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.
My oh my... The girl had certainly been busy hadn't she. It was an impressive site, the massive spires marking the hive queen's territory. He hadn't set eyes upon them since they'd just been started, and even then it was simply because a scout had noticed something suspicious. He turned to the minion to his right, and held out his hand. The minion reached into his shell and produced a small cockroach.
"Thank you, Enrique. I trust you took good care of Leslie?" He addressed the minion while looking at the bug in his hand. "Hells yeah, Mang," Replied the minion. The tiny roach was eyeing him in a nervous fashion. Not that anyone other than he knew what a nervous cockroach looked like. "Now now, Les. Don't be nervous. Your new home will be lovely, I'm sure."
She seemed assured by that, at least in some small way. Gregory's antennae perked as he placed her in his shell, and turned to his minion. "You'll be staying here. It's best I go in alone. Keep an eye out. Call over the radio if anyone approaches."
"Hells yeah, Mang." He replied again, which caused Roach to stare at him for a moment, and then turn to head toward his destination.
As he walked, he felt a nervous skittering in his shell. He wasn't sure if it was Leslie, or he himself. Sure, she was here to do something dangerous, that being spy on the queen of this land; word on the street was that the queen of swarms was quite unpredictable these days. It made him more excited to see her, to tell the truth; he'd always meant to visit her. Time sort of just... flew when you were in charge of a giant death pit, though. He hadn't been able to find himself free until now, and even then he couldn't stay long. No use letting those issues cloud his head, now. He had quite a hike ahead of him, after all.
Something was wrong. As he reached the foot of the first spire, that much was obvious. Namely, the ground was littered with bugs. Many not quite dead, but hanging onto life by a string. They were hungry. Wasps, flies, bees, dragon flies, and even cockroaches littered the ground, starving for over the simple fact that no one had told them to eat. The queen was getting sloppy. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath, and forged onward.
It wasn't difficult to find the main spire; not for a creature like him. A queen's chambers should always have more room, and be more spectacular than the housing for the rest of the rabble. He had to say, looking at her domain, he was proud of her... When he'd first met her, she was still clinging desperately to some shallow, broken concept of humanity, and happiness through normalcy. Now, it appeared she'd really embraced her true self. Still, the further he wandered into her territory, the more downed creatures he saw; it was getting difficult not to step on them as he walked. He wondered if they were just like this when she took naps?
"Agnes, my child, it's very important you tend to your responsibilities... such a mess simply won't do..."
Considering how long it had been since her swarm had eaten, this must have been quite the nap. Even now, he knew he was being dishonest with himself... This place had been attacked. There was clearly damage that screamed that fact out loudly. He ignored the screams the best he could, but his feet still somehow seemed to move faster against his will.
What he saw when he entered the main hive didn't draw a wail of torment, or a pledge of vengeance... As his eyes fell on the two figures laid out on the floor, his heart simply skipped a beat, and he froze in place.
He stared for some time, until a nervous bite from Leslie drew his attention. The giant bug then slowly walked over to the couple, stoically soaking in the scene. He came to a stop next to Agnes, and knelt down, staring at her slightly open eyes... her smile. The other one, she smiled as well. Hands moved to close those eyes, finger tips brushing against green hued skin. Another movement brushed some hair from her face... Poor child.
He stayed there for a while, trying to decipher his feelings... In the end, he couldn't. He gave up. There were too many, and they were all far, far too human. He stood, turned, walked a few feet away, and started digging.
He only gave pause to whisper something to Les, who skittered off quickly to carry out his commands.
Posted by Gina Schuyler on Sept 29, 2012 21:39:19 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
palevioletred
pansexual
taken - by nessa
1,265
196
Apr 25, 2024 23:12:30 GMT -6
Sophy
Silence.
The gargoyle was greeted by an unfamiliar phenomena as she approached the Spires, the sense of stillness pressing in on her from all sides. It was silent. As one drew nearer Agnes’s domain, it was common to hear a faint hum, even from this far out—it was so soft, it was almost impercievable, like a crawl upon the back of your neck. At first, it had unnerved the teen, but now it was commonplace—the absence of the sound of swarms scared her more than the presence thereof.
