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.
Devon listened carefully, quietly. It was impossible to miss the widening of his eyes as she mentioned losing Ranger and Noel to SUPER. His head came back slightly; it clearly hurt him. Even hearing there was a working relationship with SUPER didn’t ease that look on his face, but a nod bid her continue. When she took off her shoes and took a seat, so did he in a chair across from the desk like any employee coming in to report to their C-level executive.
“You’re amazing, thank you,” Devon gave a nod once she had finished. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that and I wasn’t here,” he nodded slowly. “It’s nice to hear a Senator is very clearly on the up and up and working with us. I don’t like currying favor with politicians who are doing it more for image than actual care, but that’s what we have to do sometimes. I- I’d heard about the magic.”
There was a slight frown. “I’d like to learn more about that. Maybe this Hercules fellow if the detective is more an information broker,” another nod.
“Can I- do you know why Ranger and Noel left for SUPER? I had wanted to check in on them next but I had no idea…” his frown remained. He hoped they wouldn’t be hostile toward him. Haven needed some help. Leadership was helping oneself to ensure you could help others. Devon knew he was in that spot right now, but he needed to help Svetlana and the group overall.
Devon fell easily into the practiced soft smiles and casual nods of greeting he’d perfected over the last few years, visiting various embassies or corporations internationally as they opened other Haven branches. He hadn’t even gotten a tan in Bermuda. It was nice to see his personal business succeeding there on Perot Island but now Haven had a proper spot on the main island where he’d spent the whole trip. He needed to allow himself more personal time, and to connect with people he trusted. Friends were important.
Not that he’d made them feel that way.
A slight frown came to his face as Sveta ordered the meals and Devon’s thoughts ran through him. He blinked the darker thoughts away and gave a nod about the drink. He took a finger of whiskey as well, but rather than sit he propped himself against the wall.
“The cliffnotes would be great. I’ll ask politely for more information if I need it, but let me know whatever you feel I should,” Devon gave a nod and lifted his glass to her. “And thank you.” He lifted the drink to his lips and took a slow, savoring sip. He couldn’t help but close his blue eyes and take a relaxed, long breath. It had been a while.
“Excuse me,” a just slightly shorter, but certainly thinner gentleman whispered. “I’m not judging, but people are noticing you’re staring at that uh- item.” Indeed more than a few were intent upon winning that calendar and so their eyes watched carefully for others to go by and bid on it. That was part of the fun of a silent auction, watching what and who others were watching all in their intent to win.
Now just a couple feet away, Devon eyes narrowed as he caught the look upon the older man’s face. That looked like anger, not interest or anything stronger. “...are you alright?” he asked, a concern in his still whispered words.
Somewhere across the room one of the food toppers clanged as it was dropped loudly on the floor. Devon’s head snapped to the side, blue eyes catching the older gentleman apologizing to one of the volunteers who raced to pick it up and get it replaced. At least that had taken eyes off Rex for the moment, though Devon’s quickly returned.
Devon frequented City Hall in the past, though it had been a few years since those days. He typically avoided the area around the World Trade Center - tourists and emotional impact and all - but there was a lot to do this far downtown and certainly he had the occasional need in the financial district. The Four Seasons often held fundraising and political events. The Woolworth building had its shares of events. All of New York City had a story to tell, but some of these streets had more than others.
In his return he’d sought to find the right church to begin attending again. A few conversations with a Father Lorenzo of St. Peter’s Church and Devon was inspired to make a trip, not to attend services - though he would the coming Sunday - but to a silent auction and luncheon that was being held not far from the church. It was to raise money for community activities with items donated by various local businesses as well as allow some social interaction for the congregation. Considering some of the parishioners were influential and well to do there were a few wonderful items and some high fundraising expected from the event.
Dressed in a simple pair of black trousers and a black button-down, Devon entered without fanfare. As he stood in line to check in his coat, he gazed about the space. The event hall had a large area devoted to a stage, a small dance area, and the larger row of tables for the auction items. Many already walked up and down, placing notes and marks for the items they were trying to capture. Another part of the room had circular tables for dining and the food being served banquet style. A small patio out one door gave space for children to play.
“Thank you,” Donovan accepted his coat room ticket and wandered in, spotting whom he assumed to be Father Lorenzo near the stage talking to a number of people. It was busy, a good sign for the church and community. There was also a warmth about the space with people chatting in hushed but friendly tones. Muted laughter filtered in from the children playing outside.
