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 Pharoah Dynasty
An ancient sorceress is on a quest to bring her long-lost warrior-king to the modern era in a bid for global domination. Can the heroes of the modern world stop her before all is lost?
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.
Crab rangoons were good, but fried. Was her heartburn good enough lately for her to handle fried? That was a good question. She had better stick with Ginger brocco--HOLY TINY KNIVES!
She started to throw it… well, more than started. Noel actually tried to fling the stabby kitten away but it was hooked into her FLESH.
And it hurt.
And twirling in a circle made her feel better and worse all at once. Better because she bumped into someone. This was a pain that should be shared.
“Wait! Wait!”
Innocent bystanders formed a fight circle and watched in a mixture of horror and glee. Some got out their phones. No doubt this was going to be YouTubed enough that even she would never forget about it. Noel put her hands on the freaky cat of death and tugged. "GETYOURFREAKINGCLAWSOUTOFME!"
Was it foaming? It was foaming. Great. now she had to get a rabies shot.
The woman was twirling. Half of him was twirling with her. The other half ricocheted dizzily off of a wall, and kept run-falling in her general direction.
>> "GETYOURFREAKINGCLAWSOUTOFME!"
"Trying, trying!" He panted, breaking through the ring of cell phone gawkers around her. He thought he'd feel better, when he stopped running. He really didn't. Could she just please stop for a second, with the spinning and the throwing? His words were a lie. He was not trying to get his freaking claws out of her. He was holding on for dear life. The pain in his head(s) was (were?) gone. The threat of going from football-hold to football-punted was still very real.
The other half of him took a wobbily step closer, stretching out his hands. "Umm, sorry. Sorry. My mistake. It's not your kitten: it's mine. I'll just be prying it off of you now. Please?"
Pretty please, with a don't-lob-me-across-the-street on top?
Noel slammed into a person as she jerked backward suddenly. They obligingly shoved her back toward the Kailey. Tugging on the kitten that was now surgically stapled to her side did not feel good, but if she let it go it might decide to climb inside of her.
"Umm, sorry. Sorry. My mistake. It's not your kitten: it's mine. I'll just be prying it off of you now. Please?"
He was all words. Why? Why was he talking? "I know it's not mine! Why did you give it to me if it was a ticking time bomb?!" She offered her side to the boy so that he could extract the knives out of her torso. Her fingers were full of skin and fur.
Now that Noel had stopped spinning and had progressed into shouting and bleeding, the gawkers started to find other things more interesting.
The kitten was removed. It made a noise as it went, like a row of buttons being unpopped. With all due shivering and hissing, it paved a climbing trail up to his/their shoulder and huddled, its blue eyes shinning around one side of their humanly neck and its tail lashing at the other.
It was not being particularly coherent, Calley’s Calley-form noted. And it was kind of giving him a headache, and doing nothing to help his hyperventilating. He (it) (they) were afraid to reabsorb it, though: the Noel lady maybe (hopefully) (please) couldn’t affect it with her powers. Or she couldn’t affect both of them. Or she hadn’t thought to affect both of them. Or hey about that hyperventilation: it’s what all the cool kids do!
>> “I know it's not mine! Why did you give it to me if it was a ticking time bomb?!"
“Why did you try to wipe my mind?” He panted, with equal crowd-dispersing volume, and an awkward voice crack. This answered her question, of course. If she hadn’t brain sponged him, she wouldn’t have been so tempting to follow. If he hadn’t kittenly followed her, he/they wouldn’t have experienced massive unpleasant not-happy-thoughts pain. No pain, no self-adhesive kittens.
Clearly, any damage done to either of them was entirely her fault.
Those weren't buttons popping. Those were bridges of skin hooked by cat. The automatic reaction was to both swat at the cat and mourn her bloodied shirt and hurt side.
Why did she wipe him?
"The hell if I know! Why aren't you wiped?" Noel was both frantically and gingerly dabbing at her bloodied shirt. Did she have a tissue or something on her person? Also, did she now have a legitimate excuse to punch someone? because the punching would feel so good.
Her hand clenched and her shirt rumpled underneath it. She had liked this shirt. And she now remembered that she hatehatehated animals. She had even more ammunition with this absolutely good reason to refresh her memory.
