few scattered around the building, hidden in various places to keep an eye on things. Fortunately, aside form a few lame shouting matches between frat boys, it had been a very quiet evening...
Sylus stood at the back of the bar, next to some foul smelling bathrooms. He was shut away from the main crowd down a small hallway. Unfortunately, to reach his destination, he would have to move not only through the throng of drunken fraters and occasional drinkers, he would also have to move past the employees. And while Sylus could eaasily glide past the room, the sight of a self moving cloud of smoke may frighten the potential sacrificial victims from their soon to be resting place.
This would require planning and maybe a little sleight of hand. Grinning as he planned his route, Sylus grabbed some fresh rags from a nearby storage closet. Stuffing them in his pocket, he strode into the crowd as if he belonged. His casual cargo shorts and black t shirt blended in nicely. He moved toward the front and strode casually up to a bar stool next to a rather sour looking female dressed in black. His scorched right hand hit the smooth wood of the barfront with a bill stuffed in it. The dragon of his tattoo seemed poised to breath over the wood and money under his hand.
A young man behind the bar walked over soon enough. Sylus used the time not only to order his drink but to note the uniform of the bar. Simple black company t-shirt and baseball cap. Thoughts ran by as an improvisation played through his head. "Ill take a scotch, strongest you have." The man served him his drink, and was payed with a tip.
He sipped the drink, which of course burned on the way down just like the whole establishment was about to. Sylus sighed and settled down at the bar, noting entrances and exits. Keeping an eye on where the barbacks went didnt keep him from eyeing the people around him as well. He even noted the beauty of the women around him, for although he stilled ached after the departure of his long dead fiance, such things do not stop ones carnal needs. It was not his main objective, but Sylus was still a man, and an observant one at that. He could still enjoy the beauty of creation, before it was destroyed once again.
To make matters worse, the most annoying song blared to life behind her, and the crowd of twenty something's went bat sh*t crazy. Megan growled quietly to herself, and cast her eyes over to a new body as it claimed the seat next to her. A swift once over gave her all of the information she needed. He looked older, was dressed in a similar fashion to some of the other jerks loitering about the place... and he had some rather nasty scars on him.
Her own drink was temporarily forgotten as she took a moment to stare, if a little openly. They looked pretty bad, like they had a story behind them. ... Not that she really cared much for stories. She shifted on her stool, crossing a leg over the other, and wrinkled her nose. Of course, out of a bar full of stools, he would choose to sit in the empty one next to her. She decided not to open her mouth and say anything, mainly because anything she had to say had the potential to start a fight. Instead, she lifted her glass to her lips once more.
Behind her (and the man who has claimed the seat beside her), another man was trying overly hard to convince a girl in a very tight white dress that he was the best thing that would ever happen to her. It ended with a scoff, a huff, and a slap that was audible over the music. With a red hand print marring his newly shaven cheek, the guy stared after her as she turned and sauntered away. "Whatever lady! You aren't that good lookin' anyway!" Nursing his wounded pride, he turned sat on one of the bar stools as its former owner got up and headed toward the bathrooms. Unfortunately for Megan, it turned out to be the seat on her other side. After ordering himself a beer, he glanced around. His eyes roved over the many people mulling about, until they fell on the woman beside him. He eyed her quietly for a moment, before a sly grin reappeared on his face.
Compared to some of the other men in the bar, he was of the attractive sort. Auburn hair slicked back, dark sunglasses poised on the bridge of his nose (even though it was dark in the bar..), a polo shirt with the collar popped out, and dark jeans that fit his tush just right. Yeah, he was a stag, and he knew it. (It was just hard convincing everyone else...) "Hey babe, why don't you ditch the burn victim and hang out with a man who's cool as ice?" As if his cheesy, cliche introduction wasn't bad enough, when Megan glanced over at him he pursed his lips and blew. A little puff of chilled air came out, sparkled with little flecks of ice.
