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.
>> “You are very welcome; it’s the least I can do since I caused the pain…Well that was very thoughtful of you.”
Vicente grinned. Yaaay, he was thoughtful!
>> “I sure hope you are still hungry. I know a bump on the head can sometimes make you feel sick. Do you feel ready to stand up? I’ll help you up; just take it slowly in case you have a concussion ok?”
Vicente had to chuckle a bit. He didn’t know why she was being so caring towards him. After all, it was not like bumping his head was a mortal injury. Sure he was dazed momentarily and it hurt like a MOTHER but he had definitely taken far worse. He was going to be fine and knew his body well enough to grasp that concept. Unfortunately it seemed as if Regan was intent on making sure that all was well. It was sweet, if a little unfamiliar.
“Don’t you worry about that,” he chuckled as he patted his stomach. “I’m always hungry.” She aided in helping him up once Vicente confirmed (again) that he was fine for it. Moving onto his feet, he did feel a momentary tilt of his world but, other than that, the young man seemed absolutely fine! He was ready to go.
Leaning against the counter, Vicente smiled as he reached up and felt the top of his head that had gotten numb from the ice pack. It was definitely feeling better and, as far as he could tell, he didn’t have a concussion. If only Regan believed that too. But, caring was better than not! So, he gave her a firm nod that he was fine and eyed the kitchen around them.
“I swear, I’m in perfect health,” he beamed. “Except for the fact that I am staaaaarving. Come on! Let’s get started. You talked it up so much before that I can’t wait to have it.”
>> “Let me see how bad it is. I’m glad a bump on the head won’t kill you, I’d miss you if it did.”
Vicente smirked at the fawning attention that Regan was giving him. It was strange to be looked over like this, especially when this was someone whom he had really just met. Maybe it was guilt that motivated her but there was something there that really let him know that she cared. In a way that felt pretty good.
Still, though, the pain was already subsiding so there was no reason to for her to look so concerned. But, there was no reason why he couldn’t just take a moment to bask in the attention that he was getting. Besides, even if he wanted to stop her, Regan was already on her feet and moving through the kitchen, grabbing a towel and raiding the fridge for whatever ice that she could find. In silence he just watched her move around so gracefully and he had to smirk to himself.
Before long, she returned and offered him the ice.
>> “Aww, thank you. You look very nice yourself…Here let me put this on your head, it will help with the swelling…What were you doing down in there anyways?”
“Thanks,” he chuckled as she placed the cool ice on his wounded head. It was already helping to numb the radiating pain that he felt pulsating from his skull. With a satisfied smile he just shrugged as he turned back to face her. “Oh, you weren’t here when I showed up so I thought I would get by getting a few of the pots and pans that you may need ready.” He beamed as he offered her that winning smile. “Was just trying to help.”
Ow, that one definitely hurt. Vicente fell back onto his butt while he rubbed the back of his shaved head, feeling the lump already forming where he had bashed his head against the cabinet. This was definitely something that was going to leave a bruise. It was only a good thing that Vicente was no stranger to pain. Had he not been, well, he was fairly certain that this would have hurt a hell of a lot more.
Wincing, Vicente sighed as he rubbed his head but was conscious enough to see that someone had joined him at his side. He recognized the voice as Regan and, when she saw the nicely dressed young woman in the combat boots, he had to smile a tad. Yup, that was definitely her.
>> “Oh my lord Vicente, I’m so sorry! Are you alright? Oh goodness, I didn’t mean to startle you like that. Do I need to get the first aid kit?”
Vicente started to shake his head. His bell was rung, but he knew that he was fine, except for a pretty big bruise and lump by tomorrow. But as he was about to voice this to Regan, he saw the look in her eyes. Wow, she really was taking her little mistake with difficulty, wasn’t she? It was just a mistake! Nothing for her to get overly upset about.
>> “I’m so sorry, I was just so excited to see you Vicente.”
He cracked her a smile as he shook his head.
“Regan, I’m okay,” he said with a smile. “Just a bump on the head. Takes more than that to kill me.” A chuckle fell from his lips as he tilted his head to look at her. “You look nice.”
