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.
Blue eyes stared unblinking and unseeing at the lone survivor as he slowly came 'round. His muffled shrieks and scream would have woken the dead if it were possible and there was no way he could ever have a night of unbroken sleep in the foreseeable future. From now on whenever he closed his eyes he would see other eyes staring back out at him, sightless and devoid of emotion. With broken sobs the man stumbled out of the room, leaving behind the circle of death that he had awoken in.
***
Some time later the room was suddenly illuminated by a flash of brilliant flames. The flames crackled with an intense heat, scorching the bodies that lay next to where the flames had suddenly burst into existence. A few minutes later the flame flickered and died leaving behind a dusting of ashes and a body laying upon them.
Slowly Paul moving into a sitting position, and then a standing one. Stretching he flexed the muscles in his left arm, smiling grimly at how everything felt perfect once again. Tiredness was gone, broken bones were miraculously whole, and he felt all over like a new man. Looking around him he took a moment to ponder exactly how the crime scene investigators would explain this. Five bodies posed in a circular shape with a sixth spot in the circle simply covered by ash.
"Why did he deserve burning?" Paul mimicked their questions aloud as he glanced around the room for the supplies that he would need to successfully get out. His own clothes had been torched due to his rebirth and he didn't particularly care for stripping the dead. Noticing a torn, dirty, moth-eaten blanket in the corner he strode over to it and wrapped it around his shoulders. It wasn't clothing but it would do for now. "And a little memento for my blond friend." Paul added as he reached down to pick up the knife that lay on the ground with a blanket covered hand. Wrapping it within the folds he turned and walked toward the door.
Moving out of the building Paul began to make his way down the alley ways, eyes alert for his next opportunity. He was almost giddy from the youthful exuberance and strength he could feel coursing through his body. It had been some years since he last felt this good but he was most certainly going to enjoy this. Speed... strength... passion... they all lay before him begging to be taken up and released upon the world. Though it was difficult to control all of the youthful hormones that were rushing through his body there had been plenty of time to practice over the years. Pleasure would be enjoyed at a later time but first business had to be dealt with.
***
A pair of worn boots only half a size two big led up to torn and tattered pants tied with a length of rope around the waist to keep them up. A wife beater t-shirt tucked into the pants while a ripped and shredded leather jacket covered his bare arms. Approximately fifteen or twenty bucks in cash were tucked in his pocket and the knife, with its handle wrapped by shredded pieces of blanket, was carefully concealed in the jacket's inner pocket.
It didn't take a lot to encourage the transient to donate to a worthy cause and revenge was the most worthy of all. Along with clothing Paul had collected the information that he was looking for. A blond lady wearing a fancy duds hung out at the place with the golden doors, according to the man on the street. And that was where Paul intended to find her.
***
Moving down the street toward the golden doors Paul watched everything closely. He hadn't seen her walking anywhere and so that probably meant she was inside but could he be sure? Was it a smart decision to simply go in and ask for her? Deciding that an aggressive approach was the best one Paul simply strode toward the doors. Noting the sign next the door Paul's mind suddenly made a connection. "Sanctuary... so the Order and the Sanctuary are connected. Very nice."
Continuing forward Paul opened the doors and stepped inside, muscles tensed for action and lips curved into what he hoped was a relatively pleasant smile.
On almost any other day Paul could have defended himself or at least knocked the knife away so that it only hit an arm or shoulder or something. He had learned to protect himself on the streets, in the military, and even in organized martial arts. Dodging, blocking, or knocking away was second nature. Of course this wasn't any other day. This was today and Paul was tired from an hour long run followed by what amounted to a bar brawl. He could actual feel the muscles in his legs quivering ever so slightly just to keep him standing, at least he could until a knife suddenly sprouted out of his chest.
Looking down Paul just shook his head as he felt everything suddenly beginning to drain way which each beat of his heart. "What is it with me and knives?" He wondered loud enough for the woman to hear as he slowly collapsed to his knees, "This is the second time... third if you count me."
The stain was growing on his shirt as he looked up at the blond that he could credit with his fifth, or maybe it was sixth, death. His eyes were calm not trying to pass judgment or even ask why. Death was a part of his cycle and to be honest, this wasn't even one of his more impressive deaths.
"I thought you were out to kill humans... not mutants." Paul said coolly even though his voice was already beginning to weaken. Not wanting this to drag on any longer than necessary he slowly lifted his right hand and drew the knife out before dropping it to the floor in front of him. Suddenly his body lost its strength and he found himself sprawled out on the floor. It was interesting that this time his death could be credited to another mutant. All his previous deaths had been due to either an accident, a human, or suicide but never another mutant.
