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.
With her swollen feet, swollen fingers, back aches and two little boys that thought it was fun to fist fight over her bladder all night long, Ghost was quite ready to give birth. Or, at least, she was quite ready to not be pregnant any more.
She was not quite ready for Miles to turn up.
He might show at any moment. Today marked her next scheduled outing and Miles always escorted her out. Still... Ghost tugged at her shirt and picked up her hand-held mirror to check if this one maybe covered her entire belly.
No such luck. The pile of clothing on her bed was now complete and it was official. She could no longer wear shirts and pants. Just last week all of these shirts fit. She grew larger by the day, but it felt like she ballooned out by the hour. She was a beached whale. A bus with two passengers. A hot air balloon. She felt entirely huge and globular and blah.
And technically she wasn't due for another two weeks.
Ghost tugged a simple scarf dress over her head and checked the mirror. It fell scandalously short since the fabric had to stretch over her belly, but she didn't mind showing a little leg. It made the dress feel like less of a muumuu.
Posted by Cheshire on Jun 12, 2012 18:02:11 GMT -6
Mutant God
3,233
18
Sept 24, 2018 19:41:05 GMT -6
Calley
If there was one thing that extensive online research had taught Miles, it was that healthy babies needed exposure to a broad range of foods.
Yet when he had sampled Ghosty's snacks for quality during knitting breaks, what he found was... whole grain crackers. Little baggies of carrots. Cheese that actually came from a cow, with only a step or two of processing in-between. Low-fat yogurt.
It had rapidly become apparent that Ms. Csendes was neglecting an entire section of the food pyramid, as established by the USDA itself. And worse: the part she had chopped off was the very apex.
This simply would not do. As a concerned friend and captor, he had taken immediate steps to remedy the situation: McGrease King's Double Bypass. Kentucky Fried Possum's Namesake six-pack. Burrito Gong's Artery Opacitating Wrap. At least once a week, Miles made sure to take Ghosty out for exercise and a proper oiling.
Today's special:
"Have you ever been to the Dragon Inn? They've got some of the best fried ice cream this side of Chinatown." The panther man said, sticking his black-furred face in the door with a fanning of whiskers.
"Nice muumuu," he added. The internet had taught him all about pregger apparel, too.
"It's not a-" Who was she kidding? It was totally a muumuu. Head bowed, she allowed a moment of silence to pass for all fashion everywhere. Screw fashion. It was comfortable. The argument died in her throat before it ever really got off the ground.
Speaking of getting off the ground, Ghost shoved her hips and belly up first and kept her hands on her seat until the very last moment just in case her weight tried to keep her in her chair. Everything was more interesting while pregnant. If Miles thought that looked funny, he should try to see her roll over during one of her naps.
"You had me at fried, Mister Miles. Shall we?"
If Ghost had super spy hearing, she would have memorized the sounds of the numbers being pushed on the keypad that unlocked her glass cage. She had bigger things to worry about.
She put her delicate hands on her belly as the kids inside shifted yet again.
"Not a long walk at all!" The panther man assured his balloon-like ward, taking her arm like a true gentleman as he led her out of her cage. "A bit of a subway ride, but the station is really close to the restaurant."
Fairly close, anyway. Reasonably close. Besides, taking her for walks was part of his solemnly sworn duty: if even dogs deserved walks, then his Ghosty deserved extra walking.
The restaurant was over in—surprise!—China Town. He'd only been there once, but it had been good. Definitely memorable. Even if its exact location... wasn't. But it was totally all right: they asked around, and the timing really worked out—they ended up taking their seats after the lunch crowd had left, and before the dinner crowd had even started thinking about what they were in the mood for. Really, he couldn't have planned it better if he'd tried.
"I recommend the lomien," the panther said, his stubby fingers holding up a menu to his nose. Even with the glasses, there was some squinting required. Some of their ingredient lists were awfully fine-printy. "It comes out on a plate this big. Seriously, it's enough to feed four."
They say contractions feel the worst in the car. Whoever decided that had never had a contraction on the subway. Hard seats meant that she felt every bump in every bone. It made her belly tighten. By the time Ghost was slogging up the stairs, she was huffing controlled puffs through her lips. Contractions? No big deal. She'd had those since second trimester.
"Can we walk a bit slower?" That was the closest she ever came to complaining. Waddling just took longer. Also, waddling made pre-existing contractions stronger.
The silk brocade cushion she came to rest on was heaven, even if it was covered in clear plastic a la grandma's house. Ghost used her menu to fan herself rather than for reading. "Lomein. Sure." She puffed again, clearly uncomfortable. It was the heat. And the walk. Well, and her extra passengers.