“I don’t know!” Calley shouted at her. Because that’s what the cool kids did. In the middle of the crowded sidewalk. “It’s your power! You tell me!”
She was picking and dabbing at her shirt. There were holes in it. The skin beneath also had holes in it; flesh-holes. They were bleeding.
“You’re bleeding!” He continued, stabbing a finger towards her. Because that, like everything else, was clearly her fault. “Stop that!” Her fault, but inflicted by his claws. Which made his stomach feel like guilt. Kat, unfortunately, had taught him about guilt. The lesson didn’t feel good, suddenly. He stepped forward impulsively, trying to catch her clenchy hand and push it less against the shirt and more against the bleeding. That’s what you were supposed to do, with the bleeding.
"But. I. Don't. Know." There was some definite molar on molar action making those four words squeeze through the gate of her teeth. Was he missing something? 'Cause she could spell it. Maybe. If she had paper in front of her.
“You’re bleeding! Stop that!” She started to fling her hands up in disbelieving frustration, but only one made it. The other one was caught and wrangled toward her newest drainage system. And pressed against those freshly installed flesh holes.
"Ow?" Maybe he was dumber than he looked. Or was slow or something. "In case you forgot, your pet ripped me some new ones." And the pushing on those news one didn't especially feel good. Just hurty. And wet. She lifted up her shirt to inspect the puffy wounds. If the swelling got bad enough, maybe it would stop the bleeding on its own. "I think you owe me a new shirt." At least. And maybe a replacement torso incase this one was ruined.
She gingerly touched the back of her hand to the semi circle lines then pools of deep of ouch. The cold fingers felt better than pressure. They'd stop bleeding soon on their own anyway... right?
Posted by Cheshire on Feb 26, 2010 18:56:12 GMT -6
Mutant God
3,233
18
Sept 24, 2018 19:41:05 GMT -6
Calley
>> "But. I. Don't. Know."
Calley looked up at her for a moment, from his hands-on-knees inspection of her drainage system. It was quite impressive, actually. Fascinatingly so, to the point where even the kitten started to calm down as they inspected the results.
But yes.
He and the kitten looked up and, tilting their heads at precisely the same angle, declared: “Your power is lame,” and “Mew,” respectively.
>> "In case you forgot, your pet ripped me some new ones. I think you owe me a new shirt."
“Nuh-uh.” The boy straightened, smoothing his hands over his wrinkly-from-running shirt. “I hereby deny all claims of kitten-induced harm. Those wounds, madam, were clearly inflicted upon your fine and upstanding... body,” did she just lift her shirt at him? Oh malemind yes. Not high enough, but... that made it... more distracting? “Errhm, inflicted before I made your charmed-I’m-sure acquaintance. Don’t you remember?”
Not that he was making fun of her power.
Just that he had a hunch that a lady who couldn’t remember her own address wasn’t good at holding grudges.
“You are still bleeding. For reasons unrelated to me. You should really get that checked out, you know.” Nod nod, certainly not making vindictive fun of the angry kicky lady, nod.
Really? 'Cause she already knew that. It wasn't exactly headline news. It just made her dislike him more for pointing out the painfully obvious. Or poking at it.
Noel slapped at a close hand, but was a bit too slow to catch skin. Kailey, on the other hand was getting an eye-full. Noel dropped her shirt before he started drooling.
"Those wounds, madam, were clearly inflicted upon your fine and upstanding... body, Errhm, inflicted before I made your charmed-I’m-sure acquaintance. Don’t you remember?”
Great. He had officially added insult to injury.
“You are still bleeding. For reasons unrelated to me. You should really get that checked out, you know.”
Or, she could get even.
There is a simple trick to a proper punch. Noel put her whole body behind it, bloody rivulets of cat scratch and all. If he wasn't bleeding after that. She'd just have to do it again. Harder.
The hand came up, balling as it went. There was a slight twist as the slender wrist extended, her shoulder following through, her body like a small rockslide rushing towards one point.
A sudden and disturbing crack of nose.
The boy's head jerked back: after a moment, gravity reminded the rest of his body to follow.