He'd have to track this woman down... same as he had that mugger so many years before. With that last satisfying thought, he thought no more.
She would have to notice the lack of washing machine. What was with this girl? Couldn't she leave a man to his embarrassment in peace? Obviously standing on the lawn in just your boxers while rinsing your pants wasn't normal but most people would have just stared as they walked past. What were the odds of someone actually stopping to chat? One in a thousand? One in a million? And of course she would have to be that 'one'.
Finally satisfied that the pants were safe he dropped the hose and pulled on the saturated garment. Sure it was sopping wet and at the moment felt completely miserable against his bare skin but at least he was covered. And, come to think of it, the coolness of the fabric felt pretty good on his bites, especially that one on the posterior.
"Fire ants are known for causing that urge." Paul responded as he walked over to inspect where he had left his shoes. He would rather not have to rinse them out since that would take days, not just hours, to dry. Focusing on the footwear as he lifted it up for examination he went on with his explanation. "Customer wants a raised flower bed with stone wall framing. Somehow during my digging I missed a fire ant colony but they didn't miss me."
The footwear seemed to be clear and after running his hands over both the outside and inside he pulled the shoes back on and moved on to inspect his shirt.
"So are you just out for a morning jog?" He asked as he glanced up and gave the woman a grin, "Or do you regularly go out looking for men washing their clothes on the lawn?"
"Who would have thought that simply ordering a pizza would help with a landscaping job? Paul wondered as he pulled the rented pick up into a parking space at the hole in the wall burger joint he frequented. A pizza delivery had allowed him to meet Joe who he noticed drove a big military type vehicle just perfect for hauling mulch, rocks, and other landscape items. After a brief conversation a deal had been struck and the next day Joe had been at the job just outside the city limits.
Stepping out of his truck Paul stretched and then glanced over to where Joe was pulling his monster of a vehicle into its own space. "He's a hard worker... gotta give him credit there." Paul murmured before turning and heading into the restaurant. He'd grab them a table and make sure the waitress knew that he was going to be paying for the whole tab.
The job had been a big one and even when he bid it Paul had been unsure just how he would accomplish it by himself. He had thought about going to one of those day labor places to see about picking someone up but those were as hit or miss as asking the pizza guy to help. Of course, in this instance, asking the pizza guy to help had paid off big time.
"Thanks for the help today." Paul spoke up when Joe finally approached the table where he was sitting, "And here's your cut." Fishing in his pocket he pulled out a wad of cash that added up to $600 bucks. That was a 50/50 split of the profit they'd made after the materials were paid for. "Order what you want. They've got one of the best bacon cheeseburgers I've ever had."
The pile had finally broken up and Paul rolled away before scrambling back up to his feet. His left arm seemed to be strangely twisted in the radius and ulna and it was hurting as badly as he'd hurt only a few other times in his long life. Blondie was scrambling to her feet while Paul tried to drum up at least a little more energy to finish off this fight. Right now his hour long run seemed pretty stupid and if the way the woman looked was any condition she was going to end up dead right after he died... again.
Suddenly the man up on the ceiling dropped like a stone, right onto the one that Paul was facing. "Thank goodness." He muttered as he turned back to face the blond who had somehow recovered her other shoe. Her shoes weren't supposed to be crimson, were they?
"So... can you just fry all of them so we can go to our respective homes now?" He asked wearily, dropping his right arm to hang at his side just like his useless left arm, "Or do you prefer leaving enemies alive so they can come after you again down the road?"
He was tired. Not quite dead tired but when he finally made it to bed there would be no dreams tonight. Of course that was assuming he could fall asleep with the pain that was radiating from his arm. Not for the first time in his life, Paul briefly considered the idea of forcing his resurrection power through self-inflicted means simply for the healing and renewal it would provide but he immediately shook it off. That was the wimpy way to go. Pain was something that made a person grow it wasn't something that a person should try to escape from. His arm would heal after it had been set by a doctor and he would learn a lesson from it. "And a suggestion for us both to remember... dodge blows from heavy objects, don't block them."
It seemed like the woman was holding her own but Paul couldn't focus on that for very long because he now found himself with a problem of his own. He was down to one arm and the man facing him had a pair of brass knuckles. The pipe had been bad enough but brass knuckles were basically impossible to disarm which meant that unless he knocked out the man or killed him he was going to take some more damage.
