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.
My character wants to be a doctor someday. Then again, the death of people he cares about can make him resurrect them into thralls, so maybe a career change is in order. Cool character, now I know where to go to if Miles gets beaten to a pulp someday.
The young mutant entered the building followed by his dogs, who simply refused to leave his side unless commanded and Miles was too enthralled to worry about the possibility of freaking people out with their presence. He was introduced to something that DID NOT ressemble a shelter at all. In fact, the only thing missing were the bell boys. From his point of view, everything was over the top and far surpassed his expectations. They had every possible accomodation available, including pool tables, a pinball machine and OH MY GOD! Foosball! He loved spinning those little guys nonsensically and smacking the ball out of the table.
He sported a gleeful smile all the way through the different rooms and areas. These guys were set! They could train, read, live and eat at their leisure and a part of his brain still wondered what was the catch? Maybe there were some rich mutants out there who could crap gold or some such and they forked the bill, but his mind wasn't in a hurry to wonder about those details. He was absorbing it all in until he saw his first, non-normal looking mutant.
This was probably the part Syn meant about keeping an open mind. He'd read about this, he'd heard about this and his skin could turn black under very special circumstances, but catching a glimpse of his very first 'out of the ordinary' looking mutant was a humbling experience. He hated his own mutation and thought it was some kind of genetic curse which Syn was adamant to exalt into something to be proud of, but looking at some of the Sanctuary residents made him glad his mutation was not a 24 hour deal. He wore a concerned expression at first but then realized he shouldn't, reminding himself that was the very same expression his own father had when they figured out Miles was a mutant. He had hated that look with a burning passion and he figured the other mutants would hate it as well. They were not sick, maimed or crippled. There was nothing to be concerned about. They were mutants, just like he was and they were now his kin.
When Syn offered to take him to catch his first meal of the day, his mouth watered. "Oh, definitely!" he answered, gesturing to his dogs to follow as well, even though they wouldn't be having anything. He had noticed the dogs no longer cared for food and had tagged it as something to look into at some point.
As they walked towards the dining room, a veiled girl appeared at the end of the hallway and she seemed to be heading their way. At first, she looked like she was wearing a porcelain mask but as she got closer, he noticed the white of the mask was her skin and what he thought were holes, were actually her eyes.
Miles was expecting a homeless shelter. A small building with dirty walls, shaggy looking folks here and there, no air conditioning or many commodities... he certainly wasn't expecting a huge, big ass building with shiny, golden doors. His mouth dropped.
He had been hesitant on his way over. For some reason he felt his initial behavior towards Syn had reverted back to his more cautious, less trusting of strangers persona. And what the hell had been wrong with him back there? 'Call me Inches?' Really? No one outside his family called him that and they only did it to tease him or as a joke. Oh, and why, why, WHY did he have to mention the pants!?
Luckily for him, Syn had taken it all in stride and stuck to calling him Miles, as he had already realized his first impression of her had been completely off the mark. Her name and looks may be those of a rock star, but she spoke kind of like an english lit major or something. She also had views he still didn't agree with, but he'd given her the benefit of the doubt, for where else could he go? Better with the stranger who wanted to help than on his own and if she tried anything funny, she'd have to deal with the dogs first.
Every single word she had said had been true, though. There WAS a sanctuary for mutants, as incredible as that was for him to grasp. His eyes wandered, looking at all the walls and windows as she encouraged him to keep an open mind.
"Are you sure you've got the right address?" he asked. "We could've taken a wrong turn somewhere. This place is huge!"
She didn't open the doors right away, since he hadn't agreed to the "open mind" compromise. He'd never been the close minded sort before, so it wasn't difficult for him to give her a polite nod.
Miles obeyed, for what else could he do, his friend had requested him to go with her and he would oblige. Her name was Syn. He thought it was either a pseudonym or just plain foreign, mostly because he couldn't picture an american mother knowingly naming her baby daughter "sin". He was about to bluntly point that out when she suddenly complimented him.
He beamed. He blushed. The lady was not only hot, she had a way with words too! She was quite observant as well, since Miles was in desperate need of a close encounter with a bar of soap, clothes and all. He lowered his head and raised his shoulders with an impish smile drawing on his face but said nothing. His thralls were standing still, waiting for their master's next command, ready to follow him anywhere.
