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.
She was studious or a girl her age. Devout, and completely bereft of the rebellious nature most teenagers presented at her age. Still, her education was years behind, and her emotional maturity somewhat stunted. He didn't see these things as her fault, though; it was a product of her life. The failure of her father and the cruel streets of this city had taken its toll on her. Still, there was potential. She wasn't unintelligent, just uneducated.
He gave a small, kind smile as she responded. "Very good." He turned and patted her shoulder warmly before flipping the page in the good book to one of his marked passages. The gun was a assembled neatly once more. "You really are a natural with such things... Do you like puzzles, Eisley?"
He closed the book in his hand, and placed it against his heart as he paced toward the other end of the room, at a tank of water with a small container in it. "Tell me, my child... Have you heard of Hammurabi's code?"
He was fairly certain he knew the answer to the question, but asked nonetheless.
The faint bubbling of water circulating in the small white phosphorus storage tank could be heard in the background in this corner of the basement. It was oddly comforting to him. A tool that could be used on those who seemed to somehow survive even after doused in flame whilst in his holy Aura.
It was late. Such was true to the nature of what was at hand. This was, after all, a secret. Their little secret.
The father paced through the dimly lit room, hands clasped behind his back as he recited meaningful lines of scripture, explaining them. Asking questions. Imparting knowledge. He'd worked hard to convince her father that she would benefit from occasionally staying at the church mission on weekends to help with charity projects and attend her Sunday lessons. While all of that did, indeed happen, he'd also seen fit to invite her into the fold; his true flock. It hadn't taken long for the impressionable child to become his favorite follower.
She truly was moldable like clay. From where he'd found her, she could have become anything. He knew just what he needed.
A Warrior.
"Do not say, I’ll pay you back for this wrong. Wait for the Lord, and he will avenge you." He paused for a moment. "Through charity, we do the work of the lord, and through the purging of demons, we do the same... In that way, we work to be the avengers for the lord, and those harmed by these demons..." His raspy voice spoke loud enough for her to hear, determined to clearly pronounce every syllable.
He looked down from his musings to the young woman, cleaning her Walther CCP, a gift from him to her. It had to stay here, of course; her family would freak out if they knew about this. They didn't matter, though. They consorted with Demons, and even wished to sacrifice their pure, innocent child to one. A sham marriage... for power. She was just a girl... He paused for a moment as she placed the separated slide to the side, reaching out to tap her shoulder once, twice, three, four times. Four shots.
"Using your Walther. How many rounds remain?"
He reached back to the bible splayed out in his other hand, and turned the page, reading through for inspiration for his next sermon, or for valuable lessons for the young woman.
“For behold, the day is coming, burning like a furnace; and all the arrogant and every evildoer will be chaff;" The sound of something splashing into a liquid, and lifting out could be heard. The smell of gasoline, tucked deep into an alley in the city. Black gloves prevented the dripping liquid from soaking into the skin of the hand holding the freshly wetted wick. The gritty voice muttered to itself as the speaker toiled away.
"and the day that is coming will set them ablaze, says the Lord of hosts, so that it will leave them neither root nor branch. But for you who fear My name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings;" The bottle was set to the side, fully prepared as the masked figure glanced at a pocket watch, nodding and clicking it closed as he recited further. The act was prayer, but the words themselves, were also important.
"and you will go forth and skip about like calves from the stall. You will tread down the wicked, for they will be ashes under the soles of your feet on the day which I am preparing, says the Lord of hosts" It was time. His people would be blocking the street from either side. There wouldn't be many witnesses. His escape route was well planned, and his planted distractions would also serve as false witnesses.
The only sign that something was off would be a sudden shifting toward a humanoid form again as the woman neared the alleyway entrance. He could hear the cart approaching. It was, indeed, time.
The cart stopped, a sign that she was reacting to being in his holy aura. He grabbed the bottle from the alleyway floor, and quickly stepped out. In one smooth motion he ran the back of his hand, with a steel bladed plate on it, against a rod attached to his wrist. Heated sparks sprayed out, and the wick capping the bottle immediately ignited. In that same movement he flicked the lit bottle underhand right at the wicked woman's face.
The shattering of glass would be heard, quickly followed by the whooshing of flames, and the smell of burning flesh.
He maintained the innocent smile on his scarred face as he watched her expression closely. There truly was no recognition on her face. She apologized if she came off as immature. She did. It was a perversion of his gift that she enjoyed to be around it. He kept smiling.