Head buried in the cabinet, there was really nothing that Vicente could hear. Instead he entertained himself with the notions of what meal that he and Regan were going to be having today. He had been thinking about this meal for awhile now, especially when it seemed to come on the heels of the knowledge that Regan would be staying. He didn’t know why, but he really liked that idea. She was fun to hang around with and there was just some kind of connection there. They understood one another and Vicente really had yet to experience that.
People around the mansion either fawned over him or were terrified of him. He didn’t know why they would be scared since he generally tried to be a nice guy, but maybe they sensed something like the predator in him. He didn’t want to think that was a possibility since he tried to remain as nice as possible, but it did seem probable. Maybe by instinct they just knew.
But whatever. He wasn’t a bad guy. He knew that, and Regan seemed to know that as well. That made him feel--
>> “There you are! Are you trying to hide from me down there?”
THWACK!![/b]
“OWWW!!”
--pain.
Surprised by the sudden voice, Vicente had attempted to straighten up but had only ended up knocking himself on the back of the head in a rather painful manner. For a moment he only saw red and black stars as he groaned and pulled himself out from the cabinet, a frying pan in his hand. Wincing and rubbing the back of his head, he raised his gaze to kitchen around him. Who was psychotic enough to startle someone with their head in the cabinet!?
“Regan?” he asked, his eyes stinging from the pain at the back of his head.
Tonight was finally the night! It had been a couple days since he first showed Regan around the mansion and took her to get signed up. So far it seemed as if she were pleased with the place but she was dead set to keep that escape clause open. He could understand that. As fantastic as the mansion was, it was difficult to want to commit, especially when it means loading up a ton of trust. He didn’t want to make it seem like the mansion had ALL the answers. It very well couldn’t for someone like Regan.
But he hoped it would.
That, though, would not be paramount on his mind right now. Instead he just wanted to focus on having a good time tonight with a friend. She had eventually found her way over to him and decided to make good on their promise to have dinner.
Vicente was only too happy to accept.
So tonight was the night! Feeling that he should be a bit more dressed than he normally would, Vicente had opted for a nice pair of jeans and a long gray sweater that still clung slightly to his muscular form. Unfortunately having the small job he did have, he didn’t have much in the way of expendable cash when it came to clothes. But he managed to find a couple of good pieces for cheap.
Feeling like he had accomplished the look he was going for, Vicente had made his way down to the kitchen and found…that he was alone. Huh. A quick glance to the clock proved that he was a tad early. He was sure that she would appear any second. But since he didn’t want to just wait there doing nothing, he figured he could at least be of help! Maybe he could grab a few pots, pans, and such just to get things started?
Yes, that was a good idea.
Opening the doors, Vicente went in search of the necessary cookware. That was why he was bent over, head buried in the cabinet as he began to gather a few pots and pans and not really able to hear anyone approaching from behind…
Vicente awoke with a start. Sitting up in his bed, Vicente lashed out with his fist, swearing that he could feel the fires of that flame-engulfed man wrapping around him. But as the second past, as he realized that he had just driven his fist into the wall, he began to slowly calm and realize that such a thing had not happened. He was awake; truly and in reality away from anymore nightmares. Tangled in his sheet, Vicente pulled them away as he looked around his room. Everything was exactly the way it was before he had gone to sleep.
Glaring at his alarm clock, he saw that it was about 3am. It felt like he had been asleep for days rather than only a few hours.
He groaned as he tilted his head to the side; the tension in his neck was killing him. God, that was one hell of a dream! And he could still remember most of it. He couldn’t believe that he could even conceive of having a dream like this. What were they?
Sensing that they were important, Vicente shot out of bed and moved over to his desk where there was a notebook of paper. Grabbing both that and a pen from his drawer, Vicente flicked on the light and paced his room as he began to write down everything that he could remember from it. It was sad how quickly all these thoughts began to flutter away from him. Dreams were so…airy that with but a puff they disappeared into the ether of the cosmos.