And all he did was follow her. Like a good little lapdog.
There was something about this woman Miles simply couldn't place. She was alluring and mystical, her words were so convincing and he didn't know why. Every word she said felt so logical and natural, so much so that nothing felt out of place. Kind of like when you're having a dream and all of a sudden you grow a second head and you don't mind because you think it makes perfect sense.
The teenager was already vulnerable to suggestion even before he had bumped into her. He was hungry, alone and lost in a strange city. Even though he normally had a responsible, tactical thinking head on his shoulders, prone to evading and keeping his personal dilemmas to himself, he was secretely desperate for a helping hand. To have his already fragile state of mind bombarded with pheromones was overkill and it had completely crumbled his defenses. Any feelings of doubt or caution had been completely washed away and he felt an excessive yet undeserving sense of trust on the woman.
She came from a place called 'Sanctuary'. As in 'sanctity'. As in 'saints'. Her description made it sound excatly like the sort of place Miles was looking for and never once did he bother to ask what was the catch. Everything would simply be provided and nothing would be expected of him. He'd have caring friends who helped each other and felt proud of their mutations and their deeds. He had wanted to be a doctor to help people and now in Sanctuary, he'd learn to use the very same mutation he hated for good (if there was any good to be had from ressurrecting people into monsters). All she asked in return was his name.
"I'm Miles" he said, his brain already settled on the sweet nectar of her undetectable scent and glad she was asking him the question. "My family calls me 'Inches' because of my size and my name. It's a pun. You can call me Inches if you want. I'm really, really interested in visiting this 'Sanctuary' you mentioned..."
He couldn't help thinking of her as some kind of BFF, friends 4evah, I-scratch-your-back-and you-scratch-mine sort of person. He could tell her anything and she would never judge him or scold him. Just as her pheromones had destroyed his sense of caution, it had also annihilated his inhibitions, politeness and sense of tact.
"You look hot, by the way" he said, as if he were talking to someone he'd known since forever. "That shirt looks awesome on you, it really makes your figure stand out" he added as he kept looking at her from head to toe. "But not your pants. Your pants look awful."
The people around them were wise to keep their distance. Some had even stopped walking and stood several feet away from the couple, muttering with each other, while others took a risk and squeezed through the sides of the sidewalk, moving on with their lives. To their eyes, they were simply a young woman and a teenager talking, with a pair of dangerously looking dogs by the boy's side. None of them could see the invisible cloud of chemicals floating out of the woman's body, making it's way to the nostrils of the boy as she said her words to him. Everyone was oblivious to what was going on...
... everyone except the dogs.
To a human, the world is composed mostly of light and color, with sounds and smells all around supporting the influx of information into the brain, but to a dog, the world is made of black and white and it is scents and sounds what really makes the core of their perception. Where a man only saw a woman talking to a boy, to the dogs it was as if the woman's body had just gone up in smoke.
It was a strange scent, neither pleasing nor disturbing to them and it's composition was the right mix of particles designed to trigger specific brain functions on an entirely different species. Not even Miles knew what sort of brain rewiring his thralls had gone through upon rebirth so neither the scent nor her words had any particular meaning or effect on them, but it's appearance had been sudden and unexpected, so the dog's protective instincts kicked in.
Tinaker growled and bared his teeth as soon as the woman was done talking. He kept his head low and stepped forward as the black fur on his back raised. Astor immediately followed suit, pushing himself between the woman and the boy, his head raised high in defiance. His eyes glowed a fierce crimson red, burning deeply into emerald ones as his maw opened and let loose a loud bark. It was deep, guttural and chilling to the bone, the kind one would expect from a far larger beast. His tongue and the inside of his mouth were as black as he was and spittle flew off his snout. He took another step towards the woman as he was about to...
"Calm down."
The teenager's voice was flat and neutral, but it was as if he had flicked the "off" switch on the dog's aggression. Their mouths closed shut, hiding their teeth. They both backtracked their steps to their previous positions by the sides of the young mutant, the red glow on their eyes grew dimmer as they stared straight ahead, no longer giving a care in the world to the scent, the woman or the crowd.
Miles stare was glazed over and distant, even though he was looking straight at her. His initial excitement all but vanished and a much calmer lad stood in his place. He gave no apologies, no excuses or pretenses about his dog's behavior as his mind seemed to be studying her previous words.
