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.
59 minutes exactly. What did it mean? Just under an hour. Maybe... Yes, a measured response. I will not wait a full hour to respond, or you might be lulled into thinking your position is secure. It was a delayed quick attack. Tactically, brilliant.
And that, to say she was busy. A strong combination. He thought of what to reply with for some time, before he got a text asking what he was up to.
. . .
She was trying to find out were he was, wasn't she? Telling her what he was doing would likely give away his location! He wiped his blade on the shirt of the nearest dead body, before sheathing his weapon and walking out of the gang hideout he'd been tasked on clearing out.
<Laundry. And you?> A safe response. He could be doing laundry at any one of hundreds of mats in the city. He wondered what she could be doing right now. Was she inbetween conquests? Maybe she lay with a man right now, blade tucked in behind her lingerie, ready to strike when her prey lowered his or her guard. The thought got him all riled up.
Four days. It had been four days. She was truly skilled. Wait four days to grow his anticipation, and then treat him like he wasn't the most memorable person on the planet. He had to meter his response perfectly, if he was to survive.
What, then, could he say? Did he come on strong, with a rebuttal? Proclaim her faux ignorance a ruse, and state that he, and he alone would best her in her deadly game? Maybe he could list the prominent figures he'd bested in mortal combat?
He settled on the profound statement.
<Lol, it's Raijin.> A tactical move. Don't let her know you are falling into her trap. Play coy, and attack when she least expects it.
The text would come with little context. The Samurai had honestly spend some time considering what to send on his little technological device. The femme fatale he was reaching out to was a dangerous woman. He'd considered many approaches in response to her stature... An explanation of his physical prowess? Too direct. A list of the prominent figures he'd bested in mortal combat? Too desperate. A @#$% pick? No, apparently that wasn't nearly as enticing as common sense might make one think
He'd read a few articles on it, stressed for a few nights, given up on it, and finally laid down at 6pm, in a certain tall woman's bed, and just simply sent out the one word that he'd been told was a sufficient greeting for Americans.
She explained further, and now that she pointed it out... it was readily apparent that her more human like form was not breathing. It did not have a pulse. It was like the Geisha, maybe. Unreal. "Useful." What could he say? She was 100% Nekomata.
She was also... Very much youthful. A child, in many ways. A monster in development. "I, too, live for the fights that are a challenge..." Another rain drop hit him. Annoying, though he didn't much mind getting wet.
And then she pointed out his writings, and his eye twitched. "@#$^." He suddenly turned and started full on sprinting through the park. "KSSUUUUUUU!" Those writings were hundreds of years old. His new spell had just dried! DAMNIT!
He ended up swooping in just in time as the rain picked up, gathering up papers frantically as he vowed to merc the weather man first chance he got.
"Yes. This one has been saved from an easy death on another occasion by myself. I feel he is destined to suffer, and will deliver such a fate to him because of this." It was so nice to be able to express himself completely with language. He stood over the man, staring down for a long moment. He would be crippled, but he would live.
He had the distinct feeling this would not stop him from repeating his same pattern. Raijin would check up on him again in a week or so. Maybe a foot next time? It would be funny to see him hobbling around after women with half of a hand. He smirked at the thought, and turned to wander back toward the trail, finally catching sight of her new form. "Nani?!" He stared for a long moment before reaching out slowly to poke her.
"This is you, Neko-chan?" His eyes caught the two swishing tails, and he nodded. "I see. Your flesh can change as well!" He paused for a second... Something was off about her... what was it? Anyway, she was clearly disappointed.
"You wish to see other prey, Neko-Chan?" He finished cleaning his blade, and sheathed it slowly, looking over to her expectantly. A single drop of rain fell on his shoulder.
They got the Geisha in top fishing shape, and Raijin nodded. "Perfect." He watched as she hopped down from him, and followed from a distance as well. He had to be within a certain range to use his spell, after all.
It wasn't long before he heard a familiar voice. Oh, right, he'd meant to circle back to this guy at some point. He walked over to a nearby tree, peeking around it as the man approached. Yep, it was the bush bandit. That same guy. Oh, right, he would have to call An-Chan some time soon! He reminded himself as he watched for a moment longer.
She was luring him to a less visible spot. He glanced down to the cat. It made sense that she knew what she was doing. She was a Nekomata, after all. Doug followed, blind to his impending fate, as the Geisha had already begun to shift her features. He almost clapped. Man, that was amazing. He didn't even wait for the scream stuck in the man's throat to echo out to act.
Drawing his sigil, the flung his weapon, which stuck in the ground at the man's feet. He only had a moment to look down at it in confusion before the Ronin appeared grasping the blade in a crackle of blue light.
WHOOSH! "AIIIEEEE-HNG! Four fingers flipped through the air as the short blade was swept up in a smooth motion, before a fist impacted heavily with the reeling man's face, sending him ass over teakettle. "Hah hah hah! Amazing! Leave this one alive... He frequents this place, and I plan to torment him further!" He stepped a finger into the soft ground and squished it aggressively. Wouldn't want them getting sewn back on! That was not how we learned lessons!