Maneuvering over to the numerous auction tables, the blue-eyed gentleman took a leisurely stroll to read over and look at all the items. Some were baskets of soaps and lotions. There was a one week trip to the Bahamas. A spa day at a nearby business. Two dozen cookies. A dinner for two… The list went on and on.
“It’s good to be seen,” Devon smiled weakly, but with a hope that rose the corners. “Thank you.”
He gave a nod, heading toward the door to open it for her. “I’d appreciate that catch up. I’m going to need it, especially with some of the things I’d heard but clearly been left out of the loop on. I should’ve pushed for more or-” a quick sigh, “Too late now, so time to step up. A drink sounds good, but I should probably get some food brought up too.”
Now Devon’s lips turned into a broad, apologetic smile. “They had me get rid of my phone, and even the last burner I had fell out of my coat last night… Mind calling up an early lunch for us please?” He winced. “On me of course.”
Careful footsteps carried him out of the conference room after Muse.
Devon’s brow furrowed at Sveta’s comment, but he couldn’t fault her for it. He chewed at his jaw, a guilty but acknowledging drop of his head almost bowing to the idea. His focus went sideways as her’s did and he sighed.
“Well, I stopped it if that’s what you mean,” he spoke gently. “I’d been talking to a therapist again, who helped me. Helped me get some adjustments too. I declined another foreign trip and my plane had just landed in Boston when I saw the news about the weather.” Another slow, steady breath left him as he walked toward the window, gazing out.
“I thought of you, the blizzard you helped me stopped. This one was bad, but not like that one,” he shook his head and slowly pivoted to turn back to her, the snowy landscape now framing the dark founder of Haven. “You helped me so much. I didn’t want to use you. I didn’t want to be using Haven. There’s a lot- And maybe I really was just being immature,” he shook his head. “I should’ve said something once I realized it, but I was spiralling and Haven needed things done…”
“Anyway,” Devon inclined his chin. “I heard about the storm and flew here to help. The environment, various weather systems… all have been getting worse. The things I’ve seen now worldwide… It’s not just a mutant crisis anymore. It’s all so much more. I’m so sorry I put you in this position. I heard you were helping tremendously.”
Drawing close again, Devon frowned. “I left you alone in this. I know, Inner Echelon supports one another, but still. I’m afraid I abused our friendship and I’m truly sorry.” A single nod was given, and then a small smile. “You can still punch me though. The city will be okay.”
Devon swallowed then sighed, and while there was nervousness there it was hard to miss the relief that was in that breath as if allowed to breathe again after so long…
“I-” he started, then stopped. “I was at one point taken prisoner. I was hiding for a bit. There were a few…” he paused, glancing away for a moment before looking back, “Projects I was on that had to be kept very private. The young twenties kid running away to find himself was an easy story. But no, I was- I was trying, and I-”
“It’s still no excuse. I could’ve reached out, but I was afraid,” he gave a slow nod. Her questions made it clear there was a quest to find understanding, but honestly he wasn’t sure he deserved any of it. “I’m sorry.”
Devon was still under the cold blue gaze of Sveta. Maybe many were staring but her focus was pointed; it mattered to him. He didn’t even know some of these people, though that realization only served to bother him further. As glances started to jump back and forth between him and Sveta, he started to chew his jaw.
Thankfully Svetlana spoke up though the implications of what was to come next was worrisome.
“I’ll find a time for us to reconvene,” Margaret, one of the vice presidents present, announced. “Mr. Hadden,” she gave a small nod.
“It’s good to see you Margaret,” Devon smiled weakly as the group began to filter out, Margaret last. He closed the door and took a slow, measured breath. “Svetlana, I’m sorry- I took one mission away, I grew worried that I was using you, then I allowed myself to stay away too long helping with some less public projects…” The mutant wanted to hang his head but he fought the desire to maintain eye contact.
Heads turned and eyes focused upon one Devon Hadden, long absent from any budgetary, status, strategy, or planning meeting. His black shoes were polished. Charcoal gray pants were pressed. A black button down was hidden behind a low collar heather gray cardigan, but a black tie with lines of silver peaked out at the top. His dark hair was longer than it had ever been seen, some eight or so inches but the curly waves hid that length and of course he’d styled it back with some form of pommade. But a fresh shower, fancy clothes, and good grooming products couldn’t hide everything from those who knew him well.