The woman had called on his lie and Miles quickly started patching the holes of his tale in his head. He was about to tell her he'd lost his cellphone and the address was in it and he hadn't called his relatives yet because... gremlins had destroyed all the payphones, when all of a sudden she mentioned the "M" word.
This was too close. He'd been too obvious and she was on to him. Even worse, she was implying HE was doing weird things as if HE was some kind of mutant, so his natural reaction was to, once again, evade and lie through his teeth. It was difficult to look straight at her face and tell her he was completely normal, even if he looked the part, when a dog with eyes and muscles like the terminator was standing next to him and he had even brought a spare.
He had just opened his mouth to reply with some nonsense and denials when she commented on why someone with extraordinary talents would want to have them fixed. She implied that mutations were something to be proud of instead of afraid. His mind couldn't believe what his ears were hearing. This woman had no clue.
He should have just circled around her and moved on. Let her think whatever she wanted, leave her behind and never see her again, but sometimes Miles had a tendency to stand for his opinions and consequences be damned. If there was something he had learnt in the last few days was that mutation was nothing to be proud of.
"You've no idea what you're talking about" he said, almost in disbelief that she actually meant what he had heard. "Extraordinary talents? Picasso had extraordinary talent. Da Vinci or Beethoven or any other genius had extraordinary talent and they used those talents to do great things, but mutations? There's no talent in it. It just... ruins people's lives and makes them miserable. Would you be proud if you had tentacles instead of arms? If you could kill people with a single stare or... bring them back a hollow shadow of what they were with a touch of your hand?"
At that precise moment, deep in the back of his head, he realized he probably had said something he shouldn't have, but he was too riled up to give a damn. He was starting to raise his voice.
"When a mutation can ruin your life or the lives of others you love, how can you not be afraid? How can you not want to get it fixed and get your life back? And even if your mutation was harmless, people will stop seeing you the same way. You're outside of their circle of trust. You're someone else. You're someTHING else. It'll never be the same unless you get rid of it!"
The woman didn't move. In fact, she smirked and asked him a question that practically froze him. How could she know!? How could she possibly...?
Miles took a deep breath as he quickly realized he was overreacting. She couldn't know. She just wanted to know how well trained the dogs were. She was probably the adventurous, daring sort, the kind that showed no fear on the outside but deep down still wanted to make sure the beasts wouldn't do her any harm and why wouldn't she? They were unleashed and even if he had a chain tied to Astor's neck, the big dog could probably fly him like a kite at the slightest sprint.
He didn't like the idea of answering questions to strangers though, specially about the dogs, so he resorted to the very first solution that popped into his head: Blatant lying. Evade, evade, EVADE!
"Neither. Both. Who knows? They're dogs" he answered, hoping the amount of uncertainty would make her reconsider her position. The dogs had never bitten anyone out of anger in their past life or in their new one just yet, though he was absolutely positive that right now they would dance the tango if he so commanded it. Biting someone was just a word away, though it was one he wouldn't give lightly.
She then asked him something that perked up his eyebrows and gave him the lovely opportunity of deviating the conversation away from the dogs. He jumped at the chance, hoping for proper answers.
"As a matter of fact, I am lost" he admitted, patting Astor on his unflinching head, pretending his thrall had some degree of normalcy. "I'm... visiting relatives, but right now I need to get in contact with them. They're expecting me and everything" he lied, just to give the pretense there were people who actually cared for him. "So, you wouldn't know if there's a library or a net cafe nearby? Somewhere I could check a map and maybe find places?" he asked, but as soon as he had, he realized that maybe he could cut down to the chase and get straight to where he wanted.
"I don't want to be lost here for long, you know? I'm told New York is a very odd place with... strange people who can do weird things and maybe... fix them up as well?"
Oh my gosh, Astor, I LOVE your character. (This is Gina, I'm on my alternate account.) As I stated in the cbox, our characters would (and should) make fantastic friends, but beyond that, he seems like a very well thought-out concept, and should be a lot of fun to see on the boards. I hope you stick around, because he seems like a marvelous edition. (And I hope to nab a few threads from you with Gina, just because. Sorry if I seem pushy. ^_^ Like I said in the cbox, your app gave me a wealth of muse, so I'm kind-of overzealous now.)
