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.
"Não! Toalha!!" was snapped, though with little enthusiasm, volume or speed. Along with the protesting words, he began to struggle a bit against Ilari's attempts to dress him. He was wet, why was the other man putting clothes on him?! He needed to dry off. It took him awhile, during which time he continued his struggles, to realize what he was actually doing wrong here. Of course, that just started him down the annoying path of trying to figure out what the correct word was when his brain already felt like it was trying to go down the path of shutting down defensively for sleep.
The entire time he continued his attempted struggles, though the Russian seemed like he wasn't about to be dissuaded by foreign ramblings or uncoordinated struggling. That only served to annoy Davi more, but there was really nothing he could do about that fact at all, considering how weak he was right now. Now what was that blasted word? The moment he thought of it, he was fully dressed, and Ilari was telling him to speak English, which resulted in a venomous, yet exhausted, look, and a rumble of, "Towel."
Posted by alexstarkova on May 27, 2010 3:00:20 GMT -6
Guest
"O- oh..." Ilari gave the other a long-suffering, exhausted look. "Sorry..." For a moment, he just stood there, staring at Travis, as if his brain was trying to register what to do. It was times like that when he realized what a crappy hand life had dealt him. He pushed a hand through his hair - which was getting too long - and sighed. "Yeah, sure," he mumbled, distractedly, and shuffled off to the hall closet, where he kept the towels. One was grabbed, and he threw it to Travis.
"I'm gonna heat up some food," he told the other. "Is there anything you don't eat?" Not that that would have been much of a problem to get around. Ilari didn't keep a lot of food in his kitchen. What he had could be easily warmed up in a microwave or his toaster oven. He could always make toast. As he thought about what to make, he headed into the kitchenette, which still allowed him a proper view of his guest. (The kitchenette was on the other side of the closet, from the front door. The side on the wall had the refrigerator, oven/stove top and sink. The other side, that opened to the living room, was all counter space, where his microwave sat.) He pondered making some soup.
That tossed towel struck Davi in the face, but he barely reacted more than to grunt, and then shakily start to try and rub his rather wild hair dry. He wasn't doing a very good job, due to his weakness, but that didn't stop him trying, repeatedly running it over his soaked mop over and over again, drying it a little more each time. At least, now, he could get far enough to realize that, even damp, these clothes were wonderfully thick, warm, and soft, leaving him able to start to think more easily and focus a bit better.
It was thanks to that, he was actually able to answer Ilari in English the first try, calling out, "Cow's milk. It makes my stomach hurt." While part of him spoke up as a quiet, niggling little voice, telling him that he shouldn't be eating the food of a stranger who looked even more unfortunate and worse off than he was, the rest of him refused to turn down much needed food. Even if he couldn't tell why he was so hungry, he knew he was; usually he could last longer than this without needing food, but his stomach was gnawing at him as if he'd been days without a meal.
Posted by alexstarkova on May 27, 2010 3:26:11 GMT -6
Guest
"Cow's milk," Ilari repeated, murmuring the words to himself, rather amused at the way Travis worded it. He smiled a little as he moved about to start heating up some soup. "Got it." Despite Ilari's living situation, he ate a lot of food. Part of it was a good, healthy metabolism. He'd always had a fast one. The other part, he guessed, was his mutation. He created light from nothing, after all, and he remembered some vague law they taught him in high school (that he broke, which made him oddly proud) that energy could not be created or destroyed, but rather transferred or converted. So, to make light energy out of nothing? Pretty awesome. He had to have gotten the energy from somewhere, right?
The leftover soup he was popping into the microwave was chicken noodle. It was a miracle that he even had leftovers, as he either ate them or fed them to stray cats. Soup, though, he liked to save, partly because none of the strays around where he lived would eat it. Picky little jerks. Anyway, heating the food up only took a minute or so, and he soon had it served into two different bowls, one of which he took to his guest.
"Chicken noodle," he explained. "Eat up. It'll warm you."
Davi merely kept rubbing his hair dry, giving small noises as he did and eventually dropping the towel to the side of him and staring off across the living room at the book shelf. After a moment, as he registered what he was seeing, a small look of surprise spread across his features; no television? He didn't know many people who didn't own a television. That was odd, to him. He'd had television in Florida, and he'd never found it really any use save in the occasional circumstance that a band he liked put on a televised show to a concert he couldn't get to. Even then he rarely had the channel, as it was on satellite or cable, neither of which his family could afford.