He didn't look her way, as it was easy enough to speak to someone on your shoulder without twisting your head their way. It was strange, though, as an old, wise creature, this being seemed rather youthful and inspired. A mythical creature in the making. Full of potential. While it was odd to consider oneself a senior to such a being, she seemed to treat him as such, and he would not complain.
It made him feel pretty badass.
"Good! Become a Yokai even the gods shy away from, little Neko-Chan!" He grinned widely, and waited for her to do her work. His eyebrows lifted as he watched the Geisha form before him. She was the very picture of the ideal for his homeland. He had admittedly developed more Americanized tastes during his stay here. She asked him what he thought, even called him Sama.
"Mm... Impressive. Americans tend to go for... Larger chests, More plump lips... A bigger rear." He nodded as he watched her work, staring intently as she did.
This was amazing. He reminded himself that when creatures like this made something like this, it was meant to be a death trap. He would not be sleeping with this geisha. Still... Nice to look at. "I think that does it... Now to put the bait out."
She took him up on his offer of the shoulder, and got incredibly comfortable quite quick. He allowed her to nudge him, but did not react to her show of affection; it was cooler for him not to."Mm. I will settle for fodder at this point in time. Someone worthy of death, is acceptable for a test." He needed to get a feel for this new work. Work it into his muscle memory so that it became second nature, like his barrier crest.
The park did have a few shady people in it from time to time. "You are still growing in power, then." Perhaps they could fight to the death one day. He did aim to become as powerful as a god with his new found strength. Then, he could fight more people like that greek he had encountered last month...
He didn't reply to her defensive statement about the family of her charge. It was none of his business, after all. She wanted to kill them, though, so it was interesting. He stopped next to the path as she offered to lure someone out. "I am interested. Show me." He'd heard tales of the Yokai's talents... Would they hold as true as the tales about him?
Climbing to his feet was a difficult task just this moment, but he had been in battle more than enough to know that he wouldn't survive just laying on the ground. He leaned against the table for support as he drew out a barrier crest as he looked over to his opponent.
His spell had landed, and he'd even managed to land the barest knick on the man as well. Now, all he needed to do was watch the booming blade take effect for the first time, on a powerful opponent. He grinned through the pain. It became readily apparent that this man was healing on top of all of his other strengths, as his short sword wound faded quickly. "Hah hah... I will admit, Son of Jupiter. You are amazing. A class of your own."
This was the strongest man he had ever fought. Thus far, though, no foe had ever been strong enough to defeat him.
The giant stepped, and the room rocked with the force of his spell being triggered. After it was cleared, his opponent was clearly worse for wear, having taken a blow that would render a normal man incapacitated. This was no normal man, though. Neither was Raijin. He gritted his teeth, and let go of the table, standing at his full height, well aware that he couldn't take too much more punishment.
"Good, you have not yet perished! Come at me, Oni!" The room was definitely clearing out at this point. People that had stayed, wondering if this were some strange sort of show, had gotten the hint and skedaddled. That did leave the passed out boy in the wheelchair out in the open, though Raijin's focus was solely on his opponent at this point.
The Neko shared in his excitement, the creation of deadly art. He wondered how many times he could do this before running out of energy. He would have to test his limits. He looked up from the locked stare he had on his blade, before looking up to see the cat at eye level.
She'd climbed that tree with the grace and speed of a...right. He grinned, eyeing the tip of the Wakizashi's blade to ensure it was still in good condition before sheathing it once more. "Magic." He stated at her question, not shy about the origins of his newest powers.
"Now, all I need is someone to test this on. Neko-chan, do you know anyone who needs a reckoning?" He spoke in their native tongue, glad to be able to communicate with someone in the language he was most comfortable with. At times, when he was speaking english, he had to pause to find the right words, and perhaps his grammar was oddly skewed at times. He didn't think it made him any less intimidating, but he felt more intelligent speaking in Japanese.
"Have you been your family's feline for some time? When did you become wise enough to speak?" He was already walking, not before offering the feline a shoulder. If she wished to eat him, she would have by now. Why not hunt together? She would only stray from her master if she were feeling peckish, right?
He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded his head fondly at his memory of the incident she was speaking of. "It was 12, and I stained the banner outside of the super market... It's still a little red. They followed me down to the Kibitsu-jinja shrine boardwalk, where I killed the last three. They got all of the stains out after a few days, I suppose. I was shot three times, so I can't say I was too focused on checking out the crime scene."
He watched her for a moment as she considered his deal, and accepted.
Ah. She was a guardian, then. If she spoke the truth, the child she spoke of had gained quite the fierce protector. The Yokai of legend was not one to trifle with lightly. He nodded again, and placed his hands on his knees for a moment and then pulled himself to a standing position. "I have decided I like you, Nekomata. I will consider you a good omen."