No worries, and I'm actually looking forward to it. Right now Miles is in an open thread with a lovely lady by the name of Syn and after reading her profile, I think he's way, waaaay over his head.
I do plan to get him to the mansion eventually but thought he should get a taste of New York first.
The woman stood out from the rest of the people on the street not only because of her looks, but because of her attitude. Unlike everyone else who quickly made haste to get out of his way, she seemed to be standing her ground, almost like waiting for him.
She was hot. Not pretty a la Anne Hathaway with an "I'm cute with a heart of gold!" vibe, but hot a la Milla Jovovich in "Resident Evil", ready to kick your ass. Her top left little to the imagination regarding her shape, tight as it was, but her loose pants and boots were probably a crime to beautiful legs everywhere. The black skull, splattered over her chest and her red streaks of hair spoke volumes about what kind of person she was. He wouldn't be the least bit surprised if she were into hardcore music or hardcore something else. She did not seem the least bit like people who wanted to blend in but instead, reveled in standing out.
Miles get-up spoke volumes of himself as well. He hadn't changed his faded green t-shirt or blue jeans since yesterday and in fact, he had slept wearing them. His brown hair looked like it was waging war against itself and it had already used nuclear warfare. While he wasn't exactly stinky or overly dirty, a shower and a change of clothes were already due. It was abundantly clear he wasn't from around here, not only because you could tell his backpack was full of clothes but because he had the typical expression of someone who was lost and looking to find his way again.
The teenager reached the young woman and she just waited there. He came to an abrupt stop and his dogs did so as well in synchronized unison but instead of going around her, he opted for a fake warning.
"Careful, lady" he said, putting a hand on each of his dog's backs as if trying to keep them calm. "They may bite."
Welcome to MRO! I want to test his Spanish in the future, Celes would find that mix of cultures very interesting.
Cuando usted quiera, señorita. Spanish happens to be my native language while english is my second and one of the reasons I like to RP. It simply forces me to think creatively, practice my english and make my prose writing decent. I also end up looking up at dictionaries and theasaurus(es?) to check I've used the right words, so I really end up expanding my vocabulary a lot.
Maneuvering through the streets of New York last night had been easy for Miles and his dogs, who took advantage of the shadows and low density population to walk around undisturbed, but it was a totally different experience to do so by day. The streets were packed with commuters and frowned faces, cars and cabs speeding or honking and exchanging insults, smells good and bad were all around him; there were salesmen, doormen, suits and all sorts of people standing around or moving to and fro, with eyes looking at every inch of the street... how was he supposed to do this? How could he possibly expect to go about unnoticed, with two dogs who looked mean enough to eat a xenomorph for breakfast?
He was afraid of calling too much attention to himself. He'd run away from his father and struck out on his own, but by now his old man must have called the cops, probably telling them he was a mutant loose on the city and the dogs weren't friendly. Then, there was the video doing the rounds on the web where he touched a perfectly dead dog and brought it back to... whatever it was he turned the dead into, which meant some people at least might have gotten a good look at his face. Walking about in the open seemed like a terrible idea, but waiting around until dark seemed unbearable. He was hungry to boot, tired from a restless sleep (his first outside a proper bed) and considering petty thievery to feed himself.
He'd given some thought to leaving the dogs behind for a while, fending for himself during the day, then coming back for them at night but he didn't feel comfortable with that idea because he'd be defenseless. What if someone did try something against him? What if someone found the dogs while he was away? What if? What if? What if?
In the end, he decided against it and chose something he knew in his gut was bound to get him in trouble eventually, but still made him feel safest. He would not go out defenseless. Let everyone else feel defenseless instead. He would walk out with both dogs, one on each side, and hope people were smart enough to not get in his way.
He hadn't forgotten why he had made it to New York in the first place. His father had wanted to check him in a hospital or an institution that dealt with his mutation issues, but they had no real clue what they were looking for. They were striking out blind, hoping to fill in the blanks once they had made it here. Miles had already had the time to come up with a bare bones plan of action. He'd find himself a library or a netcafe or someplace with a computer where he could get an idea of where the hell he was, where he could go and if such hospitals or institutions even existed.