"I feel like a bus." With her belly between her and teh table, it took some serious reaching to grab up the glass of water placed in front of her. The server eyeballed first the belly, then Ghost.
Posted by Cheshire on Sept 1, 2012 21:22:40 GMT -6
Mutant God
3,233
18
Sept 24, 2018 19:41:05 GMT -6
Calley
"A bus?" The panther man echoed, his whiskers brushing the menu as he tried to uncover the secrets of the Tofu Pheonix. Maybe he should look into bifocals... "Sure, we can take one on the way back, if that's what you want." It had peanuts, and seemed to be vegetarian. He could make that much out. Could he eat a purely vegetarian meal in this form? That was... a question he'd never considered before. His normal dietary habits did not generally include tofu.
Or oceans.
His furry face appeared over the top of the menu, following their waiter's gaze. Johnny, a part of his brain filled in; the teen's name was Johnny. He played chess. Calley couldn't remember where he'd picked up that trivia, but that hardly seemed important.
There was a whale, under that muumuu.
Rounded ears sprang to attention as black whiskers shied back. Blue eyes narrowed to slits—no, went round—no, back to slits—as the panther man's eyes tried to refocus behind their square lenses.
"Was it... something you ate?" He finally ventured, almost hopefully.
Take a bus home? No she felt like she was the bus. Ghost was carrying two passengers. But... now that she was thinking about it, taking the bus sounded better than the subway.
A slow shake of her head and Ghost stopped fanning herself with her menu. "I haven't eaten yet. How could it be something I ate?" That was that. "Lomein and hot tea, please." If she ignored it, it would go away, right? She wasn't due yet. Babies were supposed to come out when they are due.
It took mister waiter a moment to scribble Ghost's order down. The whole belly dance was a bit distracting.
She sucked down her ice water, passed off her menu to the boy whose apron had the name "Johnny" embroidered on it and then she decided to grip the table. At least the restaurant was pretty deserted. There weren't too many people around to witness her feeling a bit off.
Posted by Cheshire on Sept 1, 2012 21:47:01 GMT -6
Mutant God
3,233
18
Sept 24, 2018 19:41:05 GMT -6
Calley
"This is true," the panther said, his voice neutrally dubious. She hadn't eaten anything. So maybe it was the reverse: maybe she'd just worked up an appetite on the way over. A healthy, stomach-rumbling, world-destroying appetite.
"Sweet and sour chicken for me, please." The vegetarian thing: he was not going to risk it. Indigestion... was suddenly something he could picture all too well.
With the waiter gone, and the restaurant mostly deserted, it was time for Mr. Awkward Silence to come visiting.
"I'm making a scarf now," he said, to break it. "It's a lot easier than the hat." The hat had been hard. But Cafas' head had needed more pink, and Calley had manned up and knitted him some. "I'm not entirely sure what colors I'm using, though." The color blindness: this form had it. "Maybe you can tell me lat—err, are you feeling okay? The table is turning white." Also, her knuckles. But the table would if it could.
Scarf? Uhh yeah. Sure. They could talk scarf later. Right now she was busy concentrating.
"I'm fine." She was fine. She was totally. Fine. There was a fleck of paper on the table probably left from the last table's party. She wanted to flick it off the surface, but gripping the table was the only thing keeping her from squirming in her seat.
"I don't want to sit down anymore." That was the problem. She'd been sitting down too long. The walk had been good for her. She felt like everyone was all squished now. They needed more room and the only way to get that was to stand up.
So she stood up.
That was better.
She swayed a little bit.
That was even better so long as she kept her death grip on the table.
"It'll pass... right?"
There was a slight pop and then it sounded like someone was emptying a water bottle onto the floor. The look in Ghost's amber eyes was wild. She wasn't ready for this!
Posted by Cheshire on Sept 1, 2012 22:35:17 GMT -6
Mutant God
3,233
18
Sept 24, 2018 19:41:05 GMT -6
Calley
Blue eyes dilated to galaxy-sized pools of black. Whiskers and ears both lay flat, trying to hide as deep in his short fur as they could. His heart beat hit cat levels of speed, in a human sized body.
He wasn't ready for this.
"Wait. Just... Wait. I'll call Lori." Ghost wasn't the only one standing, suddenly, nor the only one dizzily gripping the table for balance. Deep breaths: good to take. The panther man released the table, and started patting down his vest and pants for his phone. His cell phone. His wonderful, wonderful—
It was here somewhere he knew it was he always had his cell phone except when he didn't—
"Okay. Okay. Just... hold that thought. I'm going to go use their phone."
