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.
The look on the oafish swordsman's face when the woman reached for his belt was embarassingly sinful. He earned the look of surprise the came as she then flung him off into the distance. However, he victory would be short lived.
Now that the bigger Raijin was not in the way, the father was able to see her face when he looked back. He knew her. Grace. Perhaps not so graceful, though. A demon in disguise the whole time. Any to think, he almost let her into the flock. Underneath his mask his face twisted into a look of disgust. SINNER! LIAR! DEMON!
He found himself walking toward her as she watched Raijin fly off. By the time she turned back, he was nearly upon her, his gloved hand reaching out to grasp at her throat.
"I wonder, then... What is your name?"
Masked featured peered into her very soul for a long moment, before he growled. If only he'd prepared for a second baptism. For now, if he killed her, he would only send her back to hell. It would not be god's work.
"One day, you will burn for your transgressions, child. Wait patiently until then."
His other hand closed into a fist, and he released his hold, only to send a decisive blow toward her already frail and beaten form.
By the time Raijin returned from his absence, the girl would be out, and the priest would be gone.
The vulgar Samurai was trying his patience; he was lucky the priest had it in spades. He continued his prayer as he focused on the matter at hand. This demon was known to be punctual, if nothing else; they likey had moments until he passed over the alley. If they were lucky, he would even turn down this way, as he sometimes did. Bad luck with see him across the street, which meant sprinting more out into the open. Bloody Tash was ready, and able to act on all of those scenarios.
A quick, chirping whistle told him that the best case scenario had taken place.
Raijin leaned off the wall as if to move in, but was cut off with a stiff armed gestured from the priest.
The masked and cowled figure stepped forward, speaking as soon as the demon rounded the corner and let out his huh? before bolstering himself as they'd predicted. "Demon, you are steepedin sin, and have spoken untruth, claiming credit for the deeds of the righteous in order to live in greater sin. For this, I, acting through the grace of the lord, will clense thy sin through flame!"
"W- Wha?" He'd been too distracted by Raijin's swords, Azar only had time to widen his eyes before Tash ran his sparking glove across the rough surface placed on his oppsite arm, creating the shower of sparks that lit the molotov cocktail in his hand in the same motion he used to fling it directly into the oxygen manipulator's face. At the same time, three whistles rang out, telling them someone was headed their way.
What followed... wasn't pleasant. Azar was known to increase the oxygen density around himself in order to produce a euphoric, energized effect in himself. It played to his demise feircely, as the oxygen thick air ignited in a flash before the bottle even hit its target, and his face was nearly incinerated as a gout of flames flew from his mouth. Letting out a rasping scream that almost sounded inhuman, the mutant turned and blindly tried to flee from the alleyway, even while covered in feircly burning fire.
Raijin stepped back a bit, whistling as he lowered his glasses to watch the brutal scene play out just outside of the alley.
Tash ignored him, speaking his partin prayer. "Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace."
He turned to head toward his escape route further down the alley.
"You shouldn't be here... Your presence casts a shadow on this holy work. Witchcraft." The last word found its way out with a tone of disgust thick enough to be obvious even through the damaged vocal chords of the priest. "No time to argue now... You are only to intercede if it's absolutely necessary, do you understand?"
Father McCallen's jaw clenched a few more times as he pulled his facemask up, and drew up his hood. The vocal distorter he used kicked on as he blocked out the unwanted addition to his holy work, and got to preparing his cleansing fire.
"And, being assembled together with them, commanded them that they should not depart from Jerusalem, but wait for the promise of the Father, which, saith he, ye have heard of me." The smell of gasoline, or something similar, filled the alleyway as he filled the bottle with practiced ease. "For John truly baptized with water; but ye shall be baptized with the Holy Ghost not many days hence...."
He tried to ignore the words of the other man in the alley as he finished his preparation, and awaited the signal that their target was nearing the alley, speaking any prayer that came to mind as he did, clutching the cocktail carefully in his hand, ready to light.
"...Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit."