He then pulled his short sword, and drew a shape in front of himself before he reared it back. "I will show you why I am here, Yokai!" He yelled out a promise to the sky in their native tongue, to be as swift as lightning.
With all of his might, he heaved the wakizashi, with speared through the air before smacking into a tree 50 feet off. He looked down to the cat, and grinned widely, before opening up his hand, and stepping toward it.
ZZZZZZAT! In a crackling flash he was suddenly at the trunk of the tree, grasping the blade and pulling it free. "To learn to do that..." He turned, and grinned, the thrill of casting a spell for the first time running through his veins like burning lightning.
He didn't speak to her comment on his pragmatism. He could tell she was actively gaging his range, and staying just out of it. She was experienced enough to know that being at the tip of his draw length wasn't enough, either. He was mildly impressed, though he supposed he should not expect less from a Nekomata. Their lore was steeped in blood.
He did grin a little in spite of himself as she recognized him, and displayed a measure of excitement at his presence. "Most are true." It was nice to run into someone who knew of him. Many districts in Japan knew him as a sort of folk legend, a larger than life being that had many stories to go along with his actual feats. He'd never silenced any of them, either.
"I might ask the same as you. Yes. Tell me why you are here, and I promise to impress with a demonstration of why I am. Is that fair, Yokai?"
He remained calm. There was no sense springing into action... she was out of his reach, and so far he got the sense that this Yokai was curious more than anything. The ink needed a moment to dry. He sat up, reaching over to cap his ink jar and place his arm in is lap. She told him her reaction depended on who he was.
No reply came from his mouth. She asked her second question, and he considered the thought for a second, before replying this time. "I take only what is useful. It so happens that the craftsmen of old were good at what they did."
Was the Yokai somehow interested in his weapon? Perhaps these old writings? He wondered what a Japanese spirit was doing in such a place. Then again, what was he doing here? This was the place to be.
"Like death?" He spoke, letting go of his blade, and sliding his arm from his sleeve, doing the same with the other, he let his garb fall from his shoudlers, revealing his tattoos. "You wondered who I am. Why I reeked of death. Does this answer those questions?" Two gods were locked in fierce battle across his pieces, a dragon clawed its way up his chest between them.
He looked over to the dark spirit to see how she might react. The Aura of death energies drifting from his skin would be more intense without his coverings, not that he was at all aware of this. He just knew many identified him via his tattoos.
Okay. Yes. It would have to be flashy. Violent. A sure hand stroked brush against paper in fine designs that detailed the parameters of something interesting, that would make sense to absolutely one living person in the world. It was true, as far as he knew, he was the only japanese practitioner of spellcraft alive in this time. Most of his reference material was at least two hundred years old.
One or two more lines ought to do it. At this point he was just making the flash brighter, the crackles extend out further. He turned to dip his brush once more, pausing as he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He continued moving, dipping the brush once more, and writing another line... Faster. Snappier. A close to the spell was all he needed.
"Curious, little Neko... What a long tail you have." He spoke in english, knowing any cat that lived here would meow, and not nyan. He turned slowly to look toward the cat that had been watching him. He began to reach out to extend a finger toward her, when she suddenly spoke.
"...Bakeneko." He spoke, his other hand moved to rest upon his blade, though he did not act past that. He leaned back, and dipped his brush once more with his free hand as she spoke. "Iie... Anata wa Nekomatadesu..." He spoke in his native tongue as well.
A demon had come to him. Maybe this was just what happened when you killed as many as he had. "No one of consequence this time... A thief. I have killed greater foes in the past. I will kill even greater in the future."
He scrawled the last line on his scroll, and set the brush aside. "Tell me, demon. Have you come to feast upon my flesh, or will you be a good omen to me?" With them, it really could go either way.
It was an overcast day. Any moment, it threatened to rain. Raijin had chosen to go out anyway. He brought no umbrella. If the sky dared to rain down upon him, he would tear it asunder with his wrath.
Or so he'd like to think. The forecast said it would likely rain tomorrow. He figured he had time to sit in the park and finish his latest scroll of spellwork. That spark of inspiration the other day had nearly come to fruition. He sat in the park, his usual place, having already scoured the park and scratched out all of the little art pieces.
Leaning back against the tree, he looked up at its branches, mumbling under his breath what ever came to mind. Imagery, sparks of electricity, howling winds. He would bounce between random musings, and intricate spellwork scrawled out in runes originating in his homeland. He hadn't looked at his phone, and the overcast sky made it difficult to tell the time. How long had he been here? Was it nearing night? He was close to finishing, but if it was getting late, it might become too dark to see properly. His phone had been fried this morning when he checked it, so he would have to get a replacement on the way home...
He threw caution to the wind. For all he knew it was still early afternoon. He shifted his robes for comfort once more, and started filling out more lines in his spell scroll.