It was okay. There were a lot of times when he couldn't carry a phone; unlike most people his age, he actually remembered the numbers in his contact list. He just needed something to mash them into.
Johnny was back, with an oversized black plastic serving tray balanced precariously as he stood in the kitchen doorway, staring.
"Phone," the panther man said.
Wordlessly, the teen pointed to a faded, grease-spotted relic on the wall by the counter.
Years of childhood gaming came back to him, as he button-mashed like a Street Fighters champ: Combo! Faust Pharmaceuticals, Lori's direct line!
"Pick up pick up pick up—"
As every gamer knew, chanting was the key to ultimate victory.
"Hold? HOLD?" Suddenly she felt like flipping the table over rather than gripping it. She couldn't hold anything right now. She couldn't walk. She couldn't sit.
Poor Johnny tried to set her tea down in front of her. Ghost grabbed him instead. Well, his shirt anyway. "What do I DO?!" She'd been reading and preparing for this moment, but now that it was here all the information had flown out the window.
Lomein splattered against her leg as the tray crashed to the ground. Dear Lord, let that be Lomein.
---
While doodling in the margin of an expense report, Lori's phone buzzed against her desk. She glanced at the number and clicked it off since she didn't recognize it. She was busy. If it was important, they would leave a voicemail.
Posted by Cheshire on Sept 1, 2012 23:04:19 GMT -6
Mutant God
3,233
18
Sept 24, 2018 19:41:05 GMT -6
Calley
The voicemail went something like this:
"Why hello, Lori," began a certain voice, its words carefully enunciated behind sharper-than-human teeth, its casual tone somewhat more forced than usual, "you know those buns you had in the oven? They're done."
Except less polite, from both the message leaver, and the voices in the background. In fact, there may have been quite a bit of impoliteness going on, from the time the message began to the time the phone was audibly fumbled back into place.
With the phone back on its hook, the panther man was left to face his fears.
...He hadn't known that watching a pregnant woman strangle a waiter with his own uniform shirt was a fear of his. It was good to learn these things about ourselves.
"Ghost, you need to calm down. Deep breaths." His own advice: he tried to take it.
Deep. Breaths. And a gentle, self-sacrificing attempt to loosen her grip on poor Johnny.
Calm down! She was giving birth! To not one, but two babies whose father was out there somewhere worrying to know if they were all okay. For all he knew, she might as well be dead! Instead she had been calmly behaving on her outings. Chinese food? What had she been thinking! She should have run the heck away while the kids were all still nice and bundled away for safe keeping!
Yes. Breathe. She could do that. Also, she decided there was still time to escape.
She let Miles loosen her hands before she balled them into fists and swung one right at Miles' schnoz. It was nothing personal. She had an escape to make.
Ghost hobbled two or three large bounds before the next contraction hit and she had to bend at the waist and lean against the door frame the waiters used to go back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room.
Posted by Cheshire on Sept 3, 2012 12:37:50 GMT -6
Mutant God
3,233
18
Sept 24, 2018 19:41:05 GMT -6
Calley
There were happy drunks, and sad drunks, and angry drunks, and sleep-with-your-brother drunks.
While Calley could not vouch for what kind of drunk Mrs. Maya Csendes was, she was clearly an angry birther. His schonz: it experienced its own contraction, towards his brain pan. The panther man stumbled back a step, more from surprise and oww and Ghosty had hit him than from pain. Ghosty was maybe not Sam's best student, in self defense class. Or maybe she'd just gotten a little behind on her daily pushups, when her belly had gotten yogaball-sized.
"Ghost, I—umm, I do not think that was very constructive, for the birth-giving process. Maybe we should find somewhere for you to just lie down and... breathe?" Breathing. Breathing always seemed important, in movies where someone gave birth.
Of course, in movies, the birth scene would be over by now, and a pair of perfectly groomed infants would be cooing in their happy mother's arms. Keeping her hands busy, so they couldn't make with the punching. And his schnoz.
Oww.
The panther man hovered just outside of further injury range, helpful advice from cinema and television tumbling from his mouth.
"What are you doing?!" The matriarch of the restaurant had come to see what all the coomotion was. Ghost had made it a couple more steps toward the back exit before the small, ancient woman caught up with them. She looked more like a leather bag than a person.
"This is not good! Close your legs!"
Should she punch the old crone too? "Trying to. Leave." That was as polite as she could manage between contractions. And gravity. Gravity was working against her here. She just couldn't stop what was already in motion.
Ghost ended up gripping the closest door frame with everything she had. The moment she had tried to pretend wasn't coming was finally here. She felt the need to push. No time to lay down. There wasn't even time to sit. The sound coming from Ghost was a primal woman war call.