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 Welldrinker Cult
A shadowy group is gaining power, drawing in people who are curious, vulnerable, or malicious, and turning them into Mystics. They are recruiting people into their ranks to spread the influence of magic in the world, but for what end goal?
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.
He scooped up a noodle monster. Threw it. Went at another with chop sticks. Skewered a pork bun. Laughed as Carrick devoured it. Threw a minor illusion of another one, which Carrick could not eat.
This was insane, he could have just kept eating. Why had the kid even done this, the one the Asian x-man had been talking to, they’d have to sort that out. Make sure this never happened again. That would be the x-man’s job, though. He was just here to get rid of this junk so he could go back for more food. Or leave with a clear conscience, and go get dessert.
“I wish I knew what had even been the reason behind this.” He muttered.
August didn’t understand mutants. At least when mystics caused chaos, it generally was intentional. Mutants could just activate and bam. Chaos.
August went at the graffiti, artistic in the way only an artist can be, which is to say— eh. Art happened. There really was no explaining it.
His art was removing the old art. It got removed. The area got a uniform coat of paint. Stuff happened.
Rex asked him what it was like being a concert violinist.
Good question.
“It takes dedication and a very great deal of work,” August told him. “You have to do a load of practicing, daily, and study music history, theory, performing, all that jazz. Have to sacrifice a lot of free time for it. And before any of that, you have to get the right degree for it. I worked my butt off.”
He looked away from the wall he was painting, back to Rex. He bit his lip a moment, thinking, considering what Rex might possibly be thinking. Pay grade maybe?
“I make a good amount, with the orchestra’s yearly schedule. I do some gig work at weddings and stuff if I want to make extra money. It beats the 9-5 grind. Get to play a lot of good music. Remind me some time to play a Star Trek riff for you, that I practiced once for a Klingon wedding. John Williams has good ones, too. Never done a Star Wars wedding though. Wonder why.”
Yeeeeeep. Was that Campbell’s, because it sounded like it had come from a can. But yes… it was a good reason for club penguin.
>> "Honestly, I can't really tell what the purpose of it is, other than keeping mystics connected. Which is good enough, I suppose. Don't really know what other people are doing,"
August did not say stripping.
They finished trash pickup in amiable silence. Then Rex presented him with choices.
“I feel artistic.” He said, then clarified. “Destruction of art is also art. Though it’s a shame. This tagger, Claremont, does good work. Looking at that fuzzy blue demon with a Bible, and that white-haired black woman riding that storm cloud. It’s uncanny.” How’d it all fit on the slide?
He took the napkin off his neck, and dropped it to the table as he rose. He had been eating. This has interrupted his meal. And then the gryphon, and the memories. Urp.
Really. His appetite. August had absolutely not needed the reminder.
Someone had cut down his lunch in front of his face. He was not feeling the happy.
As he walked past gryphon, he spot the monster and endearing smile. Forced.
“Got to hand it to you, Peter. You and your friends always save the day. Eat up. You’ve earned this.”
He glided up to the Asians. He had grabbed enough vocabulary from random Asian stuff to know “stop.” August did the magic hand signs, and suggested it. The boy stopped yammering. The six remaining monsters did not.
“orz,” he told the man. “That usually works. Guess we have to take the last ones ourselves.”
He had bared his soul to the other man. Waiting, patiently, for something, any response to the awkward bits. August was uncertain how the man would react.
Would he take a step back, at the admission?
Would he be disgusted, would he be annoyed, would he try to say what was wrong about him, try to fix him, ask him what was wrong with him, tell him he should get fixed, stay silent, stay loud, or do one of the myriad other options one has when someone tells them something about gender identity that may not be something they’ve ever considered, or been comfortable with.
August sort of held his breath.
Rex chose… Rex chose to grunt, nod, make a comment about focusing on the last part next time. The part about him thinking something was not right? The part about him needing to do something about it? That part?! That part was the least, the lowest, the bottom rung of the ladder, the barest essential reason for someone to do anything!
August was about to open his mouth, and tell him that, because the silence about the meat of his large exposition had been neglected. And one does not neglect— you know what, we are moving beyond that metaphor.
August felt frustrated, and he felt dismissed. The man had cut to the quick of his statements, then smirked about it and gone back to stabbing trash.
