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.
Posted by Calcifer on Jan 19, 2016 22:06:56 GMT -6
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
The wolf thief was stumbling, and under his anger Isaac felt small tremors of sadistic satisfaction. Served him right. And once Isaac caught him… well, he’d add some more scrapes of his own. Kind words and charity had never served Isaac very well; violence was the best way to make people respect you -or at least leave you alone- and this punk needed to be taught a lesson.
His prey disappeared around a corner. Isaac forced himself forward with greater speed. He couldn’t let himself lose sight of the thief for very long. He veered into the alley, slammed into the wall, and pushed off in the direction he’d seen the wolf run. Isaac’s gaze swept the alley hungrily. If he’d lost the thief, something was going to be destroyed.
But the kid was there, a kid again and lying on the pavement. His emaciated form was curled around Isaac’s bag of food and a wound on his shoulder dripped blood. Isaac slowed from his run and stormed toward the boy, slamming his boots onto the pavement. He pulled down his mask as the heat returned to his face, letting the flicker of his anger light the shadows. Fear. Fear was powerful and Isaac intended to use it.
Posted by Calcifer on Jan 18, 2016 17:05:15 GMT -6
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
Isaac cursed, his words forming a pale mist in the winter air. He’d had him. He’d been just a few yards behind the punk and he’d had him. And then the kid was a wolf, because of course he was. Everyone in this city was some kind of freak. Every. Damn. Person.
And the thief-wolf was fast. Much faster than it had been. It quickly destroyed the gains Isaac had made as it shot off down the street.
“No!” Isaac’s shout was aimed less at the animal and more at pushing his own body faster. He cooled, forcing all of his energy into his sprint. He concentrated all of his focus onto the figure of wolf, colliding with pedestrians and shoving them aside as he ran. He would not lose this chase.
He couldn’t match the wolf’s speed, Isaac knew that, but he wasn’t winded yet, and the wolf would have to stop eventually. As long as he could see it, it hadn’t gotten away. Not yet.
Posted by Calcifer on Jan 17, 2016 21:04:36 GMT -6
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
There was a sudden, sharp tug on the bag that pulled Isaac’s glove halfway off his hand before the weight of the food disappeared entirely. Isaac drew a sharp breath at the frigid air on his exposed skin and looked down at his hand.
His food was gone.
There was a moment of brief confusion. The bag was not in his hand. The bag was not on the ground. There was an air of confused tension in the people around him. There was a teenager in ratty clothes sprinting away from him.
Isaac’s nostrils flared as realization dawned. That. Punk.
Anger leapt into flame behind his eyes. Fierce anger. Anger that knew it was strong. “Hey!” Isaac barked at the fleeing figure as he shot into a sprint after it. Cold joints and muscles protested at the sudden exertion. Isaac shouted them down; he would not lose this chase. Without breaking stride, he forced his glove back down onto his hand and increased his temperature a hundred degrees or so to purge his legs of fatigue.
It wasn’t long before he had matched the thief’s speed. Soon, he was gaining.
Think you can steal from me, you little s***? the thoughts blazed in his mind. I’ll make you regret it! And after I’m done you’ll be lucky if you still have teeth!
Posted by Calcifer on Jan 17, 2016 19:27:28 GMT -6
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
Meat. It was the only good thing about this miserable city.
Isaac was a carnivore. Steaks, ribs, burgers, bacon, fried chicken, roast beef; never in his life had he met someone who could match his appetite, and using his power only served to make him even more voracious. But having a body that would char food in his mouth meant that anything pre-cooked was dry and tasteless. Meat had to be eaten raw to be enjoyed, and raw meat didn’t exactly keep in the Nevada desert. Sure, he would occasionally be able to bring some back to the trailer that was his home, just not consistently.
But here… here there were butcher shops. Here there was raw meat available in piles of every conceivable cut just a short walk away in the excruciating cold.
Which is why today saw Isaac’s cloaked form hurrying down the sidewalk carrying a bag filled with red meat. Ten pounds of steak, a giant slab of bacon, and a tub of butter, to be precise.
And a pineapple. For variety.