The skies were clear—anywhere else, that would have been a good thing—not hear. Not now. Where were the goddamn swarms?! Gina swallowed the anxiety in her stomach, but her approach quickened. Perhaps Agnes was just giving the airborne beasties a break? Sure.
As was typical of their visits, Gina landed at the perimeter, and was greeted by the next peculiarity. The bugs had fallen still, for the most part—some of them, their legs flailed uselessly, or they crept along weakly, but most were dead. Completely dead.
“Guys?” Gina inquired. They’d always been able to understand her, Agnes understood them. They’d know, “What’s going on?”
There was no sign of a response. Something was very wrong. Gina kicked off of the ground, forgetting the routine, and launching herself forward with powerful wingbeats, her body following familiar avenues, whilst her mind wandered elsewhere. Her expression was stern. Determined, yet numb. She didn’t see the blatant signs of conflict, for her internal dialogue had preoccupied her too much.
Gina was caught by how surreal it all was, and trying to fight the steadily rising panic—it was as if her anxiety was caught behind a damn from which a single leak had sprung. She stopped one hole up, and another emerged. It was only a matter of time before she couldn’t stop the next leak and the downpour—be it of relief or bereavement—would strike soon enough.
Gina landed on the balcony upon which she’d landed so many times, running inside with a shout. The dying insects were not as plentiful, there, so she didn’t mind her steps as carefully.
“Agnes!” Gina yelled, her voice tough with strain. When she called out a second time, her tone cracked, betraying her, “Agnes!”
The throne room was cool and empty. It was the only room that was familiar to Gina, but she would skim the tower top-to-bottom until she found her. Agnes had to be here… unless she wasn’t. Some hopeful, naïve part of the gargoyle wondered if, perhaps, her sister had found her humanity and walked to the Town…? And with her newfound humanity, couldn’t control all the bugs, couldn’t take them all with her? Maybe. For now, that “maybe”, however unlikely of a “maybe” it was, was what Gina clung to. She had to find her sister…
Her feet carried her from room-to-room, and each time Gina entered a room, she cried out for her sister. Her tone lost its resolve—a quiver seeped into it, betrayed her anxiety and fear—and pet names joined it, references to “Sis”, and “Aggs” sounding almost pained as Gina shouted them. She had to be there. She had to be. Gina finally reeled into perhaps the thousandth hallway she’d approached today, and she slumped over in exhaustion. Her breaths were ragged, her heart hammering in her chest as she came to a pause. Agnes… she couldn’t find Agnes anywhere… And now, she was also lost. Without a single glimpse of sky, the gargoyle had no idea where to turn now.
A rather animated cockroach skittered past, and Gina noticed it with a start.
“H-hey! Hey, you!” she shouted at it. It kept going without stopping. Gina looked in the direction from which it had come, and began to walk that way—as she drew closer, she heard digging, and when she came to a rather crude doorway, what her met her eyes broke her resolve in an instant.
The dam had broken.
Her mouth opened to sculpt words, but her lips nor tongue found any to suffice. Two familiar forms lay crumpled, lifeless, on the floor, as if to sleep, but without life. My god… oh my god… Gina wanted to murmur. Agnes… Becca… Her mouth opened, and all that emerged was a sob. The pain of loss tore through the gargoyle, and was manifest in her cry. With her second breath, came a single, trembling utterance.
“No… no…” Gina ran in—with complete disregard for the enormous cockroach in the corner—and fell to her knees beside her sister, partially blinded by the tears that were raising up within her eyes. Her weapon, a modified shovel, was discarded just to her side, as her hand preoccupied themselves with fussing over the motionless forms.