Miles plunged into the street as planned and people definitely did not get in his way. Some would stop dead on their tracks and waited for him to pass, others would hide behind whomever was in front of them and then there were those who suddenly remembered they had something to do across the street. He could smell their fear through Tinaker's nose, a scent he wasn't accustomed to and was somewhat displeasing but what he could feel the most were the stares all around him. Both of his dogs were unleashed and Astor's size, all around black skin, muscular build and red, glowing eyes had a way of making people wonder "Is this real?" "What happened to those poor animals?"
He tried to keep a brisk pace, hoping not to cause too much of a conmotion and looking at the signs on both sides of the street. The faster he found what he was looking for, the less attention he'd be calling to himself, but unknown to him, a pair of watchful eyes had already caught sight of him...
Creepy power you got there. It's nice to know Miles doesn't really like creating his, as I understood it, zombies. Welcome to MRO ^_^
I kind of liked the idea of giving a non creepy dude a creepy power and then have him deal with the consequences. The dogs aren't really rotting or desperate to eat people's brains, so they're not technically zombies, but that's exactly the word people tend to use to describe them.
Character's full name: Miles Derek Haxton Alias/ Nickname/ Code name: M.D. Haxton (a pun, because he wants to be a doctor), Inches (another pun, because he's short and his name is Miles). Eventually, his codename would be Watchdog. Gender: Male Age: 15 Date of Birth: February 15th, 1997 Nationality/ Ethnicity: Caucasian. His father is from Indiana, his mother is Spanish. Birthplace/ Home/ Place of origin: Virginia Beach, U.S.A.
Appearance
Hair color and style: Dark brown, not too long, not too short, usually messy, combs and him are not friends. Eyes: Dark brown Height: 5' Build: He has an average build, with neither muscles nor bones showing through his skin. He's short for his age and white-ish but not as pasty white as his father. Visible mutation: When in "dark mode", his skin becomes coal black and his eyes glow red. They grow brighter the more agitated he is. His skin gets feverish and becomes very painful to the naked touch. In this state, his voice is rasped, creepy and usually loud because he's likely to be screaming. He looks like an average teen when not in "dark mode". Scars/ Tattoos/ Piercings: None. Other features: None. Everyday clothing style: He's a jeans, sneakers and t-shirt sort of guy, who cares very little about what he's wearing and even reuses his clothes several times before getting them washed. Prefers practical clothing (pockets, strong fabrics, useful things) than looking fashionable. Plain white, dark or neutral colors over flashy ones. He can get a scruffy, disheveled look in time if left to his own devices. Uniform: None. Sleepwear: Boxers. Long and loose. Has no shame in walking around on them since they look more like plain shorts instead of underwear. They're usually plain and dark but a few have cartoon characters printed on them.
Character
Personality: Miles is affable, willing to talk to anyone, with high tolerance levels to people's personalities, attitudes and beliefs, yet he's not very open, will always go for the jokes and the small talk rather than discuss the things that worry him or his own personal problems. He's fond of talking about said problems to his dogs, who can't judge him, but doing so helps him get things off his chest. He's very responsible, smart and practical. He's also messy and evasive, but can be strongheaded when it comes to defending his beliefs, an opinion or a decision he strongly believes in.
He suffers a personality shift when in "dark mode", which makes him act harshly, thoughtlessly and selfishly. He's not easy to reason with in this state and he will feel a very strong, almost irresistible temptation to use his mutant talent on the recently deceased. It may seem like he's an entirely different person when in "dark mode", but once he turns back to normal, he remembers everything he said or did the entire time, regardless of how much he'd like to forget it. He usually regrets his actions afterwards and feels very ashamed of them.
Hobbies/ Interests: Miles loves petting animals and turns into a playful idiot at the mere sight of a furry friend. Likes puzzles, games and videogames that force him to think and solve problems, like chess or strategy games. He's interested in becoming a doctor and very, very interested in getting rid of his mutant talent somehow.
Job or part time job and description: Student.
Fears/ phobias/ concerns: He thoroughly dreads turning a human being, specially a friend or a loved one, into one of his thralls. He is terrified of getting stuck somehow in his "dark mode".
Special talents: He's quick of feet despite his size and has a tactical, problem solving mind. Was taught how to drive a pick up truck at age 13 during a summer with his grandfather at his farm, has some understanding of how the human body works, knows basic CPR and is fluent in spanish.
Morality
When not in "dark mode" he's a good, responsible and caring soul. When in "dark mode", his anguish can push him to do selfish or amoral acts, which he'll usually rationalize as being good and regret them later.
