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.
This was one thing she really, really hated about girl days - you couldn't be out and about on your own without being hit on, insulted, whistled at, frowned at, or worried about. It was only a party, for heaven's sake. And yes, she was underage, but heck, most people were, they just looked older with all those layers of make-up. Bouncers didn't bounce pretty girls. They would have definitely bounced Maya in her baggy pants and sweatshirt. Good thing she didn't use the door to enter. Now, in the wee hours of the morning - or late at night... really, it depends on how you look at it - she was walking down a street towards Central Park, and she was aware of the two figures who had been following her since she left the club. She could have just slipped into a mirror. Sure. She just... didn't feel like it. She was a bit light headed and a bit... lazy. So she just walked. They followed. It was either muggers (look at me, idiots, do I look like I've got money?), guys looking for female company (oh they have nooo idea...), drug dealers (sucks to be you), cops (flash that badge, dude), or the worst of all - social workers. She hated social workers. They were always trying to mess up her perfect life. Walking a bit faster, she finally decided to phase and get out of this... she was just looking for a mirror of some kind. Any kind. She needed to put some space between herself and those two. No need to show them the trick. There was a coffee shop with lights on. She glanced in through the window; it was just a mere glance, just to see if there were people in there, because Mom always said 'if you are being followed go into a place with many people'. Yeah, right. 'Many' was an overstatement - there were four or five people in the shop, plus the bartender. Who happened to be Rupert.
The trickster did not miss a step as she walked in through the door; a huge, bright, innocent grin spread out on her face as she walked to the counter. I hope you're all watching. She hopped; pushing herself up off the ground, she leaned onto and over the counter, and pressed a quick kiss onto the mutant-hater's face. "Hi Daddy. Sorry for makin' ya wait."
Posted by Rupert Kelley on Nov 25, 2009 2:15:04 GMT -6
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It was rush hour at Insomniacs Anonymous. The regular crew had wandered in as midnight gave way to the graveyard shift; they ordered the same coffee as always, the same sandwich, and sat in the same seat. There was a bit of conversation. Mostly, though, there was staring up at the little TV-on-mute, and light curses as boiling caffeine hit coffee-scared tongues. There were four people at the counter; Lenard was just on his way out. Four people, and Rupert.
The door chimed, but Lenard hadn’t left yet. The ex-cop looked away from the mute TV.
A hop; palms spread out over the polished counter, as a short someone made themselves taller. Taller, and more invasive.
He had time to register a grin in a cherubic face, before it puckered down towards his grizzled cheek.
>> “Hi Daddy. Sorry for makin' ya wait.”
Rupert hadn’t slept in thirty six hours. He didn’t work at a place called Insomniacs’ Anonymous because he tucked in with a teddy bear and smiled at the sun every morning. So if he took an inappropriate time assessing the chest that had just put it self in front of him, write it off to the sleep deprivation. It certainly wasn’t attraction. The face. The attitude.
The brat.
Rupert met her eyes, and smiled back with sickly sweetness. “Hi, honey. I haven’t seen you since the sex change.”
Maya's grin grew even wider. Sweet old Rupert. Oh this was going to be so much more fun than she'd expected. And they had an audience too. Turning around, she settled down on top of the counter, legs dangling over the side, and she dropped her backpack to the ground. Glancing at him over her shoulder, she winked.
"Right back at ya, old man. That apron is just a-do-ra-ble."
The she proceeded to take off the sweatshirt. She was wearing the usual tank top under it, and she shook out her hair, turning back to him with a proud smile.
"Amazing, isn't it? My girl loves the new look."
Now they were definitely getting some weird looks from the early morning coffee drinkers. Maya proudly noted that at the moment they were a much more popular kind of entertainment than the TV on mute. The two figures - whoever they were - passed by outside the shop; they might or might not have lingered in the shadows to look in, but they definitely moved on, and it was a good sign. With that worry out of the way, it was all fun and games. Sweet.
Posted by Rupert Kelley on Nov 25, 2009 3:18:22 GMT -6
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(S)he parked her rear. On his countertop. A muscle above Rupert’s left eye gave a single, pronounced twitch. And that was before she mocked the apron.