“Agnes, wake up,” Gina moaned, “Becca, you too… guys… please…”
Gina shook arms that were unnaturally stiff for anyone living, touched faces that were as cold as slate as if touching the face of an unconscious relative that one held near. However cliché, though Gina knew that they were both truly dead, her heart couldn’t handle such a though. Her mind couldn’t contort around it, and her entire body had surrendered itself to sobs and shivering. No…
BLPT-CHK- "Yeah Mang, You gots company, Mang. Some kina dragon. Wan me to cut it, mang? I' cut it. I' cut it bad." The words echoed in his chitinous head for a moment before they registered. The hole he'd made was quite small; clearly hands weren't meant for this stuff, inhuman strength and all. Still, he'd been digging away, not a thought in the world... how long had passed?
A hand steered by the smallest notion of a thought grasped his walkie, and pressed down the button. "I don't think that will be needed... Leslie is on her way to you with instructions." Who ever was headed his way would leave him alone, or die... There was no use worrying himself over it; he had a hole to dig. He tossed the radio device over his shoulder, and got back to digging, wondering what would give way first, that next layer of cold ground, or his fingers... Somehow, it didn't matter to him either way.
It wasn't long before he started hearing the calls echo through the structure. Someone was looking for Agnes. What a shame, she wasn't in. He glanced over to the cold bodies, still in a sort of embrace, though it was evident they'd been pulled apart, probably by the one who murdered them. However they'd died... it must have been quite poetic. A monster and a knight, embracing in their death throes. He let out a long, tired sigh, and got back to gouging into the ground.
A shadow passed over the door way... Their guest had arrived. He supposed he may have to kill her. Most people tended to either embrace him as a god, or want to kill him for shoving a relative of theirs into the pit. More often it was the second one. Oddly enough, the woman, not a dragon at all, ignored him completely, and got to mourning. He watched her silently, and before long his eyes drifted to the shovel at her side... Of all of the coincidences...
He stood slowly, and walked on over, careful to remain silent; he didn't want to interrupt her grieving, did he? He carefully reached down to grab the shovel, and then heavily considered smacking her in the back of the head with it. No, no... That would be slightly rude. Instead a hand carefully maneuvered around wings to land softly on her shoulder.
"You know they are not sleeping, child... Lying to yourself will not change that." It sounded harsh, didn't it... More harsh than he'd thought it would, no matter how soft he uttered it...
Thanks to Andrea and Jorge for my sigs! I WABBLE YOUUU! AV Roach~
Posted by Gina Schuyler on Oct 2, 2012 0:08:42 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
palevioletred
pansexual
taken - by nessa
1,265
196
Apr 25, 2024 23:12:30 GMT -6
Sophy
Someone made a grab for her shovel, placing a steadying hand upon her shoulder, and Gina reacted accordingly—her form tensed, and her hand reflexively went to the handle of the shovel, and she spun around, attempting to pull it back.
At first glance, it might have served as a decent tool—but upon closer inspection, it was modified beyond being of any true, natural use. The blade was cut down and sharpened, the handle was half of its original length, sanded to be more ergonomic in Gina’s hand, and bore ornate carvings. In its former life, perhaps it had been a gardening tool, but now it was a weapon. She didn't know if the person was a threat or not.
Though, in the back of her mind, Gina knew that if whoever-it-was, if they’d meant on killing her, they would have done so already. She turned to face the offending individual, her brown eyes hard yet full of tears. Her throat was too tight with emotion to speak, though she did attempt to open her mouth to do so anyways, before closing it as an afterthought.
Damn it, Agnes.
The enormous cockroach that now grasped Gina's only weapon (besides her naturally-granted ones) saw fit to speak-up. Her expression darkened. Yes, it was cruel—however true the reassurance was, it was still quite callous. She wanted to lash out and strike him, yell at him. Gina didn't know what she would yell, but it was a better emotion to feel the hollowness that was washing over her—anything was better than the pain of loss.
“Please take your hand off of my weapon…” Gina murmured, her tone quivering yet resolute. Who he was didn't much matter to her—she didn’t want someone to watch her mourn, though the dismay was still apparent. Perhaps if he hadn't made a grab for her weapon, Gina would have greeted him more kindly, but as it were, he had not-- she was looking for some other emotion to feel the hollow, distraught void, and it flavors of annoyance and misplaced fury were seeping in. She could have done something, she should have done something, and she didn't. She couldn't. And now, her sister and a dear friend were both dead.