As Ilari brought over the food, the Brazilian was unresponsive for a moment as he lost himself in memory. Belatedly, however, he did snap to attention and look to the Russian, before smiling some and taking the bowl, "Ah, thank you. For all the help. You could have just left me." With that said, he begins to eat, shakily and slowly, but significantly more alert than before. Getting out of those wet clothes was very helpful.
Posted by alexstarkova on May 27, 2010 3:53:18 GMT -6
Guest
"No," Ilari found himself saying as he sat down next to the other. "I couldn't have." That was really all he had to say on the matter, as he turned his attention to his soup. The first sip? That was what heaven must be like. He could feel it, the warm soup slipping down his throat, hitting his stomach and spreading warmth throughout his core. A very happy sigh escaped his throat as he leaned back against the couch. Once he'd had some more, he decided to speak again. Strange, for him. He wasn't normally that talkative.
"You don't mind sleeping on the couch, do you?" he asked. "My radiator's on the fritz - again - and this always ends up as kind of the warmest room when that happens."
The dark skinned man's brows raised curiously at that statement, and he eyed Ilari a bit with intrigue. Even so, he chose not to say anything, reveling in the soup that was spreading warmth out from his core and into his limbs and the rest of his body. Soft, happy little hums came as he ate, perking up very visibly not too long after the food hit his stomach. With the returned energy, his body was starting to return to its current norm of a mildly-low metabolic state, instead of the low crash he'd just been in.
Amber eyes turned back to the Russian as he asked that question, and a true smile brightened the younger man's face. "I would sleep in your bathtub if it meant I did not have to walk home in this horrible, cold rain," he said, with a tinge of amusement to his voice. It was obvious, as well, that he was completely serious about that.
Posted by alexstarkova on May 27, 2010 4:07:06 GMT -6
Guest
"Oh, you wouldn't like that," Ilari laughed, oddly relaxed, now. "I don't have a bathtub!" That rose more laughter from the young Russian. It was factual, if a stupid joke. Still, he was amused, and that was what mattered. So did the soup. The soup mattered so much. Once he'd eaten enough of it, Ilari simply put the bowl to his lips and tilted his head back, finishing the rest of the soup off in a quick series of gulps.
He was warm, fed, and he had relaxing company, despite how the two had met. That made Ilari all different kinds of happy. It had been so long since he'd been around people. Getting to know more of them was just... awesome.
"Well now that would get in the way, yes?" the words were amused, and with a notable amount of energy that had been missing before. He was very soon to join the other young man in gales of laughter. Despite all the oddity of today, it actually was turning out to be a good day, though his laughter very suddenly stopped and he leaned over to Ilari a bit to inspect his head some.
"I must ask, are you alright? I remember kicking you quite hard. I hope I have not injured you." As he spoke, he inspected the person seated beside him, brows furrowed a bit. He was brought to pause with a bit of confusion as he spotted Ilari's scar, leaning closer to inspect it with curiosity.
Posted by alexstarkova on May 27, 2010 15:34:08 GMT -6
Guest
Ilari was quite relaxed, as they laughed about such a stupid thing. Really, it was nice to not be so stressed out, for once. Even with the horrible rain beating down outside. Actually, that horrible rain ended up making the situation a but more cozy. How fun. He jumped a bit when his guest leaned closer, but he relaxed once he noticed that Travis was only looking for lasting head injuries.
"Oh, I'm fine," he laughed uneasily. "I've taken worse hits than... this..." He furrowed his brows and trailed off when Travis leaned closer, confused. What was the other doing? It was only then when he realized that the man must have seen the scar on his neck. He thought they were more conspicuous than that. Perhaps not, if he had to get that close to figure out what he was looking at.
"See something that interests you?" he quipped, though there was a hint of unease in his voice. He was comfortable with the scars. They'd been there so long, he wasn't self-conscious at all. However, having someone so close was strange.