Suddenly a fist swung in his direction and Paul stumbled back as he tried avoid the punch. He tried to move back far enough to get in a kick but suddenly the woman and her attacker had rolled into his attacker and then tumbled on to entangle him in the mess. Suddenly powerless in this close of quarters all Paul could do was try to shield himself from attacks with his good right arm while trying to ignore the pain from his left arm as they rolled over and over on the floor.
"Augh!" He groaned through gritted teeth as his left arm briefly came in contact with the blond woman sending electrical shocks lancing through his limb and only magnifying the pain he was already feeling. He didn't know exactly what had happened or what he was feeling, all he knew was that the pain was intense and as they rolled there seemed to be no way to escape.
"No pain, no gain!" He finally gritted out as he pulled his right arm away from his face and shoved at one of the attackers. Sure, he was leaving himself defenseless now but unless he managed to get out of this mess things were going to get a lot worse for him!
Slowing to a jog and then a walk Paul watched the situation in front of him as his senses suddenly went on high alert. The man that had disappeared apparently behind the metal door the woman was focusing on had looked scared. The woman on the other hand didn't look at all frightened, just pissed. It was beginning to look like the man might need protecting and not the woman. Of course that really wasn't such a surprise. Ever since the the Women's Lib movement of the 60's, 70's, and 80's there had plenty of individuals showing just how strong a woman could be. While there were still plenty of men that would always picture women as the weaker sex, Paul had no such predispositions and he was more than willing to see this woman as a threat as much if not more than the man she was chasing.
"Hold this." The woman said without preamble as she turned toward him and tossed her suit coat toward him. Unfortunately Paul had been running for over an hour so his reaction time wasn't the best in the world and he ended up having to pull the coat off of his sweaty head.
"That'll need to be cleaned." He muttered as he pulled off the coat to look at the large sweat stain that was now embedded in the back of the coat. He was about to say more when the loud groan of metal crunching make his gaze snap upward to focus on the woman and the door in front of her. It was a good thing the sound had triggered his awareness because it gave him time to get out of the way as it came hurtling back toward him.
"Useful trick." Paul said as a trace of admiration snuck into his tired voice. Glancing around the alley he found a relatively clean box setting nearby and after laying the coat on it made his way over to the empty doorway just in time to hear the last part of the woman's tirade.
"This is Order territory! No stealing, no dealing, no fighting, and no f***ing humans! Not unless I say so!"
"What the heck is the Order?" Paul murmured as he leaned against the doorway, for the moment content to just watch what was about to happen. He had been reading the paper extensively ever since his move to New York and he didn't recall even one article about a mutant organization called 'The Order'. Sure there had been some articles about that mutant school, Xavier's or whatever and there had even been some mention about a place called the Sanctuary but the Order?
"You."
It was as though with that one word she had rung the bell. Suddenly she was bum rushed by six, no five since one was already stumbling away from her. Almost cyclonic the fight went on, with people charging, being thrown away then circling and charging again. The lady was obviously holding her own and Paul was half tempted to let her deal with her own problems when one of the guys came his direction with fists flying.
Talking during a fight is a waste of both air and energy and so Paul didn't bother with any sort of witty comment or battle cry. He simply lashed out with a well place kick that slipped past the other man's flailing hands to land forcefully on his sternum.
Stepping over the now breathless man, Paul waded into the fight with narrowed eyes. Maybe a good brawl was just what the doctor ordered. If this didn't clear his head then nothing would! As he kicked, blocked, and occasionally punched he was even beginning to enjoy himself when he noticed one of the attackers pick a length of rusty pipe up off the floor and charge him with it. Cursing under his breath he stepped forward, lifting an arm to stop his opponent swing, already wincing from the pain he knew was about to come.
The snap, crackle, and pop of bone breaking was audible even over the sounds of the fighting but Paul just gritted his teeth against it. How did that old saying go? "Whatever doesn't kill you just makes you stronger."
As the man pulled back the pipe for another swing Paul let his now useless left arm drop while stepping in close. His hand reached up to grab the back of the other man's neck and then slammed his knee into the man's groin. As the man began to fold over his knee came back up again to make sure he'd stay down. Not really caring if he was still alive or not, Paul turned away from the mess on the floor and looked back toward the rest of the fight.
Normally Paul was a morning run type of person but sometimes things happened that made him feel the need to push himself to the point of exhaustion. Extra frustration, sadness, anger... lots of things could do it but today the reason was a little closer to home than he liked.