Before the strip-tease, as well. Three of the regulars were trying to be covert about their stares; the fourth was grinning over his mug.
>> "Amazing, isn't it? My girl loves the new look."
“Dollface,” Rupert oozed through gritted teeth, picking up the discarded sweater and dropping it over that swishy-hair head of hers with a flick of his fingers. “What’d I tell you about saving that for the club? Your girl don’t get her ten percent, you’re not going to be her favorite anymore.”
What the hell was she doing, getting half-naked? On his countertop. In front of his indecently leering old men. Rupert gave the grinning one a hard glare. Little Miss Chromosome Confusion here was clearly underage: you do not eye up minors in his coffee shop.
Maya noted the face twitch in her Big Book of Success. Her expertise in annoying the mutant hater was getting even better by the minute. Thanks for the feedback. Her sweatshirt landed on her head. She rolled it up in a bundle and unceremoniously dropped it on top of her backpack.
>>“Dollface."
Now that earned a twitch for Rupert's score of success. If she was Gawain, he might have said something not fit for human consumption - but she was not ready to ruin the whole dysfunctional family idyll by reacting the easy way. Instead, she just smirked, and tilted her head back towards him to listen.
>>"What’d I tell you about saving that for the club? Your girl don’t get her ten percent, you’re not going to be her favorite anymore.”
She grinned. That's more like it.
"Oh c'mon Daddy, y'know I'm better than that. I wouldn't ever ruin your credit in the club. The girls have been askin' about ya."
A quick glance at the audience. They were still staring. She couldn't tell if it was her impromptu strip act or the ad-hoc conversation. Probably the latter. Maya didn't look that hot. Of course for a middle-aged single male who drinks coffee at 3am in a bar anything with a chest might look appealing. The Gawain part of her brain wanted her to frown in disgust. Ew.
Posted by Rupert Kelley on Nov 25, 2009 3:52:57 GMT -6
Haven
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Aug 29, 2018 17:15:00 GMT -6
Calley
>> "Oh c'mon Daddy, y'know I'm better than that. I wouldn't ever ruin your credit in the club. The girls have been askin' about ya."
...Brat. Long after she flitted back out into whatever hell shadow of the night had spawned her, he’d be stuck here, with a mute TV and these four men. And the next night, and the next night.
Rupert’s grin stretched out, showing teeth.
“How’s your mother doing at her new act? What was it again—disappearing?”
Mother. Act. Disappearing. Rupert just made this personal. Maya's face changed from cheeky to murderous in an instant. Her hands clenched into fists with a force that made her knuckles go white. She drew in a deep breath through her nose as she stared forward, at the door of the shop and outside, not that she saw anything she was looking at. All she saw was a curiously vivid shade of red. Son of a... It was one smooth motion. One minute she was sitting on the counter with her back to him, the next she lifted her body with ease, almost like one of her dance moves, feet in the air, and then she was facing him, one knee on the counter, one foot among the bottles and glasses behind it, one hand grabbing the front of the apron, the other behind her back. Her voice was dangerously quiet. "Say. What. About. My. Mother?"
Posted by Rupert Kelley on Nov 25, 2009 4:37:54 GMT -6
Haven
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Aug 29, 2018 17:15:00 GMT -6
Calley
Sudden silence. Deep breaths. Four men finding somewhere else to look. All signs pointed to a direct hit. Briefly, Rupert felt an uneasy knot in his stomach: the start of guilt. The kid was a brat—and a gender confused one, at that—but she (he?) was still just a—
Street dirtied shoes clattered against his cups, and a fist wound itself into his apron front.
Well. There you go, then. Guilt averted.
>> "Say. What. About. My. Mother?"
Rupert leaned in over her arm, closer to her face. His muddy hazel eyes drowned with sincerity. “Your mother,” he stated, “is the kindest, funniest, most caring woman to ever leave her freak of a son out with the street trash.”
He patted the hand gripping his apron front; pat, pat. “Don’t worry, Sweetie Pie. I’m sure she had her reasons. Besides, she knew you’d make a way for yourself, eating breakfast in strange men’s apartments.”