Isaac did not plan for any of it to last until the next day. He was hungry.
(OOC: For those who wish to read the fanfic pairing version of these events, go to A Ship Aflame.)
Isaac’s face blazed with rage. There were several things that could trip his temper, and invading his personal space was at the top. He hated the world and the world hated him and it would keep its damn distance if it knew what was good for it. All that hobo had to do was edge a little too close to earn his burns. NO ONE got touchy with Isaac.
And now this creep was rubbing up against him like a gargoyle in heat. God, the sicko was even purring.
“GET THE **** OFF ME!” Isaac shouted, pushing himself to his feet. He punched the man –at least, he assumed it was a man- in the stomach, then once again in the jaw once he got his footing. The punches didn’t feel like they had much impact, but his fists were roaring with heat in his anger. Isaac hoped that they hurt.
Isaac cooled and slipped on his boots before quickly glancing around for the rest of his clothes. He was done with this. With the cold, with the flea-ridden bums, with the hideous lizard-man and its repulsive affection. It could all burn.
Isaac cast another disgusted look at the creature.
“Freak.”
He aimed a kick at what he figured was the soft spot beneath its ribs.
Posted by Calcifer on Jan 1, 2016 23:12:09 GMT -6
Tempest likes this
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
(OOC: The following is a non-canon version of the events started in Of Fire and Dragons. Enjoy responsibly )
The first thing Isaac noticed was an abrupt stop to the wind accompanied by the shadow of a large figure at the entrance to the alley. As the figure drew near the silhouette became more detailed, revealing a massively tall frame with extra arms, a tail, and several spikes protruding from its head. The homeless crowd instantly scurried out of its way. It stooped down and leveled its head with Isaac’s, and by his own glow Isaac could see a hideous face with a single black eye meeting his gaze.
Welcome to New York, city of freaks. Isaac guessed that the giant was trying to intimidate him, but after going hand-to-hand with a robot, meeting a blacksmith with bright pink hair, and seeing an alien shoot tongues out of its hands, Isaac wasn’t even phased anymore. He glared back and tensed his limbs, readying for a fight.
The beast’s head shot forward. Isaac brought his hands up in defense be was too slow. The massive head met with his chest and… nuzzled him? The shock from the creature gently prodding and rubbing up against him paralyzed him for a second, long enough for it to drop to its hands and slither its massive bulk around him.
When the reaction came, it was visceral, involuntary. Isaac leapt to his feet with disgusted yell and shoved the beast away, though he succeeded more in pushing himself away from it and stumbled backward a few feet.
“The hell’s wrong with you?” Isaac screamed at the thing. “Tryin’ to get touchy with me. Do you want to end up like that?” Isaac pointed at the burned hobo. “Do you want to die?? I will burn the skin from your charred bones if you ****in’ touch me again!”
The words poured in a stream of rage and hysteria. Isaac didn’t even know if the thing could understand him. It was acting like some kind of animal but wearing clothes like a person and-
Oh god, its clothes were on fire. It had pressed up against him and its clothes were burning and-
Isaac closed his eyes. He had to get away. It was the stupid thing’s own fault and it wasn’t his problem what happened to it and he had to get away.
Posted by Calcifer on Dec 31, 2015 15:46:40 GMT -6
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
Isaac was back in control. While the kid was still stumbling with his papers, Isaac had reached the end of the corridor and melted the lock on the door. Rhett probably had some way to open it, but it felt better to do things by force. With the kid’s arrival, Isaac had cooled and finished getting dressed.
>>”Ready?”
Isaac’s ribs ached, there was a pain in his leg, and his breath came in the metered cadence of an athlete mid-way through some vigorous exercise. But adrenaline was flooding his veins. There was no way he wasn’t going to make it out of this.
“North gate?” Isaac asked, assuming Rhett had planned on the most direct route. The kid was jumping with nervous energy.
Isaac pushed the door open. “Let’s do this!”