Posted by camazotz on May 27, 2010 15:53:49 GMT -6
Guest
That scar continued to hold Davi's attention for awhile, until the Russian gave that slightly uneasy question and made him realize he was staring. He pulled away a bit at that, slightly embarrassed by his rudeness, and leaned back on the couch to finish his soup with an apology. It wasn't until he was done that he actually offered an explanation. "My apologies. I was surprised to see you had such a large scar, and I was wondering where it came from."
Now that his soup was done, he was obviously doing a lot better. Well enough, even, to get up and go hunting for his MP3 player and headphones to bring back to the couch. His knowledge of social situations was good enough to know not to put them in while he was talking to Ilari, but he did want them there when it came time to sleep.
"I am glad you are alright, and I am sorry for attacking you. You surprised me and I am... Not sure what came over me," he murmured, brows knitting; he didn't remember being violent like that and he found it very odd that he'd get into such a big fight.
Posted by alexstarkova on May 27, 2010 23:26:44 GMT -6
Guest
A moment of muted panic passed over Ilari. The scar? He really didn't want to go into that story? How did one politely decline to talk about such a thing without sounding like he was keeping horrible secrets, and thus seeming incredibly suspicious? He chewed at his lower lip a bit, trying to race for an explanation. Luckily, the Brazilian offered more words, and Ilari sighed quietly in relief. Something else to focus on.
"In all fairness, I was trying to take your money," he offered with a chuckle. "I accept the possibility that I'm gonna get kicked in the head. Like I said. I've had worse." That said, he moved to take the emptied soup bowls to take them to the sink. It was true, too. When you lived as a thief, you had to accept the possibility that you were gonna get hurt. And when you lived as a thief in New York City, you accepted the fact that you ran the risk of getting beaten up, stabbed, shot at, or bludgeoned to death. Ilari was good at his job, though. He usually managed to avoid the bad fights, at that point in his life.
Posted by camazotz on May 29, 2010 19:01:08 GMT -6
Guest
The Brazilian was no longer focused on the scar as he started to dry off his MP3 player properly, and check to make sure no water had gotten behind the screen. He'd gotten lucky, with the piece of electronics actually still workable and dry on the insides and he was happy to count his blessings about that. A new one would just cost so much for him to replace right about now, what with rent and bills due next paycheck and literally no money saved up that could possibly go towards it.
When Ilari spoke, Davi's attention was pulled away from his now dried MP3 player. "My nonexistent money," came the chuckle and a small smirk, "Was it my clothing from work that made you think I had some?" He couldn't help but be quite amused by the thought, and honestly the situation was quite absurdly hilarious to him by now. Now that he could think straight, and actually look at it properly, it was rather ridiculous that all this could have happened in such a way.
Posted by alexstarkova on May 29, 2010 19:37:51 GMT -6
Guest
Ilari laughed, grinning sheepishly as his methods had been found out.
"You were dressed too nice for this part of town," he admitted. "I figured you had something, yeah." Ilari relaxed back against the couch, tired, and steadily warming up to comfortable. The only things that were still cold were his fingers and toes. That wasn't too hard to fix, as he brought his hands up to his mouth to warm them with his breath, intermittently between rubbing them together.
"Feeling any warmer?" Even though they probably weren't cold enough for it to be dangerous to sleep, Ilari still wanted to make sure they were warmed up before trying to tackle sleep. He'd also like to get to know Travis better, as they would be sleeping in the same apartment. Yes, Ilari really was that paranoid.
Posted by camazotz on May 29, 2010 20:09:17 GMT -6
Guest
"I have to dress nicely for work. Most of the rest of my clothing is old and worn. Just because the building is in a bad part of town, does not mean the boss wishes us to look like we work there." Frankly it was something he never quite understood; wouldn't it put a customer more at ease if you seemed the same class as they are? Ah, the intricacies of human interaction, sometimes he wondered if he'd ever manage to understand it, fully.
"Yes, warmer, but not as warm as I wish to be. It is far too cold here, for me. I long for the warmth of home... But moving back there is not a possibility for me," is added, as he shakes his head and gives a small sigh. He misses Brazil, but the amount of opportunity here in the States is too much to give up. Without memory of what life was like in Brazil outside of the unpleasant conditions in the logging camp, he has no idea what to expect.