Come on, old man. Give me a reason to sucker punch you. It would do my mood a world of good.
Maya held her ground - counter top, really - some shattered glass crunching under her trainer as she shifted her weight. Staring into Rupert's eyes, she tried to see what he was thinking about... and failed. She hadn't spent enough time with sincere people yet to see the difference.
>>“Your mother is the kindest, funniest, most caring woman to ever leave her freak of a son out with the street trash.”
That was something new. Maya was pretty sure that in the past three years she got to the bottom of humankind's supply of creative humiliation. Well, she did not. Her cheeks flushed deep red. Pat pat.
>>“Don’t worry, Sweetie Pie. I’m sure she had her reasons. Besides, she knew you’d make a way for yourself, eating breakfast in strange men’s apartments.”
She pulled her hand back suddenly, almost lost her balance in the process. Leaning away from him, there was a frown of disgust on her face as she shook her head.
"Ya're one sick son of a b*tch, Rupert." she grunted "No wonder ya're alone... Oh, wait. I almost forgot about the poodle."
Posted by Rupert Kelley on Nov 25, 2009 5:25:12 GMT -6
Haven
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Aug 29, 2018 17:15:00 GMT -6
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Their audience was down to two. Rupert wasn’t sure when the others had snuck out, but he was glad to see a few bills left on the counter where one of them had been sitting. The other? He’d be back another night. Rupert would shake him down for it, then.
Red cheeks and a full recoil, to the point where she almost feel over. One thing was clear: Rupert had won.
Show the man his prize: one teenager, freshly disgusted. Just another proud day in the life of Rupert Kelley, ex-somebody.
>> "Ya're one sick son of a b*tch, Rupert. No wonder ya're alone... Oh, wait. I almost forgot about the poodle."
“Least I’ve got a poodle,” Rupert replied, easing out of her face. “What have you got? A picture of mom?—Or did she even leave you one of those? Do you even know where the hell you’re sleeping tonight, Gawain?”
He had won. The first round. Maya had to admit that as she sat back on the counter, lifting her foot and shaking the glass shards off. It tasted bitter. And familiar. She was glad to be a girl right now; at least there was some dignity left for Sir Gawain. Her eyes burned hot but she refused to care.
>>“What have you got? A picture of mom?—Or did she even leave you one of those? Do you even know where the hell you’re sleeping tonight, Gawain?”
She also refused to answer the first question. Yes she did have a picture. More than one, actually. But damned if she was willing to show any of them to Rupert. As for the second question... well, it was easier.
"Maya. My name is Maya. For now." she frowned at him "An' I've got friends, ya moron. Ya sent me to the freak school, remember?"
Well, she was not living there. But she could. As well as she could live anywhere else, really. But the answer was still the same. Yes, she did have a place to sleep. Hopefully.
Posted by Rupert Kelley on Nov 25, 2009 5:48:19 GMT -6
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Aug 29, 2018 17:15:00 GMT -6
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>> "Maya. My name is Maya. For now."
She frowned at him. He returned the expression, with all due love. Maya, was it? Cute.
>> "An' I've got friends, ya moron. Ya sent me to the freak school, remember?"
That surprised him for a moment, and it showed on his face—she’d actually taken his advice? Gawain hadn’t struck him as the advice-taking type. Then the frown returned.
“If you’ve got a home—” his tone made it clear that he was dubious on that point, at best, “—then what are you doing wandering the streets so late? What the hell is that smell on your clothes—cigarette smoke and liquor? Last I checked, they didn’t let your kind into clubs.” ‘Her kind’—obvious minors. His frown was distinctly disapproving; he visibly sized her up, from glass shard speckled shoes to tank top. The bandage was gone, but he’d seen a fresh scar on her shoulder. The Mansion had a healer—a mutie healer. You didn’t get scars like that with mutie healing.
‘Gawain’ hadn’t been that thin, had he?
“When was the last time you had a decent meal?” Rupert asked, his eyes narrowed. Not that he gave a damn.
She was not aiming to surprise him, but she still did, and she could see it in his face too. What, he thought she's just keep wandering in mirrors forever? Not like he was the one who made her go to the school. He was not nice enough to achieve that. Or convincing. Not to mention female, teenage and... pink-haired. Damn.