But he would do his best to wrangle in those details that he could remember. He didn’t know why, but he felt like he had made some type of breakthrough today.
A scary breakthrough; but a breakthrough nonetheless.
Vicente couldn’t understand what was going on. All he knew was that staring at both of these figures before him, he felt like there was indeed something important going on. His own father was telling him to fix whatever path he was on, but the other (maybe an uncle or grandfather) was standing in the fires and telling Vicente that it was too late. What happened to his life to result in something like this? What kind of person had he become?
Shaking his head, Vicente began to back away from the pair of them. They were staring one another down, shouting that each was wrong about what Vicente’s life was going to be like. He couldn’t possibly know what to make of it so he simply continued to back away, trying to get some sense of normalcy again.
But the only way he could achieve that was to wake up, right? But how to wake himself up from this?
It’s only a matter of time, kid,[/b] the flame engulfed monster said. Before long you will find out exactly what you are and when that happens, you will pick up exactly where you left off. There’s no going back. There is no road to fix!!
Don’t believe him, son, his father shouted. It is never too late. You can alter your path. You just need to remember th—
SLICE!!
Vicente watched, wide-eyed, as the man in flames drove a knife straight through his father’s heart. The young chimera started to back away, watching as blood poured out of father in torrents. The man sank down to his knees but his eyes were pleading for Vicente to run.
Vicente could do no less. Turning his back to the fire engulfed man, Vicente ran his heart out, running in any direction that was going to take him away from the murderer who had arrived by the fires. But even as he ran, he could still hear his laughing voice following him, licking across his back like the very flames that embodied him. Despite the sensation, Vicente didn’t stop. He ran…and ran…and ran with his father’s voice still in his head, pleading with him to change…[/i]
A new figure arrived. This time he was born from the very fires of the campfire itself. But what made it worse was that Vicente recognized the voice that spoke. It was the same one that haunted him when he first “woke up” from the dream and was bombarded with again when he had eaten the coyote head. It was that dark and malevolent voice that Vicente had been trying to escape from. But, sure enough, it was there, the owner of it had arrived and of course in the most malevolent way possible.
The man, tall, muscular, with long black hair and a thick mustache, smirked as he held a cigar between his lips. His body was partially engulfed in flames to the point that Vicente really couldn’t see his body. But was he catching the vague outline of tattoos? Who was this guy?
Peering out of the fires, the man peered closely at Vicente’s father before looking at Vicente himself. Using the fires around him to light his cigar, he chuckled as he inhaled the thick, black smoke and bellowed out a cloud.
Been a long time,[/b] the man said darkly. Good to see you again.
Vicente stared dumbfounded at the malevolent entity that had addressed him. After a second or two, he finally found his voice again and responded.
W-Who are you?
The man grinned. Not too bright are you? That’s okay. With time you’ll remember.
No. He’ll make the right decisions this time, Vicente’s father interjected. You won’t happen again. He’ll fix the path.
Hah, fix the path? Old man, the path is broken and soaked in blood. There’s no fixing it. You,[/b] he said as he pointed to Vicente. Will be back.[/i]
Vicente offended gods? He never would have assumed so much about himself. Even though he still was not sure what he believed in when it came to his spiritual side, he had to admit that the idea was terrifying. Just what kind of person was he before he lost his memories? Was he really that bad of a kid that the gods themselves, whatever pantheon they belonged to, were offended by his actions? What did he even do?
Shaking his head, Vicente just sat there, staring at the ground and trying to contemplate everything that was falling on him. This place, this desert, was so familiar so it was obviously a memory. He would have to do his best to memorize this dream completely, to try to pull out all the nuances so that he could analyze when he woke up. Something had to lead him to who he was. Anything…
But as he found himself trying to take everything in, he was suddenly surprised to see the old man, his father, standing by his side. Quickly Vicente moved to his two feet and stared down at the man who was before him. He was shorter but he could feel a power exuding from him that Vicente knew he didn’t want to mess with. If anyone was his father, this man had to be.
Still trying to find his voice, Vicente shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot as he looked at the man. He was just a dream, but he was his father too. What could he say?