There was that long moment of apprehension. The one the made a second stretch into decades as the typically relaxed, and always one hundred percent certain man wondered if he'd overstepped his bounds. There were other ways to make sure young Eisley could attend the church more. Honestly, she was nearly and adult, capable of making that legal decision on her own. He'd just thought that perhaps she might want this as much as he.
Was he wrong?
His eyes opened a little bit wider as she responded, and he felt a smile forming, one wide enough to make his scars hurt. He ignored the pain, though, as it was only affirmation of the joy he felt at her reply. He moved to step forward as he noticed her tears, but she was one step again, flinging herself into a big hug. He smiled, and leaned down to hug her as well. Not the friendly embrace he often gave his followers, and even the flock.... no, this was the loving embrace of a father, hugging his daughter as tight as he could.
After a moment he pulled them apart, and held her at shoulder length. "Thank you, my daughter... I am so happy to have found you, and proud of the young woman you have become... Now... no more tears! There is much that must be done." He wiped her cheek with his thumb as he spoke, turning to the paperwork, and fishing out a pen.
All she needed to do now was sign on the dotted line.
"Well, It's pretty simple, isn't it? I already view myself as your father, Eisley. This would make it official. Let you spend more time here, so you don't have to be with your father anymore. I would be your father."
The money that would come after they removed her father was also a benefit, but he spoke the truth. He'd wanted to do this for some time, but hadn't seen an opportunity present itself until now. She belonged here. With him. More than just the help she provided, her caring heart, and devotion. Her willingness to learn. He viewed her as his daughter in the purest sense of the word.
This paperwork would simply make it so the law saw things the same way. Again... if she wanted it.
Eisley got right down to business. He knew from their many talks that she had more or less grown up on these streets. He knew a little bit of what she was saying. Their target tended to stick to the parts of town where there was a fair share of criminal activity. He was a lowlife, after all. Still, further clarification had him nodding, and scribbling down notes. She had a plan in place already, though, so he visibly relaxed as she started explaining what she would change.
"Good. Good. I knew I could depend on you." He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a little squeeze before patting it and turning away, pausing to look back when she explained a much more effective escape route. "Yes! That's perfect! You'll have to show it to me in the morning so I can make sure I'm comfortable with the route..."
He smiled and nodded, shifting on his feet a bit before pulling the papers he'd sorta been tucking away, and looking down at them for a few beats.
"Eisley... I... I had a thought. I know we talked a bit about some details when it came to your future. There is still the issue of your father, and grandfather, even after your excellent work in Portugal... Ahem." He was stiff. He tugged at his collar a little bit before nodding to himself.
"So... I talked to your father... Today. About... The... Possibility." He set the papers down before her. "Of him... transferring custody... I would be... Adopting you." He presented the paperwork, and allowed her a moment to read if she wanted. "Only if you wished it. He only agreed on the terms of you gifting him the resources you gathered in Portugal, but I worked in some terms that had them returning to you should he pass on." The second half of that came out a bit rushed, as if he'd pushed the conversation up a hill, and then let it all sort of roll down after he got past the part that made him nervous.
Once he had nothing left to say, the old preacher had nothing left to do but look at the young woman expectantly. He knew that her heart was with the church, and her father had always given some pushback, but... He knew he was a better father figure to her than that fool of a man had been. She would be in much better hands... if she wanted to be.
As he was beginning to gather everything up when he saw Eisley walking up. "Ah, I had been hoping to speak with you. You absolutely may." He waved a hand to invite her to sit at the table. Meanwhile, he paused for a short second. It may seem odd to Eisley, as he wasn't the type to seem at a loss, but here he was, hesitating.
She offered her thoughts, though, and he gladly accepted them. "Yes, yes! About the plans, of course. Your input is always valued." He held a small stack of papers in his hand, though tucked away just behind his back as he leaned in to look down at his plans, thankful for the distractions.
Was it hot in this basement? He was sweating a little bit. "You know the streets... Did you see something I didn't?" His raspy voice was as open and balanced as it could be; he wasn't the type to be offended when others challenged his plans, but rather he embraced any improvements those informed could offer. Also, it allowed him a little more room to ease into other manners. He glanced up at the door to ensure the others had left. This was a little more of a private conversation to have...