Tempest was tired, his cheeks slightly sunken with darker circles under his eyes nearly perfectly masked by a yellowed concealer. A few of the black locks had escaped the hold of Devon’s styling, falling over his brow and shadowing his eyes. He looked hungry, underfed and that was likely the reston for the cardigan to fill him out a bit. One hand held a bit of attention as it was on the door handle, but the other was squeezed into a tight, anxious fist. There was a clear scar along the back, now healed, but telling of a dangerous cut that would have ruptured tendons. The set of his jaw and cool focus were a practiced control of the storm that raged within Devon, but a sorrow and exhaustion sat in his azure eyes.
Heads turned and eyes focused upon one Devon Hadden, but those blue eyes of his only saw one person: Svetlana Sergeyeva.
“Good morning,” Devon spoke in a tone some might have called detached, but it was belabored by unspoken hours of a wakeful night. “Apologies for-” his eyes left Sveta and scanned the room. “Interrupting.”
The winter storm hit New York City with full force. The streets were blanketed in a thick layer of snow, and the wind howled through the towering skyscrapers. The city that never slept was suddenly hushed, as if the snowflakes were muffling all sound. People scurried to find shelter from the cold, but the snow was coming down too fast, and it was impossible to escape its icy grasp. Taxis and cars were stranded in the middle of the roads, their wheels spinning helplessly. The only sounds were the crunching of boots in the snow and the occasional honk of a car horn until even that grew quiet.
The snow continued to fall, and the wind picked up, causing the snowflakes to dance and swirl in the air. Was that a spirit taking form or just a collection of flakes swirling in an errant gust? Did that whistle signal Jack Frost’s playful flight over midtown and the financial district? Downtown the buildings that once looked so imposing were now just hazy shapes in the distance, obscured by the blizzard.
Yet in the heart of the city, the storm was not going to stop the determined few. In Central Park, a couple walked hand in hand, their faces rosy from the cold. They were laughing and joking, not caring about the snow or the cold, just happy to be together. They’d get home eventually. In a nearby café, a group of friends huddled around a table, sipping hot cocoa and playing cards, while a lone musician played his guitar, the soft notes warming their refuge.
Abruptly in the darkest of the night - the true witching hour well past midnight - those still awake saw the storm suddenly break. Whipping winds and white out conditions became gently circling flurries. A few years back, five was it, there’d been a similar storm and gradually it abated as two individuals wandered with a focus of helping the city weather the weather. LIke then it didn’t take long for the city to start to come back to life. The snowplows came out, clearing the roads and sidewalks, and the taxis and cars began to move again. The city was still blanketed in white, but it was soon again dotted with lights, shining bright in the darkness.
Something crashed down on the two feet of snow atop Haven’s penthouse patio. It groaned with exhaustion, a black robed demon sprawling out with weak chances of forming any sort of angel. His black peacoat was soaked through and torn. The dark locks of his hair were plastered to his face. Even darkness claimed the entirety of his eyes, but it like the storm soon began to fade. Brilliant blue looked upon the snow-covered patio and sealed hot tub with joyful memory.
He sat up, rolling his head and neck in a stretch as he did so. While there’d been a cleaning staff hired to maintain and dust, the fatigued creature knew there would be work to do. There was no rest for the wicked, not that he expected to sleep tonight anyway. It’d taken so long to bid the blizzard dissipate. It was so much easier with Muse’s help… Everything was.
Up to his feet he went, going for the door and fumbling in his coat for the keys. It was here somewhere… Interior pocket? No. A honk in the distance caught his attention, his head snapping to the side to look for the origin. He smirked; he had to remember he was back in the city. It was majestic, but it was also loud. He walked the few yards to the edge of the roof and gazed out.
New York was transformed into a winter wonderland, and the people who called it home were either resting peacefully now or exploring, filled with a sense of joy and appreciation for this beautiful, snowy night. The storm may have brought chaos and disruption to the city, but it also brought a sense of wonder and magic… Magic that Devon intended to learn more about.
Posted by Tempest on Oct 24, 2019 13:26:10 GMT -6
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Haven
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Feb 3, 2024 10:42:17 GMT -6
Tempest
I love MRO and I know I'm part of the problem. In part there'd be delay / less threads and it gets harder to invest and/or you want to wait for people to give them a chance. However, I also know I then get less reliable, etc. One solution here is maybe more timeline planning or just communication of expectations for timeline, posting between those in a thread? Absences and delays will always happen and there is gentle NPCing here an dthere.