"I apologize that I often find myself with little spare time, or I would offer my presence in the future." She mused forlornly about how she may have been in a different life. He saw her for the creature of envy she was, speaking the word of god but coveting the humanity that he and his kind had. He decided then and there what he would do.
"Indeed."
He gave her a brief wave, his white gloved hands, and turned his attention to the vase for a moment as she spoke up one last time. An offer to reach out should he reconsider. No chance. He reached out to pluck the card from the vase, nodding, and speaking out. "Thank you, Ms. Gordon. Be safe out there."
He turned away, making eye contact with a young woman from across the church, who was staring right back at him already. Good. He had some planning do to, and it seemed as though his newest acolyte might just be ready to act for the cause.
He watched with some small surprise as she transformed as he drew near. It bore him but a moment's pause, as somewhere deep he lamented the shame that such a beauty was so cursed to be the snake that it truly was. He approached further, his eyes wideneding a bit as it dawned on him.
Here she was, celebrating his gift from god, elated, and not on an inch of her face as a mark of recognition. She had no idea who he was. She even called him by his real last name, not the one he'd used when she was a part of his plans to punish her kind. Before the holy flame had clensed him. He cheated his more damaged side toward her to keep up the lack of recognition... Of course... He had changed so much, why should she recognise him?
"It is a gift from god, my child... I thank you for your fascination. I do, indeed, have much passion for what I do. Thank you for the fruit spread."
He tilted his head a bit, and rested his gloved hands on his bible once more. "Ah. Well, I must admit now that this church is entirely self funding. While we do have our... more generous donors, most of us chip in for our own share as well." He smiled kindly.
"I think your money may be best served with those who are struggling." He nodded firmly. "I thank you, though, for your group's kind offer." I'll not take your tainted money, thank you. In fact...
Yes.
He decided then and there, that she was going to be the next hunt. They had been sticking to the less noticable, but why not go for a more high profile target?
"Perhaps, though, we can keep in contact via E-mail should a need arise?"
She was talking to young Eisley's father. Interesting. When had he started consorting with such people? No doubt a biproduct of their attempts to appear more charitable and productive members of society. Even so, he made his way to the senior Mr. Levonyan to check in, and glean any details he could.
It appeared the elder also disapproved of the conversation, as he expressed as the both glanced his way. The pastor was quick to turn his back toward the woman, though. Her presence lent him a rare sense of unease. She may be a thread one could tug on to unravel all that he'd worked so hard to build here ever since the... flame, and the gift that god had given him. Soon the son was approaching as well.
The man set the basket down on the table before the father, who looked down at it as Garik muttered under his breath. "The snake comes bearing fruit..." A smile came to his mutilated features, and he reached out, placing a hand on the other man's shoulder, before patting it, and turning to walk toward the waiting woman.
Best to get this out of the way. "Greetings, Ms. Gordon. I must say, I was surprised to see your E-mail... I hope our service was enlightening to you." What did he have on her... how could he prevent her from exposing him? Surely she was here to threaten him, or at least try to find out why he was here.
He still wasn't sure how she'd figured him out, either. How many knew? Could he burn them all with righteous flame in order to continue his crusade? He smiled softly as these thoughts raced through his head as he drew nearer to her.
It was a long assumption, that all would go well. Still, as far as low hanging fruit was concerned, the sheep upon their doorstep was a more concerning one. More a snake in sheeps clothing. One that might be just as dangerous to he and his ilk. He knew her. She'd known him, in what felt like a past life.
This encounter would be difficult, he'd mused quietly during his sermon planning as he read the innocent little E-mail. He'd considered cancelling service, but had decided against it. He would not hide from this snake. Those close to him were aware of her impending presence; he'd allowed to impending meeting to inform his sermon. Indeed, as she entered he was speaking to his flock to bolster them against the wicked of the world.
His grating voice rang out to the attentive crowd, "Behold, I am sending you out like sheep among wolves; therefore be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves." He spoke to them, quoting Matthew 10:16 before closing his book, and scanning the crowd. "The world will bring us all challenges. Encounter the impure with peace in your heart, and the wherewithal to do the most good. I trust that you all will do what is right when given the choice... And if you find the pressure ever too great, and find yourself in lapse... Well, there's always confession." This drew a small chuckle from the congregation as he folded his arms in front of his waist, one hands still clutching the well worn bible with countless bookmarked pages in it. "Thank you. We will return after a short break for open prayer. Do be sure to think of a few things to thank the lord for as we pass around collections."
There was some small confusion in the front row as they broke during service; it wasn't wholly abormal to do so, but more often he was the type to push through without breaks.