Mutations
Mutation description: Dark mode
This is a physical and mental state that Miles can inadvertently turn into, triggered the moment he is emotionally distraught with anguish or sorrow, the kind one feels after losing a friend, relative or loved one. He usually has to be pushed to tears or shocked in horror in order for the transformation to take place. Once it starts, he can't stop it.
Once in dark mode, his looks and mental state change (as described in "visible mutation", "personality" and "morality") and Miles will feel irresistibly tempted to touch the recently deceased, if there are any nearby. He will usually rationalize or deceive others into thinking he's doing it to help, but in truth, his mutation compels him to reach out and touch the dead.
His body does not gain any extra strength or resilience while in dark mode, but he seems to feel very little pain in this state and making skin contact with him will cause great pain to the living. If a transformation is imminent, the best course of action is to restrain him somehow, specially if there are dead bodies of any kind nearby. Mutants with thick or armored skin can usually resist his pain-inducing touch much better than non-resilient mutants and they can hold him back accordingly. Armor can do the trick of keeping the pain away, but cloth is usually not thick enough.
If Miles touches a recently deceased creature, he will hold it for a while and the cadaver will endure a transformation. It's skin will turn coal black, any wounds or broken bones will heal or repair themselves, its eyes will open and glow bright red, its body will grow 1/4 larger than their original size and its muscles will also grow, making it look ripped and muscular. The creature will no longer display any need for eating, drinking, sleeping or mating and from a certain perspective, it will seem like Miles has brought it back to "life".
There are drawbacks to being brought back in this state, though. A mental link is created between Miles and the new creature, to the point he can give it mental orders, sense their location, see through their eyes, hear through their ears and smell through their noses. He can't tell what the creature is thinking or feeling but the creature will understand and obey any orders it's given. Miles will usually say them aloud, but there is no need, since the command is given through the mental link. The creature will try to fulfill its orders in its own way (Miles does not "remote control" its every action). The creature's personality is usually changed and they rarely exhibit behavior reminiscent of its past life. They become thralls for Miles to command.
"Dark mode" fades off and Miles turns back to normal once he has calmed down. If a "dark mode" episode was produced by the death of someone, it will bring him a great deal of mental peace to turn the deceased into a thrall and his dark mode will recede after that's done. He will regret it as soon as he turns back to normal though, and turning a friend or loved one, in fact, turning ANY PERSON into a thrall, is one of Miles greatest fears in life.
Currently, Miles owns two thralls. A large, boxer dog named "Astor" and a medium sized stray dog named "Tinaker". Astor may be bigger and stronger than Tinaker, but the smaller dog runs faster and has much better senses of hearing and smell than Astor. Both dogs sometimes show dog like qualities and Miles strongly believes there's still some part of the original dogs somewhere in there. While they're not cute and no longer wag their tails or plead for belly rubs, Astor remains fiercely loyal and completely obedient to Miles commands, while Tinaker tends to prowl but will always come back if commanded.
These two dogs are Miles' "offensive powers". Astor is the attack dog while Tinaker can scout, provide support, track opponents down or spy for Miles if needed.
Miles limits regarding how many thralls he can create are not known to him and he has no interest whatsoever in ever finding out. He despises his "dark persona", believes he has no limit and can potentially field an army, but in truth he wouldn't be able to create or command more than five. The physical effort of creating thralls would be too taxing for his mutation and his mind would be seriously handicapped trying to decipher the information he'd get from the eyes, ears and noses of several thralls at the same time
Strengths: Miles strength comes from his two overobedient dogs, which allow him to attack two opponents at once or attack one from two different angles, while still keeping a safe distance himself. Their enhanced senses can also provide him with information regarding his surroundings and his tactical mind and mental link helps him work in coordinated unison with his thralls.
Weaknesses: Miles dark mode could potentially be triggered in the field of battle, leading to unpredictable circumstances. His greatest weakness, though, is himself. While the dogs can fight and hold their own, he's still just a regular teenager giving them mental commands and can be taken out with a well placed punch to the jaw... if the puncher manages to get past the dogs. The dogs have no answer for aerial attacks or for those coming from high ground. An unconcious Miles will usually cause the dogs to regroup to his side and stay there, protecting him. The dogs do not have opposable thumbs and have serious trouble doing simple things like turning a doorknob or climbing up a tree. While a large, muscular dog can be dangerous, Miles has no intention of ever killing anyone, for fear of turning them into thralls.