August stabbed trash, instead of stabbing Rex, or sharing a cutting word. Then, Rex said something about his father.
August turned, ready for a fight.
The man would not look him in the eye. He disappointed him. By not picking a fight. He chose peace, and said something really nice. The bastard.
Maybe it was all a bit too much, too fast. The confessions, the fact he might be a friend of Dorothy. Maybe Rex was not ready to get swept up in that, this moment. Because he had sent a word cyclone spinning through that rundown playground they were in. And even though Rex had not said anything conclusive upon his opinions of what August had said, they were in a different place now, all the same.
His shoulders loosened. Yeah. He could give Rex a moment to process what he had said.
“Thanks,” August replied. He held the trash spear held aloft, so the crumpled detritus was silhouetted against the body of the sun. He turned, and stuffed it into his sack. “I’m trying. But it can be trying… that’s trite. But true. And I guess we are now part of a special club that goes around trying to help people, and do ‘good stuff.’ In ‘good form.’ Yeah?”
He didn’t need to tell him. Sure. He could do that. This was kind of a confession, after all. Probably an awkward one. He could have simply not gone into it, instead of— what, probably overloading the man with way too much information. Rex thought he was brave, after all. It would be silly to go and ruin all of that… right?
He bit his lower lip thoughtfully, and chewed over his thoughts. “Thanks.” He said, after a second. “For the compliment. And yeah. I probably could stand to learn some new spells for offense and defense… rather than using words as my shield. Hrm.” Now he was introspective about his powers. “But words are pretty amazing, too.” He added.
So. Words. Did he confess? Or was he cool with letting it sit and be an open question, even after he had gone out of his way to pique Rex’s interest. Interest Rex gave him an out on.
He thought about it for a second, and stabbed trash.
“Sooo. Uhhh. Three reasons,” august said. “First is lame. Second is better. Third makes no sense, but it is best. I apologize. This is the information overload route. Are you Ready?”
He had done some thinking on this. Some of his reasoning had been flawed, some selfish, and some stupid beyond recognition, but also pretty valid, all things considered.
He really didn’t want to talk about reason one. It went against baseline personality traits. Those were like the Ten Commandments. Thou shalt not talk about X, thou shalt hate Y, et cetera. Et cetera.
“I don’t really like talking about my family,” August began honestly. Not sarcastic. But maybe with a hint or humor and self loathing. “They have lied to me pretty much my entire life. I thought my real dad was … my grandpa… most of my life. Don’t ask. My real dad, though… never met him. Super villain. Cold steels arch nemesis, private dancer. Makes people dance when they don’t wanna. Wonder why my magic is how it be. This is the lame reason, by the way. Ready? Okay: I thought if cold steel died, my real dad would be sad. Never even met him, but there it is. The lie.”
He waited a few seconds, then continued.
“That lame lie got my feet moving out the door, but it wasn’t why I went. I’ve met CS once. One time. I ran away. Reasons 2 and 3 are as-follows: Cold Steel is a fracking masterpiece. He’s really hot, and I would be sad if he died. I worried he was gonna. Which makes no sense, because he’s strong. And brave. And noble, and does good things like a goddamn storybook knight. And I don’t know him, and these things are all laughable, and why would he die if he’s so tough, yeah? Such a stupid reason, a crush… but he did.” August looked Rex in the eye. “Need saving. And I did. Me and Carrick seized him out of the sky. When he fell. So I guess I helped. Heh. Oh, and I also really thought mystics attacking a school was poor form and had to stop them because it wasn’t right. So, um. I’m not radioactive, man, I’m just blushing alright?!”
He stabbed something. He had not meant this to be a confessional. This man was religious, wasn’t he? What with the burning crosses?
‘Forgive me, daddy. I’ve been bad.’ Wasn’t that what you said to priests?
“I suppose this makes me decidedly less impressive…” August sighed. But maybe it was good to lose his illusions. Definitely more honest. And his family had made him all sorts of screwed up when it came to the honesty game. None, or too much, too soon. This was… the latter. He fell quiet. After that monologue, he kind of needed a drink of water before he would feel like talking more.
Needed to be done. Again, good answer. The goodest. Wasn’t even a word. But he’s make it one.
There had to be more to it than that, some ulterior motive. He was really that good? No ‘wanted to get into cold steel’s pants’, or ‘some X man owes me a lot of money.’ Just ‘needed doing.’ Okay.