He'd spotted her, though. Standing in the back of the room. As the crowd started to stand in order to head toward restrooms and leg stretchings, he eyed a young one of the faithful clenching his fists and stepping toward the woman. He was quick to intercept, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder and smiling kindly. "No need to fret, my son. Toss not a stone when the other cheek can be applied." He winked his good eye, and turned to head toward the woman.
It seemed, however, that she had caught the attention of another...
She was elusive... Perhaps it was some sort of guilt that wracked her mind. The guilt of a survivor of something wicked. He knew it. He was a catholic priest, within this very system there were many who had been affected by such things. When he'd arrived here, he had become privy to one such offender at this very locale. He'd hid the man's body at the bottom of the staircase to the basement in a small box.
His assessment was, of course, conjecture, but he was rarely wrong about people. She was a victim. A victim of a mutant. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and his clear eye made direct visual contact with her own. Over the bridge between their souls he sent her a look of understanding.
And then the moment was over, and he smiled widely. "Excellent, young Ms. Smith. I look forward to seeing you soon. Now, if you will forgive me, I must tend to the rest of my flock. Good day to you." He stood once more, and gave her a slight bow, walking off to address someone who was already waiting for his input on some inane subject.
He addressed it quickly, and then engaged in exuberant conversation with a younger teenage girl with an old wound on her ear that had left it damaged. Soon, the young woman that had visited was tucked into the mental database under 'revisit this later.' He was, after all, a busy man.
Ah. There it was. The father motioned a hand out to the seat next to her to allow her to scoot over so he could sit in the long bench aside her.
Normal, was an interesting question. Of course, that could refer to anyone, right? Then again, as far as most were concerned, he didn't look normal. Some notated the color of ones skin to denote some normalcy. His service was multi cultural, without a doubt. No, she was referring to something very specific.
Rather than ask, though, he let the silence and proximity speak for him, maintaining the same kind, open, almost smiling expression as he listened.
"I'm sorry for any such experiences. The topic of mutant kind is a complex one; Mutants themselves range from peaceful to violent, just as humans do, the major difference being the affect one mutant can have when compared to a human..." It was a diplomatic answer. It might not be the one she wanted, but it was important to start small and feed the flame further over time, even if they came to you with concurrent thoughts. He waited for a moment to gauge her reaction before speaking up again. "Grace, I want you to attend more services here. I can tell you that this is church is a safe place. Would you agree to attend next week?"
He shifted in the seat, turning toward her a little as he awaited her response.
As the young lady yumped, Father McCallan smiled mirthfully "Usually I don't have that affect on people; they tend to notice me coming from a good distance. It's a nice change of pace, I would say."
He folded his gloved hands upon each other on the back of the pew bench of the row she sat in, his expression mostly pleasant and passive as he listened to her linkage of his speech to events in her life. Ah, his sermon had gone well, then. A well executed sermon found a special, unique way to resonate with everyone in the service. "You'll have to tell me more some time, if you should find this humble service to your liking, that is."
He stood upright again as she took on a more nervous aire and asked to ask a question. He gave a serene smile in response, and nodded. "Yes, my child. Ask away, and I will do my best to provide a good answer." There were many controversial questions in regards to religion. Many of them didn't have answers at all. Odd, though, she hadn't struck him as the type to have such burning philosophical woes. No, she seemed a tad too meek for that.
What was it then, that plagued her mind to make her so ill at ease?
Father McCallan had a tendency to look for certain behaviors when meeting new people. It was, after all, a sick world, infested with demons. One had to be sure the behaviors of those he planned to associate with were becoming of one free of the affliction, or allies of those. For example. She hadn't seen his face before, and thus she didn't know him.
The tell was obvious. She looked at his scars, looked away, looked back again for a moment, and then tried not to stare as he introduced himself. This was common for someone who wasn't expecting him to look how he did. Meek, even. He did so like the meek, blessed as they were.
"Grace. What a splendid name. I welcome you join in and learn more about our humble church. I hope we measure well to the other, more splendorous houses of god in the city. We tend to spend more of the budget on charity, ourselves."
She was a pretty young girl... Alone in the city, perhaps? Not many ties? Perhaps a prospect for the inner flock; such people were often looking for something to belong to, and saving them from some witless cause for a righteous one was the highest form of god's work.
"Worry not, child. It is simply a pleasure that you have found the light of the lord at your age. Do, please, find a good seat. I will find you after to see if you have any questions."
He pointed her to a seat toward the front. He wanted to keep an eye on her.