The temptation to just go on ignoring him was strong, and yet... she just couldn't manage it. She stared, dead pan, with one eyebrow raised questioningly. The burn victim? He obviously meant the guy on the other side of her. Her annoyance tripled, and a sharp frown settled on her lips. "...Go away." Her eyes returned to her glass, but he didn't seem fazed. Instead, he turned around and leaned back against the bar, making sure to flex his arm muscles blatantly. "Playing hard to get, eh? How about I guy you a drink then?" Her hands curled into fists, and Megan felt the warm metal of a pair of hidden brass knuckles bite at her palms under fingerless gloves. Anger boiled to life under the surface of her skin, and a calm settled over her face. "Ladies get free drinks tonight, genius. How about you leave me alone before I do something that you'll regret?" Hopefully he would get her message this time.
... He didn't. The man reached up and took his sunglasses off, an obvious look of aggravation on his face. "Look, you're not exactly the best looking broad in this place, so it would be in your best interest to accept my offer."
"Hey babe, why don't you ditch the burn victim and hang out with a man who's cool as ice?"
Sylus downed the rest of his drink in a single swig. He laguhed quietly to himself at the irony. Perhaps even more so at the man's ridiculous attempt at starting a conversation with the woman to his left.
'has dating changed so much in the last couple of years that this idiot is at the top of the social food chain?' He thought to himself, not wanting to blow his cover in the bar.
The tension in the air around the lady was palpable. An unpleasant grimace seemed to cross her face at the futile attempts of a man who was now giving a display of what is commonly referred to as "the gun show." After less than a minute she had dismissed him with a quick.
"Go away."
This did little to turn away a frater on a mission. Sylus, wanting to stay out of the situation but not being able to qualm his old chivalrous nature, felt his anger grow with each narcissistic comment and gesture that the man made. The sheer stupidity that flowed from the pores of this drunken soon-to-be college dropout was tremendous. Even worse, the woman seemed to be on the verge of violence, and apparently no amount of vehemence or loathing that was placed into a quickly snapped threat could penetrate such a thick head.
The alcohol flowing through the room did not help the situation at all. Luckily for Sylus, his best option was also in line with his emotions. Time to control the situation before any authorities were involved.
"Learn the lesson and walk away, boy, cuz if i don't break you myself, im pretty sure She will." he snarled with a gesture to the lady in black. He stood and centered his balance looking like the peak of calm confidence. That twinkle of madness touched his eyes once again as he stared down the young king of the campus.
The man's reaction was just what was to be expected of a drunken fool. Belligerent, defensive, and with no regards to sensible thought.
"Oh please, old man. Do you have any idea who i am bro?!? Do you even know where you are?" He exclaimed with just the barest hint of a slur on his words.
"Yeah.... your my favorite kind of opponent, big drunk and stupid, and currently im standing about 3 feet from where the paramedics will find your body."
The first swing came suddenly from the mans left arm,with the half empty beer bottle in his hand. Sylus was expecting it and swung his right forearm up in a deflecting block, and with his left arm he slammed a palm into the man's chest, making him stumble back and away from close quarters. The man was livid, stubborn, and more than ready to turn this into an all out brawl.
"Walk away, have another drink, but i wont be responsible for what happens if you continue."
Oh Great... now someone else was involved. The guy right next to her, as it turned out, was just as annoyed with the frat boy as she was. She should have been thankful, really... but she wasn't.
She didn't need some tightwad thinking she was a damsel in distress, not when she was trying so damn hard not be be one. Tapping her fingers on the counter, she listened to the exchange of words with gritted teeth. The first punch was thrown, and she really hadn't been expecting it to come from anyone else. The other guy knocked him back, clearly packing a punch for his age... and she was suddenly reminded of the problem that had driven her to the bar in the first place. Stupid rotten annoying men who thought they knew more than anyone else! She slipped from her seat behind the man with the scars on his hands, clenched a fist at her side, and waited until the frat boy stepped forward again to make her move.