He looked down from a brief, admiring, but also skeptical, look. Stabbed and bagged more trash.
The question gif turned back on him, and his answer was not as good. Not as noble. He let Rex drop the compliment first, then prepared to disappoint him.
“I almost didn’t go…” He said, frowning. A plastic bag got stuffed into a plastic bag. “When I did, I did it sneaky-like. I had been told by the mystics what was going down, and told them I would have no part in helping them do it… then I snuck into their gathering before they teleported in… and just ran through the back ranks, using suggestion magic to tell people they probably ought to go home. It was going to be much safer if they went home. I can’t really make people do things that will bring them harm… had to prey on their cowardly natures to get them to leave… just like I preyed on the big flying mansion destroyer at the end. Told him he would have to expend all of his magic if he wanted to win…. He did. He lost. But… those are all great descriptions of what I did. Why…?”
August got quiet for a minute, and just fell into the pattern of stab, sack, stab, bag, stab, sack. Finally, he turned back to Rex.
“It’s stupid,” he had a silly half-smile. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”
A firefighter. August arched an eyebrow in surprise, then nodded in acceptance. Once again, something for the hood of others. Not what he himself would do. Rex showed his colors again. Fire and passion. Helping others.
“It is unreal how much I respect that,” august stated soberly.
It was unreal, because old august would have had other things to say. Few would have been respectful. That had been before he worked with Rex and others, sacrificing time and a whole load of energy. On a whim. To protect reality. But mainly because he had gotten word something would happen. Something bad. And he had the hots for one of the few who would be affected by the bad. He was still unpacking how his life had changed, all THAT baggage. It was his bag, but he wasn’t going to unpack it on Rex’s floor.
He just followed and walked and carried. They got where they were going.
The gates were noisy. Did they have oil for that? Oily magic? They ought to call Herc. He was probably magical when he was oily—shutthef^*%upaugustchrist. He mentally shushed himself. They weren’t objectifying friends today. Especially ones with complicated romantic histories.
The whole place needed a coating of magical love and attention. More than an oil cans worth. He put on the gloves and took up the spear. He had no magic for cleaning. Good old fashioned elbow grease would have to do. Ugh. He was wearing nice clothes.
“Towards thee I roll,” August held up the spear, and with a slightly crooked smile, he continued the speech, voice lowered dramatically. Ironically. “Thou all-destroying but unconquering whale; to the last I grapple with thee; from hell’s heart I stab at thee…”
He skewered a piece of trash, and stuffed it in the bag.
Cleansing this place better not be the death of him. Their all-consuming white whale of a task.
After several minutes of cleaning, he turned to Rex.
“So.” He started, in a conversational tone. Thrust, point. Stab. He jabbed a Greasy Burger box. “Why did you choose to defend the school?”
He smiled at Hercules. Throwing the club, holding on? Interesting magic. Nice take on a classic. And he relied on masters? Interesting. Noted for future… notes. A mystic who draws powers from others.
He drew his power from runes or gestures. From other people? That was something else. The two were Serena, and the one behind the counter serving drinks. He thought her name was Madison? Okay.
The portal guy commented on Hercules’ age. Being alive for centuries. Something to ask about—
Zek kept talking.
August looked at the guy eating hot wings and suggesting names. He smiled cheekily.
“Hex-force, hexestentislists. Good ones.” He said. Then pointedly glanced around. “But you’re missing the obvious one for a place called Hexes and Hos. My dear man, the team would have to be called the Hex Workers.”
Yeah. That sure was a name alright. He nabbed a wing or two on his own little plate, and just sort of vanished into his drink.
“So Hercules.” He said, after a few moments. “Like, The Hercules. Alive forever, the Demi-god who did trials of the gods. Nemeian lion, Megara, et cetera. That guy? When in your long life did they teach you to have a club pull you off the ground? Interesting magic trick for sure.”
Things had started happening very rapidly. When mystics had started approaching from behind, unhappy with him for sending other mystics away with his power… he absolutely had not waited for the lady with the plant fairy summon to thank him for his assistance, and invite him onto the team. He’d just said “Yeah, okay! Never mind! Good luck!!”
He had skirted the terrifying plant fairy thing, tossed up a minor illusion of a wall between him and the nearest mystic, and fled. Another mystic, another illusion. The mystic’s sword slashed through a flaming summon illusion, and left him alone.