A meaty whamp as body met concrete. The boy was out cold.
"Mew," protested the kitten pinned under his shoulder, its claws scrapping against the rough sidewalk with drunken slowness as its dark blue eyes dilated to stare at nothing. "Mew. Mew. Mew."
Noel overstepped as he crumpled. She had been expecting… well, mutant tomfoolery. He didn't teleport away or levitate a building on top of her head or anything. He just took it like the pussycat he was. It was quite refreshing.
It took a little bloody shirt straightening and wincing over her side, but in the end Noel was still standing. And he was not. Fist pump of victory! Owowow. Bad idea. She nudged the kid with her foot. And once again with feeling.
He was out. The kitty complained. Sooo. What now? Take him home? That would require lifting. No, dead lifting his weight. Out of the question. She nudged his legs together with her foot and then grabbed his ankles so that she could pivot his body closer to the edge of the nearest building. As long as no one was tripping over him, he'd probably enjoy his little nap. Maybe. It could happen.
And the kitten was drunk again.
Noel took a seat next to the body and rolled it onto it's side. This let the blood drain out rather than drowning him and allowed Noel to pull out the vile knife creature.
She crossed her legs and put the kitten… no that suddenly seemed like a bad idea. It had tasted human flesh before. What was to stop it from wanting more?
She put the kitten between herself and the boy. Pet it a little. Moved away some more. Put her forehead into her open hands.
A women dragged a boy into a dark alleyway. Despite the fact that she could have been committing many unspeakable acts to his unconscious body, the general pedestrian reaction was simply to fill back in the space they'd vacated on the sidewalk, like a dam being lifted.
New York. It was... full of New Yorkers.
A few minutes later, Calley groaned. And coughed a little. His mouth tasted like blood. This was not a new occurrence: a cat has to eat, after all. But... the taste was in his human form's mouth, not the kitten's. And his nose hurt. And... he was laying on his side (and sitting in front of himself, wobbling), and... it was his blood?
The kitten-him got a steadier grip on its body as him-him blinked his eyes open. Vague memories of competent body dragging and awkward kitten patting filled in the murky darkness. He had been one-half unconscious.
Calley scooted his way upright against the brick wall, clapping a hand over his--
oww
--tilting his head back. That's what you were supposed to do, right? For nose bleeds? Maybe it was the same for
OWW
broken noses. Or maybe that just made the bone fragments drain down your esophagus, like little white flecks in a red tide.
He was going to stop visualizing that, now.
"You punched me," Calley snorkeled indignantly. The kitten, now huddled against his side like a black yarn ball of rage, provided the appropriate glare. Face-in-hands did not fool him. There was nothing vulnerable about kitten-kidnapping face-assaulting bully-women.
Her statement perfectly summed up the amount of her repentance. "I'll do it again if you don't put your chin down." Her amount of guilt was approximately the same size as Kailey's over her bloody torso. "You're gonna get blood in your brain, swell up that pea-sized grey matter of yours, and die if you keep that up." And he thought she didn't care.
Well. Now that he and the angry furred creature were less drunk she could probably be on her way. On to Chinese or something. Wasn't that what she was doing before? Did they have a no bloody shirt, no bloody shoes, no bloody service rule? If they did she might not make it.
She could go home and change first... uhh... wherever that was. She touched her arm automatically. Yeah. She could know where home was. Noel took a step toward the closest Chinese restaurant. Screw kitten boy.
>> "I'll do it again if you don't put your chin down."
Calley's initial and semi-automated response to this threat: his chin rose further. The back of his head knocked against the brick wall behind them. Which sent unhappy collision ripples through his skull and into the squishy mass formerly known as his sinuses. Oww.
>> "You're gonna get blood in your brain, swell up that pea-sized grey matter of yours, and die if you keep that up."
His blue eyes slid over to her, as he cautiously lower his head back down. Just a little. "Seriously?" He asked, in a voice that clearly (and timidly) called her bluff. Which he didn't believe. Maybe? His chin crept down a little more, as she stepped away from the scene of her dragged-the-body crime.
"Bye, so long!" He gurgled. "Go beat up some children and midgets. They're even easier than me."