Dad…I…
The old man shook his head firmly.
No, son. You are a Nahual, the changing sorcerer. You don’t apologize. You fix. Fix the path that you are on. It is the only way.
Only way? But…what’ll happen if—
You’re poking into business that isn’t your’s…old man…
Vicente sat there, slackjawed as he stared at the man across from him. Did he really just call him son? Was he staring at his father right now? Was he remembering something important? He had to admit as he sat there, looking across at the fire, at the stones, ritualistic items, and even the flat rock that one held the coyote head, everything looked so familiar. It was almost as if he were actually remembering something major but there was such a disconnect in his head that he couldn’t make the connection.
Why? Why would he keep himself from remembering something like this? He had been trying to look for who he was for months now with absolutely no spark of memory. Why would he bury all this?
His eyes turned back to the old man who was sitting across him from. That silent ferocity and tenderness that Vicente himself hoped he embodied was staring at him. The two locked gazes and for a moment Vicente knew that indeed he was staring at someone who was his father. Maybe it was just a dream, but right now, he didn’t care. It was a piece of himself that he found. That couldn’t be wrong, right?
Dad? he asked cautiously. What’s going on? Why can’t I remember anything?
The old man smirked, the deep wrinkles around his eyes showing both age and a hard life. But the smile itself showed a man that was happy with what he believed and not age or rough years could ever take that away.
But his answer would remain just as mysterious as all those Vicente had been getting so far.
You’re not ready, son, the man said honestly. You’ve strayed so far from your path. But gods are giving you a second chance. Another chance to make things right and to give honor to their names again.
Before long, the voice and the images finally began to stop. They quieted slowly and Vicente could slowly feel the tension in his body unwinding. He didn’t know what all that was about but he definitely didn’t want to face it again. It was dark, bloody, and something that he didn’t really want to associate with again. But why did he see them? Why would the old man sitting across the fire show him something like this?
You’re mind his fractured, the old man said in answer. There are so many pieces from so many places that they are beginning to jumble. That is why it hurts you so much. You apparently are not ready yet?
Vicente breathed heavily before he finally started to push himself up into a sitting position. He didn’t want to hear that old man or the voices again. He didn’t know what was going on but he was getting pretty damn irritated by the whole ordeal.
In silence he reached up and touched his face but he quickly found that he had not shifted. He had eaten the whole of the coyote head that was placed before him, he knew it because he could still taste the coppery tang of blood in his mouth. He was sure he heard the sounds of his bones shifting and changing too but for whatever reason he had reclaimed his human head? What happened there?
He sighed as he looked up at the old man who beamed at him proudly from across the fire. He didn’t know who this guy was and yet that air of familiarity was completely undeniable.
He knew this man.
What’s happening to me? he finally asked. How do you know me?
As damaged as your memories are, Nahual, the old man said. I had hoped you would have at least pieced together who I am…son.
The voice tore through his mind and Vicente was having a hard time keeping his focus. All he knew was that this voice…it scared him. It was familiar, it was cold, and it scared him down to the very core of his soul. He didn’t know what it was about it but all he knew was that he didn’t want to hear it again. He wanted to run as far away from that voice as he could, but he couldn’t. it was there, like an angry bee buzzing and bumping everything inside of his cranium. Only it was not looking for a way out. It was looking to stay in.
Crack! Shift!! Pop!!!
Vicente could feel everything. He felt his head changing shape, the bones reshaping like it usually did whenever he had used his abilities. But what made it worse this time were the images he was seeing behind his eyes. Besides the sounds of that terrible voice, he saw pictures of blood. Blood and death were everywhere around him. Hundreds of soulless bodies just laid there, on the ground, cut to ribbons or shot or various other forms of death.
It was too much. It was simply too much for him to take. They tried to bury in deeper into his mind but Vicente simply couldn’t allow it. He had to keep fighting, to keep pushing it all away, but a couple managed to make it deeper into his subconscious. Like grubs they gnawed at his insides and he felt each and every agonizing bite.
Stop it!! he cried out. Stop it now!!!