Disengage, disengage! Run, dash, run!!!!
“I suggest you look over there!”
“I suggest you focus your attention on that terrifying crow aiming to peck out your eyes!”
“Danger danger, sir you are on fire. I suggest you douse yourself before you get burned.”
And on and on he went. Eventually, he reached a fence. Because he was in the forest outside the mansion. He looked to his left. A mystic was opening a door-shaped portal, ready to pop on through to the other side.
“You need help. Take me with you?” He suggested. The mystic nodded, and gestured him through. And that is how August arrived from the forest side of things to the mansion courtyard.
The second he arrived, a mystic fell from the sky right on top of his portal friend, crushing him instantly. The mystic was huge. Had… been… huge.
“Sucks to suck,” he said. Then he set eyes on some guy as he got punched by another huge mystic. “Huh.”
“Maybe don’t punch him while he’s down?” He suggested to the lumbering oaf. The man stared at him.
“I hate mind control…” he muttered.
Oh no! The guy had resisted his spell. And now he was chasing after him with fiery hot punches! Yipes! Oh no!
“Heavens to Murgatroyd!” But at least the mansion resident wasn’t getting assaulted any more.
August ran. And ran. And ran. Until something encased in ice crashed down behind him, atop his pursuer. He spun and stared. Birds suddenly appeared, like in the damn song. “Cold Steel….”
They were crows. Not doves. That made it a lot less… something.
He had only briefly met the man, fled. Knew him from the news, and his dad. Guy was sort of the only reason he had even come to the mansion, and— freaking saved him accidentally, from out of the sky. He didn’t know what to say.
He stared at Rex. And stared at Rex. And stared and stared and stared, as the man spoke. Something was occurring to him. Something kind of strange. He, himself, was not august. He was August, sure, but he was not august. Rex, though? This guy was respected and impressive. Or, if he wasn’t, he deserved to be. Because he was far better, far more sincere than he could ever be. The guy did community service. He had been doing community service for YEARS. Not ironically. For real.
August had been a rich kid. Was a spoiled adult. All the same, he was aware people didn’t all come from money. Some came from no money. He did not often spend time with them, but they existed. Many had interesting stories. Some were sad. But people came from humble beginnings, story or no. And sometimes, the lack of money made things hard. Led to problems beyond lack of money. Rex was trying to help people, and prevent that. And just give people something nice. In short, he was like… like a dungeons and dragons paladin.
Yeah.
August carried the tools. The whole bag of them. And he made a resolution. He was not going to flirt with this man. He was too good for him. He’d do his best though, to not bring him down. He had volunteered for this activity, he would do what he could for this. Okay? And he was not going to let people be mean to Rex. This was about as self-aware as he could get.
“That’s pretty cool, actually. I respect that.” He said. About everything. “I agree. Let’s help them out.”
He idly wondered if his grandfather had ever helped anyone other than himself in his life. Way to one up the old man.
As they walked, August made small talk.
“So, what do you do when you aren’t helping take care of communities? My day job is concert violinist. Lot of practice, but I enjoy it. What is you? What do you do? Your passion?”
Respected, and impressive. Both? At the SAME TIME? Yeah, he did not have that. It would take great effort to live up to his name. And you know what august always says when people suggest he put hard work into something, people!
Great…. Effort.
Sigh.
How did he get roped into this again? Well? Him and Rex bumped into each other at the library. In his wise moment of inspiration, August was like “Hey Rex, what are you up to? Want to do an activity?”
And Rex was like “I often volunteer to do community service. I was just about to do such a thing. Would you care to join me?”
And August was like “Hoo boy, would I?” And Rex… well Rex thought better of him than he would have, himself. He took August at his word. So… here he was. Hooray!
Community service. Servicing the community. For free. Without a court order. In what world was this a thing people did? It was a good thing Rex was handsome.
So now, August was working on his… august reputation. Ba dum tsh.
“So…” August began awkwardly. “Been doing this a long time? Community service? Tell me about that. How are we helping people today?”
‘Don’t be an ass dont be an ass ,’ he inwardly recited. Purposefully moderating his tone to one of an inquisitive person, rather than a dismissive one.
He smiled and nodded at the question, “oh did she.” Yep, she had. Then, he looked to Hercules and his descriptions. He certainly could paint a picture.
