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.
The kitten was being lowered. Slowly. Slowly. It held its front paws curled to its chest in tight hope: its hind legs stretched towards the floor, twitching for that first taste of glorious contact. The hair on its tail was fully on end. Its ears were back (and, following her molesting attempt at a scritch, further back). Its pupils were fully dilated.
She’d threatened to squeeze him. Who squeezes a kitten?
“Who are you, anyway?” The brown haired almost-man demanded, working his way back up the wall. Standing: standing cut a more impressive posture. Seriously, though: not even Isabel would stoop to kitten-squeezing, unless maybe she knew the kitten was him. “Some kind of pre-mass-murderer? Animal abuse is a sign of that, you know.” The TV said so.
As soon as the kitten was free, it skittered across the floor. The teenager stepped forward to (somewhat wobbly) meet it. Protective scooping up, vindictive cuddling, and joint glaring ensued.
“You are so lucky I’m the one you met. I don’t kill people.” Except for those two he tried not to think about. “And I do not carry messages.” Except for when he did. But Bully McIntimiPants here was not his master. Or his boss lady. Or a friend.
Pre-mass murderer? Something tickled at her mind. She was sure she'd killed before, though no face(s) swam to the surface, just vague guilt. Noel had voluntarily switched their positioning. The boy was standing (cuddling his kitten) and she was kneeling still where she had let the creature go. At least her shoelaces were free.
And who was she? Hm. That reminded her... Noel stood and went to the secretary's desk to borrow a pad of paper. The boy apparently had plenty to say.
“You are so lucky I’m the one you met. I don’t kill people. And I do not carry messages.”
That did not sound particularly lucky to Noel. If he had been the attacking type, she wouldn't have been the bully. She would have gotten to deliver her message on someone's face, the way that God intended. After procuring what she needed, she scribbled a note to herself, thanked the woman behind the desk and looked pointedly at the kid. Clearly she wasn't happy with him even though he didn't kill people.
Little did he know that he was going to carry a message whether he wanted to or not.
"I am sorry." Once she got eye contact, she wouldn't have to be anymore.
Forget that I ever touched your kitten. Forget that I threatened you. Forget that I stepped on you. Forget that you are mad at me. Forget I was mean. Forget to be sarcastic.
The last one was maybe a stretch, but it was worth a shot at least.
Glare (glare) as she stood up. Glare (glare) as she went to the desk. Glare (glare) as she wrote, and glare (glare) as she turned to him.
Blink (glare). Blink blink? (No no: glare glare.) But there was no reason to— (glare glarin’ glare.)
Calley remembered that he’d walked over to the woman, tapped her note, and fallen on the floor, quite of his own silly fault (and she had promptly stepped on him). But his fully-foofed kitten tail, laid back ears, and rapidly rising hiss didn’t seem to be all that warranted (except for the kitten-based threats, and the brief kidnapping). Yeah, except for—wait, what? (What what?)
“Umm, excuse me, Miss,” the brown-haired boy blinked, with disturbing elements of genuine politeness, “I don’t believe I caught your name. If I’m going to deliver a message, I need to know who you are, don’t I?”
Calley’s kitten-self settled into his arms, like a repressed ball of anger. It was very hard to think (when there was nothing to think about: the lady had a very understandable Order-induced problem) with his other half trying to do the thinking for him. But he was Calley. Caleb Swartz. The clutter. If there was one thing he was used to (there’s really no need for—) doing (what are you even talking about? she’s a nice—) it was (let’s not be hast—) making himself shut up.
Human-me. She’s a telepath. Or a mind-manipulator. Or a something.
There’s no need to be so rude.
The kitten’s tail gave a flick, as it directed its attentions to it paw: a delicate grooming ensued. Its gaze was fully directed on its task. They’d known a certain mind-manipulator who worked through the eyes. Clearly, whatever this woman had done, it had only worked on their human half. Hopefully that wasn’t for lack of trying: if their kitten-self was immune to her, that would be lovely. If it wasn’t? Well, then. He’d take whatever precautions he could.