"It wasn't Ashley!" He muttered fiercly as pushed from a jog up to a flat out run. A face in a crowded mall looked a little to much like the woman he had loved. Maybe it was the hair, the eyes, or the shape of the mouth but whatever it was had been more than enough to dredge up a whole lot of memories that he would just as soon forget.
The sun was beating down and the sweat was pouring from him, soaking his gray t-shirt and the black track pants he wore. His muscles were beginning to complain but Paul knew he hadn't reached the exhaustion he was looking for. Unless he was completely exhausted tonight there would be no sleep. Memories would fill his mind and keep him tossing and turning and Paul refused to allow that to happen. However, even trying to reach exhaustion there was no way he could keep up this pace for very long. With much regret he slowed his pace back to a jog. Even jogging, if he did it long enough, he could make his mind forget. It would just take longer.
***
And hour had come and gone and Paul was not concentrating on where he turned or where he went. Heck, if he was to tired to find his way home he could always get a cab. Glancing up, Paul eyed a large set of golden doors somewhat curiously as he went past. Who the heck had golden doors in New York City? Shaking off the thought he pushed on, moving down this street and randomly turning down that one.
"Odd..." The words somehow bubbled to his mouth unbidden from his tired brain and body. How often did you see a relatively small woman chasing down a man? Especially when the woman was wearing heels that were in no way designed for running.
For a brief moment Paul considered simply continuing with his run but then curiosity got the better of him. Turning to follow the pair, Paul tried to wrap his tired brain around the situation. Did the woman need help? Did the man need help?
"How the heck should I know?" He muttered as he pushed his screaming muscles a little harder, trying to at least keep up with the running woman. Maybe he'd get some answers when... if he caught up to her.
Paul had quieted down to simply muttering and cursing under his breath as he finished washing the last of the evil biting insects off of his body. He was just about to pick up his pants and begin to rinse them out when he suddenly heard a voice.
"Morning."
For a moment Paul froze. The voice was pleasant enough with an interesting accent that he just couldn't place but it was also most definitely feminine. Wasn't this a great way to make a first impression. "Clean boxers... did I make sure to wear clean boxers? I think I did... didn't it?" It was amazing the questions that popped into a persons head in this sort of situation.
Now of course there was one more question to be answered. Should he pretend to be embarrassed to have been caught in his boxers or should he play it off as a completely normal situation with absolutely nothing strange about it. With the woman's tone of voice the latter was probably a good option.
"Morning." Paul replied as he slowly turned to face the woman that had somehow snuck up on him. She was attractive though she did seem to have a lot of piercings. Her black hair hung down with, was that green on the tips? "Great day for laundry." He continued casually as he picked up his pants and began to calmly hose out the awful creatures that had invaded his privacy. In fact... was that... yep, his hind quarters were beginning to itch. Apparently some lone insect had made the long march to fleshier regions.
"Can not scratch..." Paul lectured to himself as he continued rinsing out his pants while resisting the most natural of responses, "Not proper to scratch in front of a lady."
When Paul had a landscaping job he always got to work as early as city ordinances would allow. Even though New York was to the far north of the United States it still got very hot in the summer and while Paul enjoyed some sweating there was no way he wanted to start his work at the hottest part of the day. Today's job was nothing to intense. A residential homeowner was looking for a raised flower bed next to the house with a stone wall framing it to prevent the soil from being washed away while still allowing adequate drainage so that the plants would grow nicely.
A rented work truck held about twenty bags of fertilizer and several rolls of landscape fabric along with two pallets worth of chief cliff dry stack retaining wall stone. After the wall was built and the flower bed was put together Paul would get the flowers and bushes to be planted but that was another days work. For today it was all about removing old vegetation, laying down the fabric, building the wall, and filling the area with soil.
"This might even be two days just for the wall." Paul muttered with a smile as he parked the truck in the driveway and then climbed out. Stretching lazily in the early morning air he walked over to the side of the house to take one more look at area before beginning. Thankfully the husband and his wife were both already at work so he could work in peace.
Once Paul had double checked that his plan for the day was a good one he grabbed a shovel out of the truck and went to work. The spade went into the ground with a satisfying 'shunk' or some such sound and immediately the scent of good soil filled the air. Oh yes... it was a good day.
***
For the next hour or so Paul worked steadily, tossing the waste vegetation onto a large plastic sheet to be mulched or disposed of later and then leveling the soil as he went so it would be ready for the landscape fabric just as soon as he was done. His gray t-shirt was already soaked with sweat and he didn't think his Dickie's work pants would be far behind but that wasn't a problem. Sweat was a good thing.