He sipped at his alcohol, and just let people talk. At times, he could be a bit of a spotlight hog, and his hog reserves were running low. He figured he could take a backseat until the wings arrived.
And suddenly, Baklava. Oh boy. The girlfriend warned against it, and August stayed clear.
Someone shouted “to Xavier’s.” He raised a glass and mirrored people’s reactions. Then, finally, why wings arrived.
“Praise be,” he announced. “Hot wings. Ladies.”
Oh, were they kissing? Well, whenever they tore they selves away from that meal, they could have this. He had ordered plenty.
“Want a wing, Hercules? I’ve more than enough for everyone. You worked up an appetite too. I caught some of your work. Flying around with that club. Nice.”
His mystic-radar was going off. And something Honey’s girlfriend had commented had made him think. “If we do start some sort of mystic butt kicking club, you’re free to join.” He was not sure he would be up for fights, but actual mingling? Sure.
August joined in the incantation in front of the lion guardian statue. Infused it with power, along with the others who had joined them. Then followed Red into the space, behind Rex.
They had discussed this. He had heard the location would be a library. A dang library, Ah well. He liked books. Hearing it had been a library had given him time to gather up some house-warming gifts at least. Looking around the interior of the extra dimensional space, yeah, he was glad he had done that. The cupboards were bare, so to speak.
Rex was asking a lot of questions about safety, like he were some sort of safety inspector. What was his day job?
He approached Red, and held out a pair of wrapped packages. “For the shelves, Red.” He said. “Open up.”
One was a thick package, a fancy leather bound tome he had found in a China town book shop the last time he had been in California. It was a treatise on magic. The other package was a lot smaller, thin, even. About the width of a couple magazines, stacked together. When she opened it, it would reveal—
Well. Reading material and some calendars. One had a fireman on the cover. They almost looked suspiciously like Rex. The other two magazines had men on the cover. Living their lives.
“I was told this was a library.” He smirked. “Can’t have a library without books. And a calendar, to keep track of time. Especially important in… an extra dimensional space. Definitely check out July. Very patriotic. A captain.”
August had cheered on everyone in the bus. He’d been some of the driving energy that had led several of the people onto the bus with his enthusiasm and his siren’s song. Not the only person, but definitely a force for good. That short-haired girl, the girl who had cuffed the head mystic. Others. His friend, Peter Gryphon. He supposed the kids name was actually Carrick, but— Peter suited him better. Especially when he laughed.
How had they even arranged for a bus? Wellllllllll… he may have called in a favor with some of his familial connections. And money had changed hands. It certainly had not been thrust all upon the fine mystics at Hexes and Hos (gorgeous name, by the way. Absolutely fabulous). He had done his part to make this happen.
Now, he sat by the bar, on a stool several seats away from the muscle-bound shirtless guy and a girl with short hair. He frowned when Hunkules found a shirt, cute shirt though. The two introduced themselves to each other and he lurked, and committed the names to memory.
He had heard some talk on the bus. She had lost her mutation, and also joined their magical ranks. All on the same day. It had been a big, tiring day for all of them, but especially for her. So she needed some support. Thankfully, her girlfriend appeared shortly afterwards. The woman apologized to Hercules.
He sat there with his shot glass, thinking. A couple stools away. Far less hyper than his bus persona had been. Thoughtful. A now non-magical cittern lay on the bar next to him. He would keep the instrument. Maybe mount it on his wall for the… for the memories? Yeah. But for now—
He stood up, and walked over to the bar. Spoke to one of the bartenders. “Hey. Can we get some food please? And something for muscles and the pixie over there? Maybe some wings or something? Bet she’s hungry. I’m starving. And another drink? Thank you so much!” He smiled.
A short while later, he walked over to Hercules and the two women. He smacked a shot glass down in front of Hercules.
“You asked for another. I’m August. Pleasure to meet you. Love the shirt.” He winked. Turned to the ladies. “Can I get you both anything? Shots. I ordered wings. If you want any. Should be ready any time now. This fight took a lot out of us. I can only imagine how exhausted you are, Honey. Glad you’ve got your girl there for support. She saved our asses at the end, you know?” He looked at the newcomer. The girlfriend. Nodded, like he couldn’t believe it either. “Totally true.”