...As you were, biped. It was best to observe, for now, like a proper spy upon himself. Lick, lick, tail flick.
“Umm, excuse me, Miss, I don’t believe I caught your name. If I’m going to deliver a message, I need to know who you are, don’t I?”
Noel opened the paper in her hands. The gentle rocking of her world spoke of her talents. After a clearing of her throat and a quick read she could answer his question. "My name is Noel. I won't be moving. The secretary can tell them I'm a mutant." Noel looked to the woman behind the desk with a question in her eyes. There was some mutual shrug nodding. Noel wasn't entirely sure if she'd been paying attention.
"And your name is?" She readied the pencil. Musn't forget the boy. She might have to tell someone to talk to him instead of evicting her.
Calley blinked-blinked his human eyes over a little pile of grooming kitten. “You’re a mutant, Miss Noel? That—err—mailing was definitely a mistake, then. What’s your address? And, err, what’s your power? Because I’m guessing someone will ask me.”
Like the kitten. The kitten was definitely pressing that question. Its tail fur may have resettled, but its grave need for comeuppance most certainly had not. A cat is not one to let slights be forgotten. And a kitten is simply a cat-in-progress.
A vapid stare. If he hadn't blatantly not answered her question she would have had to start stripping to answer his.
"You didn't answer my question." She tried to sound pleasant rather than accusatory as she consulted her paper. Where did she live? The paper warned her against sharing that information. What she did was forget things, she never could seem to forget that.
"My power is ah- subtle." And now she was being gracious about people threatening her? Hm. Really, it was possible that she didn't want to live so close to bigots, but the paper did say that she didn't want to move. She had to trust that. "If they asked you, you wouldn't likely be able to help..."
Noel looked to the secretary again. She was definitely interested now. That was good. And if she got too much, that was okay as long as there wasn't recorded... proof... lightbulb. "Is there a security camera in here?" Of course the paper had told her she'd been a bully... maybe she didn't want to know.
“Oh! I’m sorry,” the blue-eyed teenager startled. “I’m Calley. Where did you say you lived, again?” He asked politely, so as not to imply she was dodging his question with questions about dodged questions. That would just be rude. “If we’re going to make the threats stop, I’ll need to tell them who and where not to threaten. I’ve got the who. I think I kinda need the where, though. Still. A bit.”
Was she trying to sound pleasant? It made her sound a little like stale cotton candy. Disturbing. He... kinda wished she’d stop doing that. And what was she reading from that paper? It would be awfully out of line for him to simply go over and peer at it. Yet somewhere in the back of his mind (and most distinctly in the furry bundle in his arms) lurked the desire to do so.
>> "My power is ah- subtle. If they asked you, you wouldn't likely be able to help..."
“Sure I could!” He blinked, with a guileless smile. “I could tell them what it was. Subtle is okay. A lot of mutants are subtle. I can be subtle too, if I want to be. There’s no need to be shy, Ma’am—err, Miss. We’re all mutants here, after all.” Except maybe for Lisa. Lisa was... subtle.
>> "Is there a security camera in here?"
Calley swallowed a snort-laugh, by way of answer. Cameras. Yesssss. You could say that. But only if your thoughts were bordering on the sarcastic.
Kailey. Noel scribbled that down. Poor kid had a girl's name. Better than scrabble kid, Carrot, Karen, uhh--- Carrick. Yeah. Ick. "I'm sorry, but I am not sure who to share that information with. How do I know you wouldn't just put me on some torch list or something?" There was no way to know if this girl-name was in on the threats, though it could be if she had been bullying him. Hearing a sincere 'no, i will not send people to kill you' would make her more likely to get her information, though.
She wasn't entirely sure what his answer was about the cameras. Sometimes the intricacies of the younger generations were lost on her. They were all internet brainwashed. Maybe she'd said a funny that was on youtube or something. "Uhm. Well if you want to check the security tapes you'll see what... happened." And that would explain about her power enough.