The Ice breath's attention was focused directly on his larger, male opponent. He opened his big fat trap to say something, probably about how the first hit had been a cheap shot, but she was quick to stop him. She stepped out from behind the burned man, took one quick step forward and sent her fist (brass knuckles and all) sailing straight into the frat boys jugular. He jolted back, less from the power of her hit (since she couldn't hit very hard yet) and more from the combined surprise of it, and the pain her hidden weapon dealt to him. One stagger backward turned into a topple off his feet and he collapsed on the floor, choking and spitting.
Megan squared her feet, grinning despite her terrible mood, and tucked her hands into her pockets. "I'd take his advice, Buddy... Before something terrible happens to you." She could feel her stun gun in her pocket, already in a prime position to snatch it up and pull it out.
Frat boy coughed, shot them a hate filled sneer and let a bystander help him to his feet. Those that were close had seen the boy throw the first fist... they had also seen both of his poor attempts at flirting. While one man helped him to his feet, another set about trying to calm him down and usher him off. He threw a raspy thread about returning back at them. Megan responded with a snort, and turned to re-claim her seat.
After stealing another sip of her drink, she wrinkled her nose and glared into the mirror behind the bar. Though there were various bottles stacked up on the shelves, blocking out some of the reflection, she was still able to pin her eyes on the man with the burned hands. "...I didn't need your help, you know."
...It was a half truth, and she knew it. She could normally handle herself against one person... but the guy had been a little bigger than she was used to. Still, she felt just a tiny bit insulted that he had stepped in at all. "... aren't you a little old for an establishment like this anyway?"
"I'd take his advice, Buddy... Before something terrible happens to you."
It appears the woman had more than a little fight to her. Sylus noted that her aim was right on target, hitting the man with what would have been a crippling shot, if she hadn't pulled her punch. Instead the drunk landed flat on his ass and proceeded to grumble and complain about his condition. One of his probable frat brothers helped him to his feet. They both left in a hurry, the injured one muttering something about coming back to "shove his fists down their collective throats."
Sylus grunted, giving the simple gesture a tone of being impressed with the woman's charisma. The action being currently over, he set himself down at the bar once again. The whole scene took less than five minutes, which fit into his plans nicely. Even better, he only lost a couple of sacrifices by keeping the chaos to a minimum. Even though he enjoyed the alternative, this time it was better not to fight. Sylus ordered a beer, no need to be too hazy when the festivities started. The first swig bubbled and the bitter taste of hops filled his throat. He listened as the song changed again to something less mind numbingly loud.
The woman settled back down into her bar stool and sipped her drink.
"...I didn't need your help, you know."
She remarked with more than a little defensive undertone to it. He laughed with a whole new view of the lady he had settled down next to.
"Yeah i figured that out pretty quick. But you got it anyway."
He stared down at his drink and took another swig. It was a rhetorical comment. Sylus had always viewed the past as the past, there was little you could do about it without divine influence.
"... aren't you a little old for an establishment like this anyway?"
He almost choked on his beer. She had hit the nail right on the head. He took a longer swig from his beer to cover up his thought process as he put together a quick, convincing lie.
"You'd be right about that. Makes me feel ancient just sitting here. But i know the owner of this place, He's a good friend of mine and was suppposed to show me a good time in NYC. Better not be in this annoying hellhole."
Shrugging a lazy shoulder, she consented. There was nothing she could do about it now other than gripe, and she'd really rather douse the anger in her belly with alcohol. She really couldn't be mad at him anyway. There would always be those who chose to act like gentleman... or heroes. She knew a few personally.
A grin wound its way onto her lips, and she bothered to actually look at him, rather than at his reflection. His friend owned the bar, and was going to show him a good time? "So... free booze and cheap women then?" That was the kind of fun most guys seemed to be out looking for. "Your friend needs to have his head checked if it turns that he does find this place entertaining. It's only good for free drinks... and even those are half-assed."
She swirled her cup to add a little embellishment to her words, and received the stink eye from the bartender behind the counter. It only served to make her grin widen. "I could point out at least a dozen places in this area better suited for good times." Many of them were better suited for regulars though... New faces tended to receive ill will, unless it was female, that is.