God pity the soul of the giant insect if this was this was his doing-- god pity his soul.
“Who are you?” she inquired, her brow furrowed, her vice-like grip remaining around the shovel's handle, “And what is your business here?”
She was doing her best to be resolute, but her expressions betrayed her. Her tone was raw, her eyes were tearful, and if it weren't for the tug-of-war over her only weapon and the presence of this stranger, Gina would still be mourning. Not now, though... later...
The woman didn't take kindly to him grabbing her shovel, and touching her... Also, the whole 'your friends are definitely dead' statement also seemed to offend her... Well... This wasn't going well, was it. The petite gargoyle attempted to yank the shovel from his hand, but she would find herself pulling on something that might as well have been embedded in a 1 ton concrete block. He ignored her request for him to release her weapon, looking down to the deceased on the ground at their feet.
He was completely unyielding both in the physical aspect of struggling over the shovel, and the emotional aspect of the death around them.
“Who are you?” Her grip on the tool was surely solid, but every part of her being was shaking... With grief? Nerves? Shock, perhaps... Maybe this whole situation was just a little too much. “And what is your business here?”
"I am a man who came to visit a friend to find her dead... And now I am burying her." He spoke in the same soft, yet still firm voice he'd had when he'd made himself known to her. He looked toward the small gouge in the ground a few yards away... "A shovel is a tool, not a weapon... It's meant to cultivate, not destroy. To cultivate... or to mourn... Now... I'm stronger than you are. I can dig faster. So... if you will let go. We will both be able to say our goodbyes soon." He kept his grip on the shovel, and started walking toward the soon to be grave site... If she let go, he would simply continue on... If she didn't, he would simply continue on, and best of luck to her in trying to halt him.
"I... Must admit, I am not good in emotional situations... I am more creature than man, and mourning is quite a human thing to do... Perhaps, though, if you find you want to talk about it... I will be adequate?"
Thanks to Andrea and Jorge for my sigs! I WABBLE YOUUU! AV Roach~
Posted by Gina Schuyler on Oct 12, 2012 15:08:17 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
palevioletred
pansexual
taken - by nessa
1,265
196
Apr 25, 2024 23:12:30 GMT -6
Sophy
The enormous cockroach-man was not shaken at all by Gina’s blind bitterness, though his insistence to use her shovel to dig was infuriating—didn’t the fool see the modifications?! And he had the nerve to discuss the semantics of her weapon with her. In a confusing whirl of emotion, her grief churned closer and closer to something that was far easier to deal with—anger. At what, she didn’t know, but for the time being, it would be anger at the cockroach. He was just in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
“A lot of things have changed and found new meaning, and new purposes, with time,” the gargoyle growled, “This former tool is a weapon now. You’re going to dull the blade by using it to dig.” Sure, formerly it cultivated, formerly in mourned—now it cut down people that stood in the gargoyles’ way. Unfortunately, you couldn’t bludgeon someone with a shovel when their grip was stronger than yours. On the other hand… it was for Agnes and Rebecca. And their bodies didn’t deserve to be left out to decompose. Burial would be proper, and it was what Gina would have wanted for them. Her expression tightened, and her gaze dropped. Fine.
She released the shovel as the man stalked-off with it. Gina returned to her two fallen friends, clenching her teeth against persistent tears. The man went about his digging, and Gina knelt between Agnes and Rebecca, at their heads. She shook with quiet sobs, alternating between combing back Agnes’s hair, and then Becca’s, and paying little attention to the insectoid-creep behind her. She really, really didn’t want to talk about it, but he (apparently) did.
>> "I... Must admit, I am not good in emotional situations... I am more creature than man, and mourning is quite a human thing to do... Perhaps, though, if you find you want to talk about it... I will be adequate?"
It would only be fair—he’d told Gina of his business there, so… why not return the favor. Gina inhaled, let the silence sit for a few measures as she tried to hoard what scraps of composure that remained closer, before finally speaking-up.