>> "I'm sorry, but I am not sure who to share that information with. How do I know you wouldn't just put me on some torch list or something?"
“Umm, because you’re a mutant? They don’t really go after mutants. That’s kind of the point.” Calley replied, edging juuuuust a small, innocuous step closer. That paper. She was... writing on it, some more. He just wanted a small peek. It wouldn’t hurt anything. And that polite inhibition of his was fading away rather quickly, particularly under the influence of blackkitten!him. Who was really, really starting to make sense again. Particularly since, where the kitten’s memory was concerned, his human memory seemed to... not really be supplying an alternative. The kitten kept up its grooming, its eyes half-lidded with a little purr. The disjoint feeling between their thoughts was starting to ease. Err, back towards its former level, anyway. One-half of him was still having trouble mustering up the distinct loathing that the other felt, however. Human-him was more... curious. Nefariously curious.
>> "Uhm. Well if you want to check the security tapes you'll see what... happened."
“Oh, you mean the thing where you made me forget? It’s okay, I remember that without the tapes.” Calley said, with a pleasant nod devoid of irony. Blink blink, cute baby-blue blink.
Sudden While-You’re-Maybe-Surprised Special Technique—attempted paper peek!
“Umm, because you’re a mutant? They don’t really go after mutants. That’s kind of the point.”
"I really prefer genetically divergent." Or genetically impaired. Maybe not out loud for the last one. The response came naturally and sort of out of no where for Noel. Genetically divergent. She had probably heard that somewhere... she might have to write that one down, though. It was good.
“Oh, you mean the thing where you made me forget? It’s okay, I remember that without the tapes.”
Her scribbling was interrupted. "You remember?" She racked her brain. She did not not remember. How did he? She tried to remember what those words had tasted like, but she really hadn't been paying attention. Wouldn't a horrible taste stand out?
She tried to think back to his exact wording, but memory really wasn't her strong suit. He'd finagled a lie out of truth, she was sure.
Stare, stare, unyielding and penetrating stare to match every innocuous blink.
While her head had been buzzing, his brown head of hair peeked at her paper. It wasn't anything really special. Her name. A warning not to trust people that made threats. Why she was here and that she'd have to take off her shirt to give them her address so she probably wouldn't want to do that. Kailey's name.
The paper folded in half and her fingers ran down the spine to make a proper crease. "Well if you remember then I suppose we're squared away here. If I receive unwanted callers I'll be coming back for a chat, Mr. Kailey."
Her name? Her purpose? Her address was under her shirt?
Blink, oh le blink. That was indeed an important note, apparently. Me thinks the lady forgets herself. The note was folded, with the same abrupt edges that her personality seemed to carry. He retracted his peeking head.
>> "Well if you remember then I suppose we're squared away here. If I receive unwanted callers I'll be coming back for a chat, Mr. Kailey."
She had spelled his name wrong. He saw no particular reason to correct her. There was, however, a clear matter she was forgetting. Yes, forgetting.
“Umm, Miss? Aren’t you forgetting something? Your kitten.” Calley held out the little black fuzz ball. There was no trace of the lie on his face, or in his heartbeat. There never really was.
The kitten yawned delicately, its oh-so-sleepy eyes on the floor.
Alarm bells. Yogurt covered gym sock alarm bells. Not only would Noel never dare to keep a dependant creature/friend/lover/anything, this (she checked her paper) Kailey was definitely lying to her
Why?
Who could say?
"Uh-ohhh. I forgot?" Sometimes making it a question made her decit taste less like the bottom of a garbage pail. She tried not to fudge because it never tasted like it, but this seemed worth it. She would never learn his intentions unless she took the bait.
And so she took the kitten. It was all kinds of nice and soft. A memory flickered to the surface for an instant before it was gone again. Luxurious fur coat. Noel smiled.
"Well, I won't be seeing you."