Fighting Style
Explanation: Miles has the fighting skill of an average 15 year old teenager. Pros for fighting style: None. Cons for fighting style: All the cons the fighting style of an average 15 year old teenager could possibly have.
Faction Allegiance Unaffiliated
History Of Your Character:
Miles lived the typical boring life of someone his age located in Virginia Beach. His mother is a spanish descendant and his father is from Indiana. He's the elder brother of a 12 year old sister and his mutant talent kicked in very recently, probably because he hadn't been in any kind of emotional turmoil until his older dog, Astor, got very sick and all indications pointed to the dog not making it through the week.
The boy loved his pet and on Astor's final days, he skipped school to look after him. Eventually, the inevitable happened as Miles waited for his father to come home. He was alone at the time and had Astor's head on his lap, listening to his loyal friend's hard breathing as he struggled to stay alive. Tinaker was there, keeping both company with a somber attitude instead of his usually cheerful and manic behavior, as if understanding what was going on. Tears were running through Miles face and during the dog's last breath, Miles could not hold his composure any longer. Astor had been at his side since he was a little child and to see him go like this hurt him deeply.
Then it happened.
Miles has described his "dark mode" on occasion as "feeling like a drug addict suffering from withdrawal and death is made out of cocaine". Hugging his pet, he screamed as his arms turned charcoal black, his body temperature rose and an irresistible urge to keep the animal close grew. He was digging his dark fingers on his pet’s dead skin as an inexplicable... something... flooded out of his body and into the dog. It was like the darkness from his skin spread to the dog's, turning it black as well. The dog spasmed, as Miles dark touch rescued him from the clutches of death. Its body and muscles grew larger and after a violent shakedown it opened its eyes, glowing bright red and making him look like a hound from hell.
A sense of peace and accomplishment invaded Miles after the deed was done. The blackness of his skin faded and as he regained his senses, he stared in horror at what he had created. It did not act like Astor at all. There was no licking, no tail wagging, no nothing. The dog just stared at him, stiff and ominous. Explaining what had happened to the rest of the Haxton’s was difficult. He lied and tried to keep his involvement to a minimum. His mother locked the beast in the walled backyard, screaming for a priest. His father, a more practical man, was dumbfounded and suggested calling a vet instead. The first that came simply told them “That’s not a dog” and quickly left the premises.
A week later, the Haxton’s household was against him. Miles was adamant about NOT getting rid of the dog he felt responsible for, his mother was terrified of it and his father suspected Miles was hiding something. He was under a lot of pressure and as much as he tried to keep it a secret, it didn’t last long. They had been keeping Tinaker outside with Astor as well and the younger dog had been so afraid of Astor it managed to bolt outside into the street at a moment’s distraction.
It was hit by a car. His father went outside to see what happened, the driver came out of his car, his sister was crying for Tinaker, there were neighbors nearby… and they all saw him turn black as night and bring the dog back to life.
They gasped. They called him names. Mutie. Freak. Someone even recorded it on a cellphone and it was up on the web that very night. There were arguments between his parents and his mother ended up leaving the house with his sister in tow, staying at his grandmother’s. Mr. Haxton stopped looking at him the same way and it was hard to tell what he was feeling. Sadness? Regret? Contempt? The neighbors outside were freaking out about “those demon dogs” and were close to starting a riot. His grandfather came down to lend them a hand and they left the house that very night.
Grandpa Haxton had brought a windowless van where they could carry the dogs out but he also had brought a shotgun with him and knew a secluded place where they could get rid of the crux of the problem. Miles refused to let them kill his dogs since it wasn't their fault they were this way, it was his. They were his responsibility and he felt a connection with them he didn't feel with anyone else, so in the end, it was decided they would head up to New York. They had hospitals and institutions that could probably deal with the problem and maybe even fix it altogether.
The trip was miserable. His elders were freaking out about having to travel with the dogs in the van as Miles slowly realized how to use his mental link with them. It was creepy and very worrisome for them, with constant arguments ensuing throughout the journey. Halfway through it, his father got a call from his boss who inexplicably fired him, but Miles supected word had gotten out since the video of Tinaker's turning was making the rounds.