The tunnel exit opened onto a sea of anarchy. Inmates of every kind had turned the power outage into a full-scale riot, pouring out into the yard through Isaac’s tunnels as well as several of their own making. The guards had retreated to the walls and towers, from which they fired canisters of pepper spray into the crowd below. Rough-looking inmates with bloodied hands roamed the yard in gangs, picking off members of rival gangs unfortunate enough to be caught on their own. Several of the mutants who could leap, fly, or climb were swarming the southeast tower, and the first of the META Scouts were leaping from the walls into the riot below.
Across this hellscape of smoke and violence, 400 yards distant, was the north gate. Guards from towers on either side swept the area with rifle-mounted flashlights, and Isaac thought he could see lying on the ground the body of an inmate who’d tried to make a break for it.
Well, could be worse.
He grabbed Rhett by the arm and sprinted into the chaos. “Run!”
Posted by Calcifer on Dec 30, 2015 21:52:06 GMT -6
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
This was awkward.
Isaac closed his eyes and tried to forget the small cluster of homeless people standing around him. He was currently sitting cross-legged on the filthy pavement of a back alley somewhere on the outskirts of New York City, his outer layers of clothing were sitting in a pile several feet away, and he was glowing a bright red. Occasionally, a flurry of snow would blow down the alley and sizzle into steam against his radiating heat.
Stupid Cafas.
Most of Isaac’s day had been spent at Cafas’ forge toiling in a contest to see which of them was the greater smith. The forge was warm compared to the rest of the city, but not warm enough, and the contest stipulated that neither mutant could use their powers so it had been far too long since Isaac had been able to heat himself anywhere past shivering. The moment he had stepped out of the shop into the freezing night air he knew that he would not make it home unless he burned.
And so, finding a narrow alley among the buildings where he could avoid notice, Isaac shed his coat, hoodie, and boots, sat down in the snow, and started to burn. He was tired from his day at the forge and was still wearing his shirt and pants, so he didn’t rise above 500 oC, but it was enough to keep him warm.
Apparently it was enough to attract others who wanted to keep warm, too; before long Isaac had found him surrounded by a small crowd of people looking to stave off the cold. At first he was concerned -just how aggressively were the authorities looking for the heat elemental that had busted open that prison?- but it seemed like they were just grateful for the convenient, if unusual, source of heat. Most of them seemed to find this as awkward as Isaac did, though one man with a beard that would frighten a wookie got a little too touchy and was now crouched against the wall nursing his burned hands.
Posted by Calcifer on Dec 13, 2015 19:22:10 GMT -6
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
For the following hours, the world narrowed. The walls of the workshop closed to contain the entire Universe as Isaac steadily drew out the steel on the anvil. There was a dim awareness of the hall outside the forge whenever he stopped to get a drink, but beyond that nothing else existed. Even the other man in the room was just a shade.
It had taken Isaac a while to get used to working with gloves and waiting for the forge to heat the metal instead of doing it himself, but now he had fallen into a steady rhythm. The hammer fell, the minutes passed, and the steel reluctantly took shape.
In the peripheries of his mind, Isaac was aware of the power hammer and the fact that Cafas was using it, but he paid this no real attention. He had chosen to make a sword specifically because it would take a long time; why would he want to make that time sorter? This of course meant that Cafas had managed to draw out a blank of welded billets while Isaac was still working on drawing out his single piece. But it didn’t matter; the power hammer didn’t fit in his rhythm. The hammer fell, the hours passed, and the pile of steaks grew steadily shorter.
As Isaac lifted the final slab of meat from the blackened paper he paused. He had brought enough steak to last him through dinner, with extra to spare. How late was it? Now that he thought about it, he was actually starting to feel fatigued from all his time at the anvil. There were no windows in the forge, but it had to be dark out.
Dark and cold. Isaac shuddered at the thought of leaving the heat of the forge for the frigid night air. He motioned to get Cafas’ attention.
“Hey! Just how long is this place going to be running tonight?”
Things were moving now. Fast. Isaac had assumed that, like everything else, cutting the power would fall to him. It wasn’t until he turned around to make sure the kid was ready to run that he saw him entering commands into some kind of console with a cowed guard against the wall.
Gimmie fifteen seconds. The reply carried overtones of a parent’s “Yes, dear, I’m watching” that made Isaac cringe involuntarily. He was no child.