"Good, now that we are all here." As the door shut behind Eisley, the father smiled, and glanced about the room to count the faces of the loyal. All people he trusted implicitly.
"Tomorrow, we cleanse the soul of another wicked demon." He laid out the plans, carefully researched notes on behaviors, sins, and schedules. This was everything they needed to catch their target out in the open and vulnerable to attack. Everyone here knew the drill as well, but he confirmed roles one by one.
"Chance, lookout on the east side. Placement... here. Mary, canvassing. Douglas, West lookout, here. Eisley, you'll be leading the canvassers this time." He spoke it simply, but it was the first time he'd given her that role. It was an important one. Putting it in her hands was a sign that he felt she was ready for it.
Over the next few minutes he finished giving everyone their roles, and went over plan B scenarios.
Soon, everyone was bid to disperse to their preparations and rest, leaving the father there to reflect in a quickly emptying room.
"-And so it shall be, then... I'll have the papers drafted up and sent your way as soon as I am able. Thank you, Gerik." Smiling eyes glanced into the pews to catch sight of his lost sheep returned home. He knew what they had planned, but the sense of relief to see that everything had fallen into place was indeed great.
"Look. As long as the estate is transferred to my name, you can do what ever you want with her. I'll sign it." Her father in the biological sense spoke with his typical lack of tact, layered with confidence and bravado that almost forced bile to raise at the back of one's throat. If the priest did feel such unpleasantness, though, he didn't show it.
"Yes... There is the matter of getting her to approve... I think I can handle that, though, my son." He reached over to pat the man on the side of the arm, and was brushed off. Letting te whitegloved hand fall to his side, the father smiled softly even as the man he talked to replied sharply.
"I'm not your son. And with this out of the way, I think you'll be seeing me a lot less often. Have a nice day, padre." Father McCallan gave him a simple bow, and allowed him to wander off before turning and making his way to the pew. He had a few moments before the sermon was set to start, and he had something he simly must do.
Stopping near the front, where the young, now Miss Castello, sat, he smiled, and stepped forward to wrap her in a warm embrace. "Welcome back, my daughter!" He smiled as he whispered in her good ear. "Everything is in place... Thank you for staying strong." He released her to give her a once over. "I am sorry for your loss... May you find solace in this house of the lord." A quick nod, and an affectionate pat on the shoulder later, and he turned to head to the altar.
This sermon was about the resurrection, and how faith through loss is the strongest form of belief. How in these trying times such faith is more important than ever.
After he was done, he would head down toward a familiar dimly lit room, and await her arrival among a handful of other true sheep. They had much catching up to do, after all.
This wasn't exactly how confessionals worked, mind you. One catalogued their sins, and shames, not the sins done upon them. Still, he'd felt it pertinent to give her privacy in order to hear her out.
It was stunning. To this day, the stories of those wronged by the demons still seized his chest, and filled him with a brimming disgust that he had to remind himself of his compassion. This relative of hers. He had hurt her. She didn't outright say it, but he could tell. Her family had a snake in its midsts, and she was helpless to defend from it.
"Thank you for your confession, my child. I find you free of sin, and thus are not in need of recompense. I ask only that you try to stay strong, and trust in the lord to free you from this pain." And the lord would.
The plan started to crystalize. Cleanse the wicked relative. Freed from the burden of this pain, she would return to the flock knowing the lord had done his work. Make her a trusted sheep. She would be another boon to the cause.
All in due time. "Until then, do what you must to stay safe."
His heart genuinely ached for this poor girl. He could tell that within her lie a well of pain. He looked about for a quick moment, and then took a seat next to her, careful not to invade her space, but also close enough to let her know he was there. Really... there.
"When I was a young man, I was sent to a catholic school... The mother superior there told me, during punishment, that love... is fear. Needless to say, I wasn't catholic again until I was an adult." It was a dry joke, but there it was. He looked at her for a long moment, and stated firmly. "There are times when it is impossible. God will not ask you, or anyone to be more than human. If the voice in your heart finds it impossible to forgive, instead, leave the fate of the wicked in the hands of god."