More fights ensued among the Haxtons. When they reached New York, Mr. Haxton vented on him, blaming him for ruining his life and all he had worked for so hard in less than a month.
Stopping at night at a gas station, Miles grandfather took off to buy some supplies, while his father went to the bathroom. The boy took the small window of opportunity to grab his backpack, open the van's doors and take his thralls with him, leaving the elder Haxtons behind. He didn't want to cause them any more trouble than he already had and hospitals or scientists wouldn't come cheap.
Miles disappeared into the dark streets of New York and has been reported as "missing" by his father.
Roleplay
Where did you learn about this site?: I just Googled "Mutant RPG" and you guys are on the top. I was looking for an RP with decent activity. Do you have any other characters on MRO, if so who: No.
Sample RP:
"Ok, here's where we stand. This you see here?" he said as he stretched his palm, holding his cellphone towards them. He waved his other hand's fingers at it, to help them focus their red eyes on the device.
"This here is Miles Derek Haxton"
He had made up his mind for sure. Maybe it was the wrong decision, but he had made it anyway. The cellphone had all the numbers of his friends and family and he barely remembered any of those off the top of his head. His life, his whole identity, lay on the gadget's memory chip. Without it, he was just a random teenager with no ties or connections to his past whatsoever .
The phone started to vibrate.
"What, can't he get a hint?" he fumed. "Seven missed calls isn't enough?" His father had been trying to get a hold of him, probably to berate him for taking off. He'd been doing nothing but that the entire trip. He had tried to help, that's for sure, but it had all blown up on his face and he was now blaming Miles for his misfortunes. After the last argument they had, the boy had made up his mind to leave his two elders alone and spare them the trouble. They had a point and they had made it quite clear.
Lose the beasts. Be normal again.
It wasn't as simple as it sounded. They weren't ordinary animals anymore. They were bigger, stronger and every single order he gave them, they obeyed. He could see through their eyes, smell what they smelled and hear what they heard and even then, losing them now wouldn't fix anything. He could make more. He didn't know how many more or how often, but as long as he had no control over his dark persona, the possibility would always be there. Always. Because he was a mutant.
That's what they had called him, back when he turned Tinaker. Mutie. Freak. He'd looked it up. He'd heard or read about it before but never paid too much attention to the whole issue and now that he had, he was damn sure it was not a disease or a condition you could cure with a cream or a magic pill. It was on his genes, on the very fiber of his being. Somewhere down the Haxton line there must have been a vampire zombie or something and now he had his gene in him. Doctors could look at him, probe him, register him, stick tubes up his arse and in the end, they wouldn't do a damn thing. It was like asking a doctor to make a black man white or maybe turn a man into a woman. Oh wait, they could do that nowadays.
The phone started to vibrate again. Miles leaned back, stretched his arm and threw the damn thing as far away as he could. The darkness of the street swallowed it up and he didn't even hear it break into pieces. His dogs were staring at him with their glowing eyes, unfazed and unmoving, like black marble statues.
Miles sat down on the sidewalk with both of his hands covering his face. A single lamp post illuminated the trio as the night started to get a bit chilly.
"What am I going to do, guys?" he asked them, not really expecting an answer. "I've nowhere to go and I don't know anyone. I'm in a strange street in a strange city. I don't know what the future holds for me and even if I don't have a clue what to do, I'd rather be here than back in the van!"
Not even a lick for comfort. All he got for an answer was silence. Miles sighed.
"All right" he said, trying to think things through. "What's the worst that could happen to me right now? I'm not worried about getting stabbed or raped because you've got my back. So what's the second worst thing that could happen to me? Hunger. Cold. I can try to find a job tomorrow and if I nab anything, that solves the hunger issue. That leaves only the cold..." he reasoned, rubbing both of his hands together. He looked at the smallest member of the team.
"Tinaker, you take the road and find me shelter. A homeless shelter, the subway, I don't care. Find me a place I can spend the night. Keep your eyes and nose peeled for any food sources. Astor, you stay your ass right here and keep watching my back."
The smaller dog bolted and lost himself in the darkness almost immediately. Astor and the boy remained where they were.
New York was dark, cold and unfriendly, but as long as he had his thralls, he had nothing to fear. They would work for him, fight for him and die for him. He'd find answers on his own, no matter what it took and above all... he would survive.