"...I won't though... I'm far too selfish for sharing." With another large sip from her drink, she crossed her legs and set her chin in a palm, resting her elbow on the counter. If she were to offer to tell him where those places were, she would be breaking a contract with herself on not being nice anymore. To anyone. Being nice only ever got you into trouble... and she was tired of getting herself into trouble.
"So... free booze and cheap women then? Your friend needs to have his head checked if it turns that he does find this place entertaining. It's only good for free drinks... and even those are half-assed"
The woman in black was cynical, harsh, bold, and Sylus was enjoying it more by the minute. It was nice to see that he wasn't the only one who hated being in this place. Maybe she wouldn't hate him when he burned it to the ground. He pondered the thought for the moment. She would also be a witness to his ritual., and thus a possible liability. But that was all assuming she got out alive.
A barback returned from a set of stairs behind the bar, carrying a couple of liquor bottles to replace the empties on the shelves. He noted the entryway and added that to a series of mental notes in his ever-shifting plan.
"I could point out at least a dozen places in this area better suited for good times....I won't though... I'm far too selfish for sharing."
She stuck to her loner display. Exuding confidence, independence, and an air of mystery with her words. This all seemed to Sylus to be a constructed defense that reminded him of every person who has ever lived on the street. When you lived day to day, fighting for everything you earned, you tended to play your cards cose to the chest. Even more so you played your emotions the same way. Never let the predators see your weakness.
As for her dozen places that were more fun than this trendy, but annoying bar, Sylus was not surprised. A musical concert that was composed, sung, and orchestrated by 5 year olds would probably be more enjoyable if not for the abundance of alcohol.
"Too selfish huh?" He looked her in the eye. "That seems far too naive for you. Its a tougb world to live in without any help..... no matter how scary you can be or powerful you are." Sylus sighed and finished his beer.
"And when it comes to the fun i plan on havin tonight, it has little to do with women. I haven't played that game in years...... Though the booze you would have right. Free drinks, good food, and an even better cigar would be a good day in my book.........Im Sylus." He said without a handshake or formal gesture.
He ordered one more round for himself and sipped at it slowly. Sylus was not sure if her loner facade would let her tell him her name. He was also not sure he cared. After all, at the end of the night she was most likely to be nothing more than an obituary in the paper, a tally mark on his page, a sacrifice to Scora.
Megan watched him, a lazy, unimpressed expression slapped onto her face. He talked like he knew her, or maybe her type. She doubted that, very much. Even if he did have a point, she was going to ignore it. Because aside from being a tad bit selfish, she was also annoyingly stubborn.
"Oh, and I suppose you will protect me from this harsh, terrible world? Please." A half smirk touched her lips and she shook her head. Aside from the preachy words he had thrown her way, he seemed alright. If he wasn't after tail, or looking to moan about some sob story to her, then he was alright in her books. Someone to sit and drink quietly with... or maybe even talk. Maybe. She raised her cup and chuckled. "I'd tell you to grow up, but.. well..." She chuckled, "..Here's to free booze, though."
Megan finished her glass swiftly, and slapped the empty cup back down on the counter with a happy sigh. Maybe she could actually have a good night, with Mr. Chivalrous at her side and a few more shots in her.
She let a dark eyebrow rise at the name he threw out at her and eyed him for a moment. It wasn't the most friendly of greetings... and she kind of liked that. He didn't bother with offering her a hand, and she wondered if he even expected a response from her. Her little smirk bloomed into a full blown grin, and she pushed her glass away from her, waiting for it to be refilled. He was becoming more fun to hang around as the seconds ticked by.
"...Chelsey." She answered back, just as aloof, and crossed her arms over her chest. She didn't even really notice herself throwing out a fake name... it was more or less a habit by now. Something she did whenever meeting new people, because anyone she didn't already know couldn't be trusted.
Really, she was going to have to try and break that habit some day. ... Maybe. (probably not)
"So... where's your friend the owner? He just dump you here and take off?" He hadn't been there that long at all, but she hadn't seen anyone chatting with him. Just... him. All by his lonesome. She pinned icy eyes back on him and waited, more patiently that she normally would have, for a reply.