"Ouch... why you little," Paul began as he paused to flick an ant off of his arm. Suddenly Paul realized his mistake. There was never just one ant and even from the first bite he knew this was no ordinary ant. It was a fire ant and fire ants never bit one at a time. They always waited and sent out a chemical signal telling the others to bite as well. Already it was to late and Paul could feel bite after bite suddenly taking place on his arms and on his lower legs. Apparently his shoveling had disturbed a fire ant mound without his realizing it and the ants were making it very clear that they were not happy.
The shovel dropped to the soft ground with a quiet thump as Paul lept out of the freshly cleared area, slapping at his arms and legs before running toward the side of the house where he had seen a water hose. Kicking off his shoes as he ran he left them by the truck which began a trail of clothing leading toward his destination. "Shoot, shoot, shoot!" He ranted as he dropped his shirt next followed last but not least by his pants which dropped right next to the water hose. Thankfully he was wearing shorts under his pants but still, he couldn't begin to imagine what someone might be thinking if they had just watched this performance.
A sharp intake of breath could be heard the moment that the water hit his chest and began to sweep down his body. Apparently these people had a well or something because the water was ice cold. So there he was... covered with bites on his extremities, stripped down to his shorts, and now almost shaking from the cold water he had to use to save himself from even worse bites.
"What a crappy day..." Paul muttered through clenched teeth as a bird chose that moment to begin its morning song, "Utter crap."
Character's full name: Paul McCoy (Current) Alias/ Nickname/ Code name: Henri Wille (Birth Name), Jacque Henri (French), Andre Blaise (French), Jack Covington (American), Phoenix (Code name) Gender: Male Age: 94 (Looks 44) (Biological Age: 18 - Due to death on Christmas Day) Date of Birth: 08/31/1919 Birthplace/ Home/ Place of origin: Switzerland Nationality: Swiss Ethnicity/ Cultural Heritage: Caucasian
Appearance
Hair color and style: Short Trimmed Gray Hair Skin Tone: Slightly Tanned Eye Color: Blue Height: 6’ Build: Lean, Fit, Athletic Visible mutation: N/A Scars/ Tattoos/ Piercings: N/A Other features: N/A
Everyday clothing style: Comfortable shoes, Pants (jeans or khakis), Shirt (T-Shirt, Polo, or Dress Shirt), Jacket (Leather Jacket or Sport Coat). Uniform: N/A Sleepwear: Sweat pants & T-Shirt Miscellaneous clothing: N/A
Character
Personality: Paul has seen and experienced a lot in his life so it is difficult to surprise him. Though he tried to keep from getting to close to anyone he is personable and able to carry a conversation with most people. Paul normally has lots of acquaintances but few if any he would actually call friends. Hobbies/ Interests: Cooking/baking (to remember his childhood), Sparring (to remember how to survive), Reading (to gain knowledge), Meditating/contemplating (to remember past pain and focus on never experiencing it again), Running (to quiet the mind through sheer exhaustion) Job or part time job and description: Part-time Landscaper (Planting trees, bushes, flower, etc.) Fears/ phobias/ concerns: Without the fear of death to plague him, Paul is basically fearless. He knows that pain is only temporary and so he can bear most anything that comes his way. Special talents: Paul is an experienced pick pocket, thief, robber, and safe cracker. While he is semi-retired from the profession he does still like to keep his skills up to date.
Morality
Good/ bad/ neutral/ other: Neutral/Bad Paul is not full blown evil but he is more than willing to get his hands dirty in order to accomplish a goal. Even murder is an option if that is what it takes.
Mutations
Mutation description: Phoenix Rebirth Strengths: An hour after Paul's body dies it bursts into flame. After a few moments the flames disappear leaving him alive and lying on a pile of ashes. This rebirth resets his age back to 18 but it does not reset his appearance. His appearance will remain the same as when he died and until his biological age has caught up with his appearance age his looks will not change. Weaknesses and Limitations: (1) This is not true immortality by any sense of the word. Either natural sickness or old age will bring about his permanent death. As long as Paul dies from injuries sustained to his body he will be reborn but he CAN NOT recover from a death due to natural causes. (2) Paul is not able to activate this ability on a whim. There are only two instances in which this power will activate. (a) Paul's heart stops and his body is quite literally dead for 60 minutes. (b) Paul body is inflicted to flames strong enough to cause large portion of his body to begin to burn. A match burning down to his finger tips would not be enough neither would flames licking against him as he ran through a burning building. It would actually take an extended period of time (at least 5-10 minutes) with flames continually burning away at his body. (3) This power does not protect him from injury. A broken arm will take just as long for him to heal from as any other human. His body only recovers from injury if he has actually died. (4) When Paul is reborn, he is in his birthday suit and any objects he may have been previously carrying are destroyed by the fire as are any flammable objects that are within 1-2 feet of his body.