Then the lights went out. Then the boy started running. And now Isaac was running after him, an outstretched arm tapping the walls from time to time to verify their position in the dim half-light of his own glow.
Isaac’s eyes scanned the corridor wildly. This was wrong. He should be the one in charge of the situation. He should leading the way out. He should be disposing of obstacles bringing things under control. But there was nothing to destroy or control, just a frightened boy to follow. Isaac’s body chased Rhett as his mind struggled to catch up. He needed something to use as an anchor. He needed something to fight. He needed something.
>>”Can you wear this stuff yet? Hide your light?”
The words echoed down Isaac’s mind. The thought of getting his clothes back sparked with the idea of getting himself out on his own and brought him back to the moment. He looked at the kid, who was trying to shed his gloves and his emotions focused into familiar disdain.
“Boxers first, kid! Don’t you ever dress yourself?” That and the boxers, by necessity, were the most resilient of his clothes. They could handle a decent amount of heat. With the lights out, burning was the only way he could see in these corridors. He couldn’t go dark just yet.
Posted by Calcifer on Nov 20, 2015 22:21:19 GMT -6
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
Isaac pulled on his clothes and walked out of the workshop, casting an indifferent glance at the woman in the drafting room as he walked past. As he entered the main shop an involuntary shiver shook his body. Even under all his layers the room-temperature air was frigid compared to the warmth of the forge.
Isaac pulled his coat tighter, unbolted the front door, and walked outside. If the air in the store was frigid, the air outside was downright antarctic, warmed only by the thin rays of the afternoon sun. Isaac looked up at it. In the desert, the Sun actually meant something; here it was just a dim light that did little against the cold. Isaac couldn’t wait to leave this miserable city.
Powered his hunger, he stormed down the street. The butcher shop was found easily enough. The man behind the counter eyed Isaac’s cloaked form with suspicion as it entered.
“And just what are you looking for, huh?”
-------
Seven pounds of flank steak hit the table as Isaac entered the forge. Stripping away the clothing from his upper body, Isaac grabbed the paper-wrapped meat and walked over to his work area next to the furnace. As he passed Cafas, he noticed that the man was attempting a piece using folded metal. Crap, he thought, if he gets that to work it’ll be a lot more impressive than a plain blade. Isaac briefly contemplated trying a similar technique, but decided that it would be better not to risk fancier methods he was less familiar with. Better to just stick with a simple -but quality- design.
Moving aside rack of tongs, Isaac entered the center of a small ring of tables and tools he had positioned as he’d worked. He dropped the package of meat on a the table, tore open the now-burnt paper, and pulled out one of the steaks. Even though he wasn’t using his mutation, the raw meat sizzled at his touch and began to char as he took a bite. As he chewed, he could feel the juices boiling out of the meat as it cooked in his mouth. It was the only way he was ever able to taste the flavor of it.
Taking another bite, Isaac looked back at the pile of steaks. It was more than he needed for now, but he’d gotten extra to eat for dinner later and perhaps another snack. He was going to be here a while, and he did not intend on going back outside anytime soon.
Posted by Calcifer on Nov 15, 2015 17:05:39 GMT -6
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
Isaac paused from his hammering and took a few deep breaths. It had been two hours since he and Cafas had chosen their pieces and started work- one hour and fifty-five minutes since Cafas had forced him to wear gloves, claiming that touching heated metal bare-handed was using his mutation. At least the pink-haired behemoth hadn’t forced him to wear an apron. Isaac also had to work as close to the forge as possible for its warmth, since heating himself would also be “cheating.”
But he was enjoying himself.
Isaac had chosen to draw the steel out using just a hammer, so the process had been long and tiring, but the steel on the anvil was finally starting to take shape. There was still no real plan for what it was supposed to be other than some kind of sword, but the finer points of construction could come later, for now Isaac was content just to work in the sweltering room.
Well, except for one thing. Setting the hammer down on the anvil, Isaac motioned to Cafas to get his attention.
“Is there a place around here to get some food?” he shouted over the extractor fans. It was mid-afternoon and his lunch had not been enough. He was starving.