"Oh, and I suppose you will protect me from this harsh, terrible world? Please.I'd tell you to grow up, but.. well... ..Here's to free booze, though."
Sylus noted that she had just insulted him....even if done subtly and possibly in good humor. He chose to ignore the comment and rose his glass slightly in the air, silently answering her toast. There was little use in arguing an insult that was true. Most people would say that his best years were behind him, yet Sylus had more control and power over his life than he had ever had before the housefire. In his eyes he was living a second, more meaningful life.
"...Chelsey." The woman broke her shell of mystery and apathy to give him a name. Given the grin on her face, and the bit of mischief in her eyes, Sylus doubted it was real. But at least he could call her something other than the cliched and overly formal "young lady."
He set his half full beer on the bar.
"Well Chelsey, your a big girl, I doubt I need to be superman tonight." He responded, throwing a little insult in himself, with a small grin that echoed her own. The little verbal quip was his way of telling her that neither his age or his chivalry would make him turn the other cheek, he may be old, but there was still plenty of fight in this mangy mutt.
"So... where's your friend the owner?" Chelsey asked with a straight face. If he wasn't completely new in NYC then Sylus might have taken her for an undercover cop, fishing for information. Her questions seemed to pry at the weak points in his lie and the biggest liability in his plan. In any case, ignoring the question would do him little good and only raise suspicion. However, the conversation could not keep coming up to the same question. He decided to turn the questions on their axis.
"Wish I knew." He said with a scowl. " Don't know how much longer I can stand it in here. Feels like the sustained exposure is gonna make my ears start bleeding. But he takes 'fashionably late' to an extreme."
Sylus drank again, leaving a couple more swigs in his beer.
"What're you doing here anyway? Given the scowl you had on when i walked in here, it didn't seem like you were ready for social drinking.....though maybe ready to intoxicate yourself to sleep. Either way you picked the wrong bar in my opinion."
He laughed openly at that. Enjoying the banter of a real human conversation.....it felt like forever since his last.
The superman comment made her grin widen, and she chuckled. The guy knew how to take a jab at his pride gracefully, as well as dish them out. She couldn't really say the same for herself. A little jab when she was in the wrong mood could get a drink thrown in your face.
Thankfully, she had already finished her's and was still waiting for the refill.
"I'd be p!@$ed if I were in your shoes." She started, in response to his excuse as to why his friend wasn't present. She didn't need to put any more thought into his answer than normal, he was just a strange new face, after all. "There's no excuse for dragging anyone you like off to a place like this and then not even bothering to show up on time. Poor manners, If I do say so myself."
The bartender snatched up her glass and refilled it swiftly, just in time for her to snatch it up and hold it up for him to see. "Ladies night. The music might suck, and the people may be awful, but at least the drinks are free." She took a little sip before setting back down on the bar, careful to arranger it in the center of her coaster.
"Unlike most of the herd in here, I don't come to places like this to socialize. I come to drink until people are no longer overbearingly annoying, or, as you put it, to put myself to sleep."
She paused after her commentary to glance over her shoulder at the bar full of twenty-somethings. Many of which were to stupid, or drunk to even count as people anymore... in her opinion, at least.
"Prolly won't be here much longer. Until my headaches all the way gone, at least..." She glanced at him from the corners of her eyes, since she had turned her head back toward the bar. "I say you ditch this friend with poor taste of yours, and go find a more entertaining place to be."
Amazing how talkative the woman who called herself Chelsey could be when she had someone just as annoyed as her to talk to. She commented on the poor manners of the friend in his lie, and even explained her reasoning to drink at this overly trendy, college ridden bar. It was not until she mentioned him leaving the bar that he realized that he now had to add on to his charade once again.
"Well since Ive never been to New York, and your too selfish to tell me a better place. I guess i have two options, sit here and wait for a late friend, or go grovel to the idiots behind us for answers." Sylus said with a chuckle. " tell you this much, you may be losing your headache, but im just starting to grow mine." He laid a final bill on the bar and ordered a shot of jack. "So i think it's about time i headed outside for a cigar......after a shot. I'd rather not have to come back in these doors for one more drink."