He flailed and retched and tore at everything around him. He would make this stop! He had to make this stop!! That terrible voice needed to stop talking!!!
>> “You know…one of the first things they tell you, is never look someone you are about to kill in the eyes…They haunt you forever…But…I love looking them in the eyes. I love seeing the light behind them fade away. I want to remember what they will look like for all time…”
>> “Trust me, you’re worse. I am a killer. Sure. But I just do it for money. You…You’re a killer just because you’re plan psycho.”
>> “Tehs-cah-tlee-poh'-cah…That’s how you pronounce the name…He was one of the omnipotent gods. Both he and his brother Quetzalcoatl joined forces to create the world. While Quetzalcoatl is the hero, Tezcatlipoca is his anti-thesis. God of the night, the dead, warriors, and main rival to his brother. He is not some…boogeyman…to startle children. Though…he is definitely not a deity you care to cross.”
>> “Come out, come out…Dying isn’t all that bad, little demon. Besides, the sooner you get it over with…the better…The longer you drag this out…the less patient I become…”
>> “I’m not running a hotel here, sweetheart, And you’ve caused me more than enough damage, money, and sanity then I’d like to mention. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t hack your goddamn hand off, Megan, and call it even for ruining my job on that bridge?”
There was no way that Vicente was going to do this. Even in a dream, there was no way that he was going to eat the head of a coyote, raw! It was disgusting! What was this man thinking? Or rather, why the hell was Vicente even dreaming about this? Sure he liked some pretty interesting horror movies but he couldn’t remember seeing anything that at all could remind him of this mess. It just didn’t make any sense! Why would he dream about wanting to eat something raw like this?
He shook his head in protest. Or…at least that is what he wanted to do. Instead he felt his arms moving on their own accord, reaching forward. Some will was exerting itself over his limbs to a point that he had no control anymore! As much as the thought made him recoil, he felt his fingers brushing through the bloodstained fur before taking on a firm grip. Then, he lifted the beast’s head and Vicente was nearly overcome with the very smell of it. It was so gross and disgusting…but…appealing at the same time! What was going on? He was not like this!!
No….please… he muttered.
But his voice was soon muffled as he felt the meat brush his lips. In the back of his mind he wanted to gag, he wanted to recoil further, but his body pushed him on. The last he felt was his mouth opening, hungrily, as something took over his mind. An unsatisfied hungry that wanted nothing more than to devour what he held in front of him.
And he did.
Meanwhile, as Vicente did the unthinkable, across the fire the old man simply smiled and nodded his head. He was pleased. The gods were pleased…
Vicente just wasn’t sure what to make of this. Standing there, watching the hunched figure hidden by flames, he glanced around. Why was his head hurting all of a sudden? It was as if the extreme familiarity of this place were shoving in at the back of his skull, making him close to screaming out in pain. God, he wanted nothing more than for the pain to stop but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this place was important. Why?
The figure moved and Vicente looked up. Suddenly he could see the figure just a little more clearly. It was a man, old and wisened with age, but with a ferocity about him that Vicente both feared and respected. But damn his face was far too familiar!! Who was this guy?
Sit, the old man said, motioning to the spot in front of the stone with the decapitated head.
Vicente eyed both the man and the spot that he pointed to. Gah, that just seemed so absolutely terrifying. Why would he even considering sitting there next to something so disgusting? He shook his head and was about to protest when the man suddenly moved to his feet.
SIT, NAHUAL! he growld. Don’t offend the gods!
Spurred by the booming voice, Vicente quickly sat down at the spot he was originally pointed to. Once he sat, he found himself looking between the bloodied head and the man who had reclaimed his seat as well. Once he was down in front of the fire, his face lit up and Vicente could see his features more closely. He was old, graying beard, but there was such strength in his features that it actually made Vicente quake a little. This guy obviously demanded respect.
Good, the man said in a much gentler voice. Now, eat the offering bestowed upon you. Do not argue.
Vicente as confused for a moment. What was the man referring too? But then his eyes fell to the coyote remains before him. Needless to say, his stomach turned at the prospect. What was this?