“Preferably lots of red meat.” Isaac paused, hoping that a fellow mutant wouldn’t be too put-off by the next part: “Preferably raw.”
Posted by Calcifer on Nov 15, 2015 14:59:52 GMT -6
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
Cafas was talking to him, but Isaac wasn’t listening. All of his concentration was focused on the thief who was responsible for his clothes getting ripped. At this point, the only things about Cafas that registered in Isaac’s mind were that the pink-haired blacksmith was not the person he wanted to strangle and that his shirtless bulk was blocking the way to the one that he did. When Isaac did finally manage to force words out through his rage, the spit evaporated as it left his mouth.
“Do you. Have ANY idea. How much. It costs. To get clothes made. For me?!?” He held up a torn sleeve as accusingly. The trench coat actually wasn’t too bad; it was high-quality, but nothing special. Patching the basalt fiber insulation of the hoodie, however, would cost a two months’ worth of winter heating bills. And Isaac had VERY high heating bills. And he hated winter.
The glow from Isaac increased, edging its way to temperatures that were a danger to his yet undamaged clothes. He circled around Cafas so that he could look the cuffed thief in the eyes “You’re gonna pay for this, you little runt,” he said, the torn edges of his mask sizzling under the heat radiating from his face. “You’re gonna pay, or you’re gonna burn.”
Posted by Calcifer on Nov 14, 2015 22:19:27 GMT -6
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
Isaac melted the lock on the stairwell door. The kid was still wearing his clothes, stubborn prick, but it’d be best not to push the issue and raise suspicion. For now, Isaac would just have to stay close to him.
The door had to be wrenched open, bearing the resistance of some bent hinges. At least there was a getaway plan in place. Isaac thought through the geography: their entry hole was on the east side while the car was on the north side. That meant they’d either have to run around the outside of the prison or dig a new hole. Taking the direct route through the north wall would be faster, but would broadcast the direction of their escape. The east hole would be less telling, but it was probably under greater scrutiny. Then there was the distance to the overpass. From what Isaac had seen when they first arrived, it would be a long run. A cold run.
“I will need my clothes back by the time we get out of here,” he told Rhett as they hurried down the stairs. “It’s cold out, and I don’t think you want me glowing like a beacon all the way to the car.”
The base of the stairs opened into a network of rooms connected by narrow hallways. The path on Rhett’s diagrams let them to an airlock-style arrangement of metal doors with electric locks powered by a guard sitting in a viewing room behind two layers of bullet-proof glass. As Isaac melted his way through, the guard spoke into his radio. Wherever they were now, the prison knew about it. No more bots, though. Finally, the two of them arrived in a large room with three hulking generators, two of which were running. Isaac grimaced at the thought of more electric shocks, but it was one of the last things between him and getting paid.
“Alright, kid, it’s gonna get really dark after I bust these. This is probably going to be your last chance to look at your papers. Make sure you know exactly how you want to get out of here and to the car, then let’s do this.”
Posted by Calcifer on Nov 12, 2015 21:18:36 GMT -6
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
If nothing else, this guy certainly knew how to talk a good game. It had been years since Isaac had been exposed to the differences between categories and definitions of swords. All he had meant was “a sword shorter than a full broadsword.” There had been no thought to a specific type of sword; even now he had no idea what he was going to make. He just wanted to make something.
As for the question of what tools were allowed… Isaac preferred to draw the steel out rather than cut it, and he knew that he would do his hammering by hand rather than with the power hammer, but he did see the appeal of using a wheel for grinding and buffing.
“Whatever methods and tools you want,” he told Cafas. “We’re going by just the final product. Only thing off the table is mutations.” He paused and considered his lack of historical knowledge. “No limitations according to historical accuracy, either. It can be a fantasy blade as long as it’s well-made.” Isaac made sure to stick the “well-made” on the end, just in case his opponent could still be caught by the whole weight/balance thing.
Not likely, though, if he’s willing to be limited by the techniques of the time. But no harm in hoping.
Isaac walked over to stacks of metal stock, itching to get things started.
“So is any of this stuff off limits?” Then looking back to the lone anvil in the room, “And, um, are we going to take turns or something?”