Physical Abilities
General Physical Capabilities: Though Paul looks to be an older person his body works like that of a younger man. Because he is constantly running to the point of exhaustion in order to quiet his mind Paul has an incredible amount of stamina and strength. He is at peek physical conditioning for a person as old as he is since his last rebirth. Fighting Style:Savate Explanation: What began as French style street fighting using kicks and open handed slaps due to the French declaring the closed fist a lethal weapon turned into an organized form of kick boxing. Though it has distanced itself from its original beginning to become a safer form of defense some of the 'dirty' moves still remain. Pros for fighting style: By focusing on kicks the combatant is able to use the stronger muscles in the body to inflict more damage. Because it is not as well-known as many martial arts it sometimes can confuse a defender. Cons for fighting style: While using mostly kicks does provide more strength it allows more opportunities where a person can be knocked off balance by an experienced foe. History Of Your Character (1919-1938) Born in Switzerland in the year 1919, Henri had a very simply and happy childhood. His parents owned a bakery with their living quarters right above it. Everything morning Henri would wake to the smell of dough rising and bread baking in the ovens downstairs. The middle of three children, Henri came a year after his older sister Katrine and about two years before his younger brother Lukas. As Henri entered his teen years and began to learn the art of baking from his parents there were political rumbling going around the world but he didn't really pay attention. Only what happened in his small Swiss village was important. The rest of the world seemed very far away.
(1939) The day after Henri's twentieth birthday things in the world began to come to a head. Germany and Slovakia invaded Poland and over the next few years things grew worse. Nation after nation was drawn into this second world war but Henri and his family remained thankful that they were in a nation like Switzerland. Switzerland was a neutral party and everyone knew they would stay that way.
(1940-1942) The war was growing worse and supplies were becoming difficult to find. The ingredients to make bread had become so expensive and so scarce that Henri's parents were struggling to keep their little shop going. When the crucial rail link through Vichy, France was cut by the Axis the people of Switzerland had no choice but to negotiate with the powers that had them completely surrounded. While they still maintained neutrality, many concessions had to be given to these powerful nations.
(1943) Things in Switzerland were still bad and with only a few news reports filtering in the Wille family came to a difficult decision. Together they were just to many mouths to feed while apart they would all have a better chance to survive. After tearful farewells they family split apart with Henri making his way to Italy in hopes of finding some sort of better conditions. He would never see his family again.
(1944) The conditions in Italy were just as bad if not worse than what Henri had faced in Switzerland. In the city of Romagnano he boarded train number 8017 bound for rural areas to the south. Perhaps there he would find some land untouched by this horrific war. Just after passing Balvano the train began to ascend the galleria delle Amri tunnel. Forced to stop because of rain and overloaded freight cars they all sat in the tunnel waiting to be able to move once again. With all the people pressing up against him things felt so hot but Henri stoically bore the heat and leaned up against a window while letting his eyes close. Maybe if he could just get some sleep they would be moving once he woke up. Suddenly Henri's eyes snapped open to utter silence. The air felt cool on his bare skin as he shakily stood to his feet and looked around in shock and horror. Everyone in the train car was completely still... they were dead! But how could this have happened? And where were his clothes? A cold sweat broke out on Henri's brow and without a rational thought in his head he climbed out a window and ran towards the tunnels exit. After running through fields and woods for what seemed like hours he came to a quiet farm house with clothes flapping in a gentle breeze on the line outside. Slipping over he snatched pants and a shirt that looked like they were close to his size and then continued on his way. His mindless wandering would eventually bring him back to Balvano but he still had no idea exactly what had happened. Things became even stranger for him a few weeks later when he saw a paper with a partial list of those that had died in the tragedy. Apparently some other young man had hitched a ride on the train without buying a ticket and had been misidentified at Henri and because his identification papers had mysteriously disappeared along with his clothes, Henri now found himself a person with no identity in war torn Italy.
(1945) World War II finally came to an end and while it was a momentous time for the rest of the world it was just like any other day for the young man that continued to wander through the country side. With no papers and no identity stealing had become a matter of survival. A loaf of bread here, a lump of cheese there, a pair of shoes somewhere else, and a few coins from someone's pocket. It seemed like there was no light at the end of the tunnel but he refused to just lay down and die. He had somehow survived the tragedy in that train and either that had been for a reason or somewhere out in the cosmos god was laughing at his misfortune.