>>“—then what are you doing wandering the streets so late? What the hell is that smell on your clothes—cigarette smoke and liquor? Last I checked, they didn’t let your kind into clubs.”
She shrugged the classic signature shrug of teenagers caught in the act of sneaking out.
"I was out dancing." not that it was any of his business "I need ta practice. And I don' need to be let in, remember?" she grinned. "Don't worry Daddy I don't smoke. And I ain't drunk either. Smart girl, see?"
>>“When was the last time you had a decent meal?”
She prepared a second shrug, but it never happened; the thought of the breakfast she had with Rupert came rushing back and made her stomach growl. Shoot. Trust it to Maya to get hungry after hours of dancing and some shots. She sighed. She had a couple of decent meals. She did. One with Other Maya, and a great deal of food at the wedding too. But because she still hadn't decided on going back to school, she still didn't have a solid meal plan. She added the issue to her pro-con list about the Mansion.
"Dunno. Yesterday, probably." quick glance at the clock "or the day before."
Posted by Rupert Kelley on Nov 25, 2009 7:46:10 GMT -6
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Smart girl, see? So damn smart, she couldn’t even keep herself fed. Rupert harrumphed the deeply satisfied harrumph of a grump whose point had just been made, and turned to the steel-doored refrigerator next to the little stove. Insomniacs Anonymous was a coffee shop first, and a food joint second. Which was why—aha—this package of beef was going bad. Or had gone bad. Dunno—yesterday, probably. Or the day before. He’d been planning to bring it home, and make something out of it; the law, after all, said he couldn’t serve it to costumers
Last he checked, though, Maya wasn’t a customer.
“You like Reubens?” Rupert asked, staring across the counter. It was the kind of stare that said unless you’ve got a sauerkraut allergy engraved on a medical alert bracelet, that’s what you’re getting.
He slapped the sandwich together: dressing on the bread, cheese, sauerkraut, beef. The whole thing got tossed in a pan to toast, while he got back to giving disapproving looks. While cleaning a mug out, to make sure a certain charming young lady hadn’t gotten glass shards in it.
“Not ‘drunk’. So you have been drinking.” He left it as a statement, frowning at the kid. How old was he/she, again? Sixteen? Even if she’d been Gawain, that was damn young to be out drinking alone. For a girl—for whatever damn reason she’d decided to make herself a girl—that was just stupid. The drinking this young and drinking alone, both.
Rupert dried off the mug, and put it under the coffee maker’s spout; hot water hissed in. He took a white packet out from under the counter, and shook out the contents.
Seriously, why the hell was he a girl? What—for the free drinks? She certainly didn’t mind taking her top off in front of men. He stirred the drink, and reached for a bag of marshmallows under the counter.
No. You know what? No marshmallows for tipsy teenagers. Rupert pushed the mug of hot chocolate across the counter as-is, and went to flip the Rueben. No coffee for teenagers, either. The last thing he wanted Maya on was a caffeine high.
She was getting fed. By Rupert. Again. What was it with him and motherly instincts? Not that she had anything against it. Free food was good. Especially when she was about to starve to death in the middle of a coffee shop. It was just... a tad weird, from him, offering food minutes after he'd been threatened. Sorta. Not to mention the glass shards on the counter. She kept an eye on his hands making sure some of those shards didn't en up in her sandwich. By accident.
>>“Not ‘drunk’. So you have been drinking.”
She rolled her eyes and wondered if he would fret over Gawain like this too. She wouldn't have been surprised if that would have been the case - most people had some trouble wrapping their minds around the gender-change thing. Seeing the same person in the two bodies. It was only natural. She had the same problem too.
"Yeah. Couple of shots." she shrugged "Part of the competition, y'see."
The explanation was cut short as Rupert pushed the mug over to her on the counter. Shifting her weight she tucked one leg under her, and dangled the other on the outside of the counter. Picking up the mug she sniffed at the contents. Her eyebrows arched in surprise.
"Hot chocolate? Seriously?" she looked up at him, and she had dimples on her cheeks "Sweet."