“Agnes is… was… practically a sister to me,” Gina explained, “We were very close. I came to visit her, tried to talk her into returning to… the settlement with me, even after I found out she was with Sebastian the whole time. Rebecca… was her soulmate, I’m pretty sure. And she was my best friend.”
Gina pressed the back of her hand to her eyes, her wings extending slightly to hide the rest of her from view. She went quiet again, her mouth moving as if to sculpt words, but no sound escaping it.
“I wouldn’t have wanted it to be any other way—to have them die together,” Gina murmured quietly, “And happy… I just… you never want your friends to die. They were one of the few things that I had left to care for, in the world.”
Gina wasn’t rummaging for pity. Pity was the last thing she wanted—she was just being totally candid with this absolute stranger. What mattered most to her were those she cherished before the Apocalypse, and now, two of them were dead.
“I loved them so much, and I never got to tell them that,” Gina breathed, “I sure as Hell didn’t show it, either. I could’ve…” She broke off—she could’ve done something. Saved them. Protected them. If only they’d let her. She could have brought them to the fortress, cared for them—and she couldn’t. Perhaps if she could have, they wouldn’t’ve been dead now.
The shovel made the work much more fast paced... Having the strength of ten men also helped. In conjunction, the two produced a rather deep hole with incredible swiftness. Between the sounds of shovel digging into earth, he listened to her testimony... She was closer to the two... He'd gathered that they were lovers; most people weren't so happy to die in each others arms.
To tell the truth, though... he hadn't seen anyone so happy in some time... ever, actually... The realization made him feel... Tired.
He froze at the thought, looking down at the ground for a moment. The hole was deep enough. He shoved the tool turned weapon into the ground once more.
“I loved them so much, and I never got to tell them that, I sure as Hell didn’t show it, either. I could’ve…” It snapped him from his disturbing lack of thought, mercifully. "You cannot blame yourself for this. You can only mourn and move on. That's all we can do." He slowly climbed from the grave, and stood tall, looking down on the two.
"When I first met her... she looked much like she does now... She was so concerned with how the way she looked separated her from the world... I thought she was beautiful. She told me... The one thing she wanted... was a chance to be happy." He stared down in silence. "I have never known a look like that... She looks... complete."
He tossed the shovel to the ground at his feet, and let out a long sigh. "In a world as broken as this one... Perhaps a happy ending is the best anyone could ever ask for." It was sad... thinking that he was in charge of the lives of so many people, and he could never share with them the happiness this girl felt... They would all slowly get broken and scarred with misery and bitterness until the light in their eyes fizzled out, and they were empty shells.
Perhaps a mercy killing would be for the best.
"Will you help me place them in the grave? I made just enough room for two."
Thanks to Andrea and Jorge for my sigs! I WABBLE YOUUU! AV Roach~
Posted by Gina Schuyler on Oct 28, 2012 15:38:06 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
palevioletred
pansexual
taken - by nessa
1,265
196
Apr 25, 2024 23:12:30 GMT -6
Sophy
Ginas’ shoulders were slumped, even though she nodded her head. No, Gina couldn’t be that hard on herself… but she was… she couldn’t help but feel that there was something she could have done, even if there was nothing that she could have done at all. There was an unshakable guilt of being the only one of a trio of friends left alive after God-knew-what happened.
The buggy-looking guy said his piece, and Gina bit her lip, absently fixing Agnes’s hair, before doing the same to Becca. Her touch was gentle and light, almost reverent. In truth, she was being delicate and using her claws, only because touching the pale, room-temperature flesh reminded her that her sisters… her friends… were dead.
The cockroach finally requested assistance in moving the bodies, and Gina rose, giving a garbled, “Sure.”
Her voice was husky with contained emotion, but it was better to bury the two of them then to leave them in the open.
“How do we… want to do this?” Gina inquired. She’d buried her fair share of deceased, usually those who fell while defending the town, or those who had died of natural, health-related causes. It had never been someone the gargoyle had known, though. Never someone important to her. Her brain refused to remember how such a normative task was done.