(1946) Finally fate had begun to smile on the young man. After breaking into a home he discovered a small stash of money and jewels. After quickly fencing the gems he purchased documents on the black market to escape Italy. Reborn as Jacque Henri, a French Citizen, he began the long journey on to his new home nation.
(1947-1950) With no real skills other than being a thief, Jacque set out to make some sort of living doing what he knew how to do. Slowly the robberies grew in size as he joined forces with like minded men but eventually this joining of forces became his undoing. One of the men was caught and he immediately gave up Jacque as one of the top men in their group. After being arrested Jacque was given two choices. Either serve a long sentence in France's delightful prisons or join the French military. With no real future in front of him he accepted the deal and began his training to be a French paratrooper.
(1951-1956) The French military was no picnic and while Jacque did not excel at anything he was good enough to stay out of trouble. He qualified with any of the weapons he needed to qualify with and he was able to at least get passing grades in every area. As the years passed and he came closer to having an opportunity to leave the military combat broke out in Algeria. While performing a mission there, Jacque Henri was killed by friendly fire and his body left on the field of battle while his unit escaped under heavy fire. An hour later he awoke with a sharp intake of breath. Once again he was naked as though he had just been reborn. Escaping from Algeria was no easy task but after several weeks of work he finally arrived back in France. He had hidden away some money before his capture years earlier and after recovering those assets Jacque Henri became Andre Blaise.
(1956-1959) Once again turning to the criminal lifestyle, Andre began to learn the art of Savate while rebuilding his nest egg. He had learned some basic defense while in the military but for a thief like himself his hands were precious tools. Savate focused on kicks which allowed him to protect his hands from injury.
(1960) America, the land of opportunity. Looking for fresh challenges and fresh faces, Andre immigrated to this line of paradise. After passing through immigration inspection Jacque found himself in New York City. What he didn't realize was that New York City was suffering from economic problems and a rising crime rate. It was that rising crime rate the claimed the life of Andre Blaise when he was knifed by a mugger and left lying in a dark alley. However, no longer afraid of death he simply stared up into the sky with a cold smile. He had seen the young muggers face and he would have revenge. A few days later he tracked down his mugger and had his own version of poetic justice. Leaving the young man's body lieing in an alley with a knife in his chest, he assumed the other man's identity. Andre Blaise truly was death but Jack Covington still had a full life to live.
(1961-1969) Over the years Jack lost his foreign accent and picked up the New York style of speech. Fully Americanized he joined in the 'Peace' and 'Free Love' movement. Some of those participating were out to try and change the world for the better while other were like Jack, only in it for the pleasure and enjoyment he could get out of it. While he experimented with everything from alcohol to drugs to sex over the years he finally came to realize that he was getting no satisfaction from it. What did he need to have some sort of happiness?
(1970-1975) Petty theft, robbery, murder... Jack was beginning to feel like if he went down a check list of crimes he would be able to say 'Been there, done that' to most of them. Finally deciding to try a different route Jack headed for California to experience life in the sun. Getting a job as a landscaper, Jack found that he enjoyed the physical side of the work. Putting in new trees and plants while working under the hot sun was something that most people would hate but for Jack it was therapeutic. His life felt like it was finally coming together when he met a blind young woman named Ashley Sullivan and the two fell in love with each other. For two years they had a wonderful life living together but then Ashley was diagnosed with an aggressive form of Leukemia. In a little less than a year Jack found himself standing next to a mound of freshly turned earth that covered the love of his life. Unable to deal with the grief he plunged a knife into his own chest and collapsed next to the grave.
(1976-1980) It was a cruel death that only gave peace from grief for an hour. When Jack had awaken yet again next to the grave of his dearly departed he hadn't known what to do. Throwing himself into his work Jack would wear himself out each day and then go running until the point of exhaustion. Finally he would collapsed into his bed until rising to do it all again the next day. Life truly was nothing but a rat race. People rushing through their lives trying to achieve a goal that most would never reach and even those that did would most likely find it unsatisfactory and so they would start grasping for something else. Unable to associate with people that had known him while he had Ashley, Jack once again reinvented himself. This time he chose the name Silas Sullivan for a twofold purpose. One was to memorialize the woman that had captured his heart and the other was to remind him to keep his distance so that he didn't experience that type of pain again. Wandering through life Silas found himself beginning to battle listlessness. What did he have to achieve? What was there to accomplish in life? He was a man above those around him because his life simply continued on and on. He wasn't a god by any sense of the world but he wasn't human either. What was he?