He turned toward the confessional booth, and then looked back toward her. "Words spoken can be a weight off of the soul. If you would like, we can talk in confidentiality, in the presence of the lord." It made sense. She didn't feel safe around mutants. She hated, and feared someone. A demon, perhaps? If he had the details, he could be the divine intervention she so desperately needed.
His eyes lingered in her own for a moment, as if he were searching for something as he replied softly. "For some, it is. Of course, I ask that you veiw me as a person first... I am only an ear for the lord within the booth." He referred to the confessions.
That stated, he watched as she continued, picking up the signs of nervousness. Tension. Still, she admirably pushed her way through it, and spoke up. She asked about hate. He remained silent while she finished the question.
"My child... I cannot say that hate is an unnatural emotion. I could simply stand here and tell you not to. That wouldn't be an honest response, though, and to lie is to sin. I will say that I was once a young man filled with hate, and I never found enlightenment with that hate in me. It wasn't until I chose to replace the hate with compassion that I found my soul free of burden. That is a difficult thing to do, though. To feel hate for the wicked is also natural. To feel compassion for the wicked where you once felt hate is to find hope to guide two to the light." He paused in his musings as if in thought, and decided to speak one more line. "I will say, it is possible to feel compassion for the wicked, and still do what must be done to save others from pain."
The father kindly grabbed up her complement as she gave it, and set it gently to the side, explaining in a gracious tone. "It is the lord who has a way with words, my child, I only speak those same words in order to connect more people with them.
He watched her for a moment longer. She was rather meek, sitting there in hand me down clothes, bare of makeup, quiet as a churchmouse. Almost too ideal as a potential member of the flock. Unassuming was the way to be when doing the lord's true work. He himself didn't fit those parameters very well, so he had to make up for it in other ways.
She? She did. He wondered if her and Eisley would get along. "Grace, pardon me if I am assuming too much, but you've come a second time, to my sermons, and I can't help but feel as though I am starting to get the sense that you are a little lost yourself. Tell me, my child... Is there anything you need to get off your chest? Anything I, and the lord, can help you with?"
For the busy father of the flock, a week passed in a flash. Services, schooling, sermons and so much more kept him busy. Still, as she walked in, the Priest looked up from his conversation, and smiled, waving to the returning visitor.
Before long, he circled back to her, and approached with a nod. "Grace, wonderful to see you again. I hope your week was good to you."
He waved to another person as they walked in, and turned back to her. "We have an amazing sermon prepared today. Be sure to get a good seat." He smiled warmly, and turned to wrap up the last few greetings before the sermon.
Today, it was about the importance of reaching out for help. It was easy to find yourself lost in the day, the week, in life. Look to god for guidance, and look for god in those good hearts around you. Grow god in yourself, and you will always guide yourself true. Until then... Don't be afraid to ask for help.
He was doing his usual, answering questions about the sermon, schmoozing the pockets, and guiding the more devoted of the flock at the end when he spotted the second time visitor again, and took a moment to circle back. "Young Ms.Smith, how did you like the sermon?"
He turned to watch her as she talked, a sad recognition in his eyes as he realized he was talking about her time on the streets. It must have been hard for a little girl out there, all alone. "I like puzzles too. And you know, I learned to appreciate more complicated things when I approached them as puzzles. I could show you how to do that, too."
A satisfied nod came to him as she confirmed his suspicions about her knowledge of historical codes of ethics. "Hammurabi was a great ruler of old, who is known for a set of laws he assembled... A system of fairness, from which moderns laws are descendant. An eye for an eye... A tooth for a tooth. When something is taken or broken, so too must an equal price be exacted. If someone attacks you, and takes out your eye. By the code you would be owed their eye. It got more complicated than that, too. Say... you built a house for someone, but you did a bad job, and it collapsed and killed their son. They would then be allowed to kill your son if they deemed fit. An equal, but cruel trade."
Softly, he set down the book he'd been clutching to his heart, placing it on the tabletop next to the water tank before turning to walk over the young woman and help her clean up. "Time is short today. I'll help you clean up... I have important business to tend to tonight." It was nearing the time for the final observations on their next target. They had his patterns down solidly, and he was supposed to leave the city soon. They needed to strike within the next few days.