I also felt the focus seemed to shift more to chat and to non-MRO hobbies, which is great for fostering community but maybe limiting for posting. Perhaps we need to expand the types of stories to not just X-Men but other parts of Marvel overall or non-Marvel to capture other shows? I'd love to see some magic, as it were.
It was hard to ignore ignorance and hatred; Devon tended not to, especially when such inevitably led to harm somewhere in the future. There was always the consideration of confrontation leading to violence and accidents too. Of course, he preferred a calm approach to disarming conflict. Luke seemed a bit more prone to the opposite, though it was hard to fault that sort of anger and aggression. The physically-changed mutants always had a harder time.
Two stepped back but one looked ready for a fight. Freedom of speech? People forgot harassment was a punishable offense. The tools of the conservative troll seemed to roll off the guy’s tongue. Luke unfortunately took the bait. Devon stood, a frown appearing on his face.
Unfortunately, the girl who was clearly only put off by Luke and his presence only grew more upset. She had moved away, she’d fretted, and said nothing. Her muttering was heard by Devon and he knew what that sound usually meant: anxiety, troubled nerves, recurrence. She shielded her eyes as Devon guessed only at PTSD and glanced worriedly between her and Luke.
Seeds fell from her hands, plants were growing, and the girl was stumbling back. This was dangerous for everyone involved, especially where uncontrolled abilities could go. Devon stepped forward swiftly to ensure he was in between the fallen plants and the three men as well as Luke. “Harassment is unwarranted and unlawful, especially in a public place,” Devon chided in a firm, loud tone. “We also need to remember those around us before anyone gets hurt. Luke, don’t give them a reason. Right now you’re in the right and they aren’t.”
Engaging wasn’t required. It’s quite possible the girl was scared, shy, or simply avoidant. All of that was fine. He gave her the time she wanted and perhaps maybe she need a little peace. Still, Devon kept his seat and turned to the lycanthropic Luke.
“I agree about what you said by the way,” he said, calling back to Luke’s words before they’d scurried over. “It is good to get out when the air warms up. People – most mammals really – learn to hibernate, eat, rest more in the darker, colder months and explore, get active, and interact more as things warm up. Sunshine is good for the soul just not too much or the skin pays,” he chuckled at his corny joke.
“How was your winter? I traveled a bit more than I expected, but work needs doing,” he nodded slowly.
Devon was fairly certainly he knew the guy approaching. He spotted the lupine fellow pretty easily, and it’s not like it was a common mutation by any means. It was a very obvious one and Devon did recall the young man from the Cali Fire Aid was from New York. A gentle smile spread across his face as he was nearing a fountain at a cross of paths and sidewalk.
And there was a girl playing in the fountain. Now that wasn’t remarkable; people often slipped a quick hand or foot into the fountain. Inevitably park police would come by and shoo kids out, but this wasn’t a kid fooling around. Devon recognized the need for fresh water and a bit of cleaning when he saw it. She was rubbing at her limbs and splashing her face, not thrashing about or grinning at water play.
>> "Oh! …It's been a while, Mr. Hadden. Enjoying the uh, weather then?"
Devon’s small smile grew with the young man’s recognition. “Ah yes, I am. Hi,” he nodded. “Luke, right?” he asked. It was hard to forget the name of a local helping, let alone one with such an obvious mutation. The blue eyed weatherman did glance at the fountain, a touch of concern clear at the narrowing of his brow. “I think it’s important for everyone to have a chance to enjoy the spring air, a bit of celebration as it were,” he chuckled a moment as his smile grew to a warmer grin that touched his eyes.
With a very casual attempt at discretion he gestured his head in the direction of the fountain. The girl’s clothes were wet now, but they clearly weren’t in a good state: torn, ripped, holes. Devon knew this all too well. He’d been there – of course by choice – but he’d also worked at Sanctuary for too long not to recognize it. Devon gave a little nod to Luke and then quickly strode over to the fountain. He daren’t call out and alarm the girl.
“Hello there miss,” Devon said once close. “My name is Devon. This is my friend Luke,” he used as slow and gentle a tone that he could, keeping that warm smile. “No need to be alarmed or leave. Enjoying the water?” he added as he sat on the edge of the fountain. A hand dipped into it as he sat.