Hopefully. Noel pet the cute lil kitty on her way to the door. It was tempting to try to keep something around, but it really should be a roommate or something. Maybe a personal assistant...? Nah. She wouldn't subject someone to that. That was what her phone was for.
Posted by Cheshire on Jan 22, 2010 18:20:11 GMT -6
Mutant God
3,233
18
Sept 24, 2018 19:41:05 GMT -6
Calley
The kitten package was accepted. Operation Forget Me Not was a go.
>> "Well, I won't be seeing you."
“Bye now,” Calley said, waving a benign hand after her. A shiver ran up the boy’s spine. A happy, entirely disturbing shiver.
She was petting the kitten. Oh le involuntary purr, you bipedal furmancer. Not to say that she was a particularly skilled furmancer, mind you: the kitten was left entirely unsatisfied. Her hand was concentrating there, when it should be dividing its attentions a little more over there, and—what? Was that supposed to pass for an ear scritching? Ha! The little black ball of softness and warmth squiggled in her arms, taking matters into its own paws. Its back arched, guiding her unskilled hands; its head bumped back against her body with a demanding mrack! until its ears were properly scrit—ooooo, that was the spot.
Back in the lobby, Calley scratched at his own ear, warding off the doubling of the senses. His eyes were already closed. Because he was standing in a lobby—
—and he was being carried down the street—
—and one-half of him rather enjoyed this petting, thank you—
—while the other half was greatly, my friends, greatly disturbed by it.
So far, so good on the range. He’d been a little worried he’d max out, or one of their hearts would stop (this being a great inconvenience). Before, his splinters had to be touching him, or carrying part of his own mind with them to continue functioning. Literally carrying: the part he put in them was very clearly not in him. Now, though... he was all here.
She walked out the door. Nothing. She started down the street. Nothing. Noel paused. Where was she going? Let's see it was uhh... yeah. She shifted the kitten to check her phone.
Ah. According to the magical little device it was about 4:58pm and she had only eaten a late breakfast. Since it had taken so long to straighten out the harassment situation, it was getting to be about time for another meal.
The creature in her arms shifted its head so that she was idly moving her fingers against a spot hear the back of an ear. Oh. The cat. What was she supposed to do with it? Were there restaurants in New York that would let her have it in hand? There were certainly some that would cook it if she wanted...
Chinese was sounding pretty good right about now.
So she checked her phone for a place nearby. At least she could grab some take out. The kitten was tucked in a footbalesque manner as Noel started walking again, her course now plotted.
She walked out the door. Nothing. She started down the street. Nothing.
The kitten protested its blatant mishandling with sqiggling and pitiful meows, but otherwise kept up its purring. So far, this was going really well. Back in the lobby, Calley grinned (and, after taking a few wobbling steps towards his bedroom, opted instead to sit on the waiting chairs by the wall. Lisa disapproved. Her face was overlaid in his head by a phone that read 4:58pm.) He closed his eyes, and leaned his head back against the wall. It was cool.
Noel’s arms were warm. Which was good: kittens were not built for winter. This, the black kitten was belatedly remembering. Snuggling more properly under her arm ensued. He shed black fur all over her clothing to show his gratitude. They kept walking.
The pain started promptly at the second block. Under her arm, the kitten went rigid. Its little prickly claws dug into anything they were touching.
Back in the Sanctuary, Calley fell out of his chair (and took the chair down with him. Lisa disapproved.) He skittered on four legs for a moment, then remembered he was only supposed to have two. This aided considerably in the running. The door was hard to find (when the kitten was staring at the black backs of its eyelids but the darkness didn’t make the pain go away) with his vision masked half in Sanctuary, half in black, and his head hurting. It wasn’t the kind of pain you take an aspirin for, and it goes away.
Apparently he did have a range. Apparently bad things happened, if he tried to go beyond it. He did not want to know what the Bad Things were. He slipped and twined and collided with pedestrians, working his way along a sidewalk he’d recently been carried along.
“Wait! Wait!” She likely heard him coming. His voice was very, very sincere.