The bartender took his money and laid a shot down in front of him. Sylus left it there, taking stock of the current situation in the bar. The time to leave the main room was not yet upon him, but it would have to be soon, since an old friend had entered the bar. It was not the man in Sylus's lie, but instead the man that he had pushed. The drunk, agressive college boy was searching the bar, and had brought a couple of friends with him. One way or another this would throw a wrench into his plan. The only move left to him was to act fast, and start the ritual before any real disturbance.
If Sylus could move with precision and speed, this moron with a vengeful streak and a death wish could be of use. A distraction would be useful.... but Soot could not get involved. He had more important things to do. He turned back to Chelsey and raised the shot.
"To all the idiots in this world, without em we would have no reason to keep drinking."
She shrugged. Common sense told her to just open up and fill him in on more interesting places to be, since she could just leave with him and find herself a more peaceful atmosphere.
... but that was too easy. She had her seat, her had her drinks, and if people were smart enough, she'd have some peace. It didn't matter in the long run if she chose to withhold the hand of friendship by refusing to budge. When he ordered his shot, she lifted her own drink, stealing a sip before he raised his.
"To all the idiots in this world, without em we would have no reason to keep drinking."
Yup. To the idiots. The slow, dimwitted, and dull. The sting of alcohol on her lips brought her eyes back to the mirror behind the counter, but nothing reflected in it captured her attention. She didn't know where the defining line between idiot, genius, or plum insane sat, but she was content to let herself stew in personal judgement for at least a little while. "Good luck with the headache, and finding more worthwhile entertainment.
Her sour mood, though still securely latched on, lifted a little. If anything, she was at least a tad thankful for someone to talk to. Someone that wasn't drooling into a cup, or spouting stories about his shiny new Lamborghini, anyway. She shot the man, Sylus, a genuine Megan smile. Complete with with a sarcastic curl in one corner of her lips, and a lazy wave.
She didn't realize that the baboon from before had come back into the bar. Which, was probably a bad thing. If she had been so inclined to pay attention, she would have noticed his friends too, and being in a bad mood, she probably would have chosen to abandon the bar altogether, rather than risk another headache.
...Alas, she didn't though. With her drink in hand, she sat. On edge because of the music, content because the alcohol was finally getting to work in her system.
Sylus finished the toast to idiocy with a quick swig and a brief smile towards Chelsey. He could not keep a bit of regret from his mood. It may be inescapable, necessary in fact, but a part of Sylus did not want to burn this independent, cynical woman. This same piece of conscience bit him everytime he struck the match and sent a batch of souls to Scora. Somewhere inside his soul, the good man he used to be still existed, and it showed as he walked away from the barfront. Sylus chose to ignore that gnawing thought at the back of his head. After all, one does not ignore the will of a god.
The thug from earlier was slowly making his way towards the bar as Sylus made his departure. The young and boisterous man was a welcome, if unexpected, variable. Sylus had planned on impersonating as a barback to get beneath the bar, but the possible plans of the drunken idiot who started this night may serve Sylus better. If this man planned to start a fight like he had promised to, it would provide ample time for Sylus to get this fire roarin. It could be coincidence or divine intervention, but tonight's ritual was going off without a hitch.
Sylus took his time moving across the room and away from the possible brawl about to happen. He took the time to go over his plan, all possible exits were clear in his head, as was every task that would ensure that Scora got everything he needed for the Forge. He had only offered up 37 souls so far, but if this burn worked, he could possibly even double his sacrifices in one foul swoop.
Sylus slipped one last time back into the slightly foul smelling back hallway, searching for any useful bits he might have skipped over, and preparing for the work ahead. Beyond more rags and a can of aerosol spray cleaner, he found nothing along the lines of fuel for the flames. He did not despair, trusting his speculation that there was plenty of it in the waiting basment.
From the semi-darkness of the back corridor, Sylus leaned back and counted each soul that would soon join Scora in the afterlife, though he didn't really have to.
All the info he needed would hit the Newspapers by morning.