From there, the service would begin. Today's sermon was on temptation. The snake in the garden of eden. It was so that the snake was the true introduction of sin to Eve. Temptation and sin went hand in hand, and always there were snakes to bring such things to them. He stressed the importance of finding the snakes in your life, be they people who lead you astray, or behaviors, situations, advertisements. Know them when you see them, and then you will be able to fight them.
More of the standard service continued, and everything wrapped up after comunion. He remembered the new girl he'd met, and circled back to try and catch her before she left. "Ah! Grace, was it? Did you enjoy the service?" He watched her for those behaviors once more... Would she politely lie and try to leave, or did his sermon ring true to her?
Good. It was going well. You see, he'd had a feeling about her home situation. Her father was, after all, a sinner. A sinner for the cause was still a sinner. Best to be used for their skills and status and thrown away at the right time. An innocent, however, like this girl... They could be a true member of the flock.
She just needed a careful guiding hand.
His eyebrow, what was left of it, raised a bit at her mentioning her father finding her. Strange. She didn't have a home. Realization struck him. Yes... That made sense. She was a bastard child. His son had passed, after all. He must have been desperate for heirs. It would have made him laugh if she wasn't the unfortunate fool he'd chosen. Still, he tucked this information away as possible ammunition for later.
"Stealing is a sin, Eisley... But our lord preaches forgiveness. I assure you if you keep faith your actions will be forgiven. This... Thomas, and Super Saph you speak of... I would be wary of such beings. They are not what they seem." Mutants. Demons in the skin of mostly human DNA.
It sickened him, but he kept a warm smile for her sake. "I do not think you are a bad person, nor were you. You were just in the wrong place, with the wrong people... But here you are now."
"Exactly, Eisley! You're a bright one." She wasn't, but telling someone that enough could make it feel true. He sat up tall as she showed her appreciation at his words, and placed his hands on his knees as she gave him a tour of her creation.
"Ah, yes, I recognised the lord." He smiled at Mr. Unicorn. Wasn't a unicorn without a horn just a horse? Better not to ruin her flight of fancy, though. The nuns were a good touch.
And then... Super... Saph. His eyes lingered. They stopped on the green man with the alien looking head as well. Troubling. "These are people you've met?" He had a hint of very ovbious worry to his voice. Always give the negative a negative connotation. Start small, and work your way up. That was how you taught someone the way.
The preists smile was genuine he saw her reaction to him walking into the room. Charming, wasn't she? His eyes wandered down to her drawings, causing a snicker to ring out against his will. Very charming. As she spoke he was attentive. He leaned toward her good ear as he talked in response.
"I like the stories very much as well... They are more than that, though. They are moral lessons. D'you know what that means?"
He gave her a short nod. He saw her looking at the pencil. "Draw to your heart's content, my child." He shifted into a more comfortable position, taking a seat on the edge of the desk near her as she spoke her concerns.
The scarred man rubbed his chin a bit, and nodded. "I'll have the sister seat you closer to the front so you can hear better... And don't worry so about the kids. You are new, and different. I too, was new and different when I first came here. Look at me now. It's not about that they think now, it's about what you do while you are here. In the eyes of god, all humans are judged equally."
He squinted a bit at her attempts at spelling words. Interesting. At 14 years of age, she seemed to be rather far behind in her studies. He found himself making plans to fix that in spite of himself. Hm... Yes, this girl had a sway about her, didn't she? A sort of human magnetism. It was hard to dislike her, and that... was valuable if used right.
With her as a tool, god's work would be better for it.
He noticed her as soon as she walked into the room. She was a new face, after all, and he was the type to know well the faces of all of his flock. His eyes moved from the person he was conversing with for a moment to look over at the figure before the closing door. She seemed normal enough... A young woman, alone, walking into a somewhat obscure church in down town New York.
There were many explanations for why a person who was a combination of such things would arrive at this doorstep. No need to suspect anything just yet, even though it was in his nature to be supicious. He started by placing a hand on the shoulder of the older man he was talking to, and politely pulling away from the conversation, with his blessings. He meandered off to the side, beginning his standard set of observations He would be sure to strafe past her at the 10 ft range he'd measured out, to see if she reacted to touching the edhe of his field in any way. This was a great way to check and see if someone was a demon in disguise. Many, when their abilities were curtailed, showed telltale reactions to it.
After he completed that, he would circle back, and move to greet her, letting out a kindly. "Oh, hello... I didn't see you there. Are you new to the service? I am the head priest here, Father McCallan. My sermon will be starting soon if you wish to sit in."