(1981-1999) The accumulation of wealth had provided excitement if not satisfaction through the early 80's but now he had more than enough money to live on. Toys and stupid trinkets were not an interest so Silas had begun to step away from most of his illegal activities. Occasionally he would see something that he felt would be a challenge and he might take up the old skills but for the most part he had disappeared into the masses of people that moved around America. As the 90's began and progressed, Silas began to see articles in the paper that perked his interest. They had started out as headlines on super market tabloids but now they were appearing in more legitimate sources. Individuals with strange abilities and powers was an item that most people would just laugh at but for Silas it was a ray of hope. Were there others like him? Was he not alone?
(2000) For a man who had lived a life full of excitement, adventure, sadness, and pain it had to be one of the most ironic circumstances possible. Silas had experienced death from war and from crime but this time he had no one to blame but himself... and the slippery soap he had been using in the shower. As he lay crumpled in the shower, life slipping away from a broken neck he felt completely humiliated. Maybe he wasn't above humans like he had thought... maybe he was below them somehow.
(2001-2008) New reports about individuals with powers were becoming more and more common place and as the years passed the nation and even the world as a whole began to recognize that they were something that needed to be dealt with. Finally as 2007 rolled around the Mutant Registration Act passed in America. It was a controversial issue and many mutants were subjected to camp but for the man that had been reborn as Paul McCoy it really wasn't that big deal. His abilities were hidden from the public eye and so he was able to simply stand back as an observer. He had witnessed persecution over the years and as he watched the humans once again persecute those around them he began to realize that the world would always be in turmoil unless something drastic was done. Governments with many men in power always failed but history showed that those nations led by one powerful ruler were often heralded and regarded as something special. Perhaps it was time for not just a national leader but a world leader. It was definitely a thought that needed to be pondered.
(2011) New York City had changed immensely from when Paul had lived there as Jack Covington. Completely modernized and full of a mixture of both humans and mutants it was truly a melting pot and the perfect location to blend in and experiment. The world seemed to have temporarily settled down but how soon would human oppression once again raise its ugly head? Paul had no desire to be a rule in his own right but if he could find the right person to support... perhaps there would be hope for the world. Perhaps with his brother and sister mutants they could accomplish great things. Only time would tell that that was one thing that he had on his side. Roleplay Where did you learn about this site?: Google Do you have any other characters on MRO, if so who: Used to play Luke Jacobs & Jacen King but both of those characters have been mothballed for permanent deactivation because of the amount of time I have been away from MRO. Sample RP: His nose twitched slightly from the scent that was slowly creeping into his room and he rolled over onto his side, still asleep. Slowly his eyes began to flicker open and with a long yawn he sat up and stretched. Most people looked for an apartment that provided an awesome view or great amenities but when he had looked there had been only a few stipulations. He had wanted some place clean, relatively safe and if at all possible, over a bakery. It had taken a month or two to find but now he was living in a place that helped him remember his happy childhood every morning when he woke up.
A quick shave started the morning and then after pulling on sneakers and a sweat shirt to go with his sweat pants he grabbed some cash and headed down to the bakery.
"Good morning Mr. McCoy." The young man at the counter said with a smile as he set a cup of coffee and a plate with a two slices of sour dough bread still warm from the oven on the counter. "Right on time as usual."
"As long as you put the bread in the oven on time, I'll be here on time." Paul McCoy replied with a laugh as he handed over the money for his food, a morning paper, and a couple extra bucks for tip. Turning away Paul walked over to the table in the corner that he frequented and then took his time spreading butter over the still warm bread slices. For the next few minutes he enjoyed a leisurely breakfast while sipping at his black coffee and reading over the paper. The bakery was quiet with only occasional customers coming in this early in the morning but Paul didn't mind. The stillness was a welcome start to the morning as was the physical exertion that would come next.
About half an hour after entering the shop he left and once he had performed a few basic stretches he began to jog down the familiar streets. With the sun just appearing in the sky few people were out on the streets but those that were there were easily recognizable. City workers drove the large street sweepers to get the city ready for the beginning of another busy work day while a few joggers made their way up and down the side walk in their own morning routines. The air was comfortable, not overly hot, but soon Paul felt himself breaking out into a pleasant sweat. It was almost as though he could feel the toxins being purged from his system as he ran. Maybe it was physical feeling or maybe it was all psychological. Either way it didn't matter. What did matter was that it was a beautiful morning and for today at least, Paul was pleased to be alive.
