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.
Lisa looked even less happy with him than usual. He could tell, because her polite smile was set to maximum glow. She stopped talking to the blonde woman in front of her for a fraction of a second. The golden doors shut behind him. Then she continued, completely writing off his existence. This was Lisa’s usual state of equilibrium.
Calley had two styrofoam take-out boxes in a plastic Red Lobster bag, a nine pound restaurant souvenir, and a wad of napkins pressed to his nose. Two of those were precariously (and angrily) held under one arm. The last was keeping his other hand rather busy. The door opening had been achieved by a dexterous maneuvering of his rear. Annoyance to injury: the back of his neck itched. The fact that he couldn’t scratch it right now meant that he couldn’t stop thinking about it, either. It was driving him slowly, slowly insane.
This is why Calley walked to Lisa’s desk, and set his bag and a claw-waving lobster in front of her. Her smile twitched to a halt, like a skipping record, as the two foot long monstrosity avidly claw-clacked insults at her, the woman standing at the desk, and the Sanctuary in general.
“I nee’ ah fish ‘ank an’ a do’tor,” the shifter snorkled through his puffy nose. He scratched his neck luxuriously, and then gave a little wave to the other woman. “ ‘Ello, Boss.”
The aughisky stood tall and proud. His Knight had triumphed (though he’d lost his Lady status in the process). His illusionist had remembered certain advice, given long ago in a library far away. And Scott, no matter his status with reality, was cool. Calley had invited him. By extension, Calley was cool.
The stallion stamped an approving hoof, and shook his mane in parting.
He didn’t mind the offers concerning his own backside. It was just too bad that Maya hadn’t been able to stop her shift. The aughisky wouldn’t have minded prancing back to the Mansion with two ladies on board.
Calley rounded on the witch, one hand covering a suddenly sore cheek. “Croak!” He snapped. Force of habit. “I’m Calley. Thanks for asking.” She really didn’t deserve the glare he shot her way. She’d done a good job of sharing her room with him the past few days, and of not inadvertently killing him. He couldn’t seem to help it, though. The Lady Knight had just physically assaulted her steed, and now Cafas was—
Cafas was...
...here.
His three day toading hadn’t been nearly long enough, when it came to thinking on certain matters.
The nineteen year old delicately slipped a pillow out from under the fainted Princess’ head, and used it to cover certain areas he’d rather not have his roommate seeing. Either of them, really.
Calley grinned, one hand reaching up to grab the kitten back down. “Yeah. Want to pet--?”
>> "Stupid or brave, Slate?"
Suffice it to say that his other hand went up, too. There were several skills that Calley’s former employer had trained into him. Among them: standing very, very still, and making non-threatening eye contact.
“Calley. Stupid. I, ah, see you’ve met my brother.” His lips quirked into his usual habitual smile, contrary to his survival instincts. “I can give you his address if you want. He’s pretty easy to find. I’m, ah, sure he’d love to see--”
The explosion was close, wet, and sharp. Drops of milk splattered across his shirt. Calley felt a piece of glass dig itself into his arm. He flinched, and then steadied himself back up, hands still in the air, and grin in double force.
That gun. Was very close.
The girl’s scream startled his kitten, and—oh shucks—it leapt off his shoulder, and disappeared to relative safety amongst the many feet in the room. Once again, the little girl and her group were the center of attention.
Thanks to Susan, Calley and Twyla's relationship started out with lies. He himself could not be blamed, though. There was nothing untrue about the way his skin excreted in her hands, or the way his clammy toad fingers rested atop of hers.
Their kiss was magic. Gettin' neked magic.
Calley's distinctly more manly hands still rested on hers as he drew back with a grin. "You have my eternal thanks, Princess Twy--"
>> "Wha... CALLEY!"
The shoulder grabbing, the jerking, the spinning, and the in-his-face: not appreciated. It took his eyes a moment to focus on the face in front of him. The yelling face.
>> "What. The hell. Are you doing?!"
"Maya?" He slid into another grin, holding his hands up harmlessly. "Chill, Lady Knight. I don't know what part of this you walked in on, but she kissed me."
Posted by Cheshire on Apr 10, 2010 22:28:24 GMT -6
Mutant God
3,233
18
Sept 24, 2018 19:41:05 GMT -6
Calley
When could they start, indeed.
They had the posters done before dinner. One copy was daringly placed in the heart of the Order's supply territory, on the same run in which they brazenly pilfered their dinner. Later, clutching their ill-gotten soft serve ice cream cones, they (mostly Katrina) talked Lisa into letting them use the Sanctuary's copier. It's color copier. (Katrina was good.) This greatly increased their poster productivity. In short order, before their cones were even gone, they had a respectable stack of posters. They divvied it in half: Kat would get the Mansion and the Mansionly area, Calley would take care of the Sanctuary area.
Movies were then pilfered, and rec room couches equipped with mounds of blankets and pillows. Random other residents were dragged in, and made to share in popcorn. Movies turned to Apples to Apples, Apples to Apples turned to taking turns changing into PJs in the bathroom. Then came good nights, and sleep.
Then came troubles the likes of which not even Katrina's mother would fathom. Calley woke up the next morning, and stretched his claws towards the ceiling.
The tournament's first combatant came as no surprise to any who had seen the refrigerator get cleared off, or the flier posted. At the blonde teen's feet, a red fox kit played with a magnet: it tumbled and leapt, paw swatted and fell over, in a clear display of agility training.
[/b] Pokémon (or Pokémon/Trainer pairs) will be matched up in tournament-style fights. Only Pokémon-style attacks are allowed.
Ribbon Contest. At the end of the day, the Pokémon who looks, acts, and attacks the most like its video game counterpart will be awarded the coveted Cool Contest Ribbon.[/ul] Rules:
3) Things should make sense IC. Your character should have an IC interest in this, IC ability to make a Pokémon, and IC reason to be there. This thread will take place on the Mansion Grounds and be a legit part of the site timeline; it is not FanFiction. IC fliers will be posted in the Mansion, Sanctuary, and various places around New York, so if your character would actually do this, they'll have a reason to know about it.
3) Your Pokémon should be able to do appropriate Pokémon-styled attacks. Both looks and function will be judged. Completely non-Pokémon-styled attacks may result in disqualification.
4) Please no Adapteds in the battle, since that would pretty much ruin the fun. Places as spectators or Ribbon Judges are open--work things out with Kat and Calley if you'd like to slip your Adapted in. [/ul] IC and OOC Timeline:
April 10 (both IC and OOC): Fliers will be posted at the Mansion, Sanctuary, and various places around NYC by Katrina and Calley, advertising the fight. Interested players should sign up on this OOC announcement and/or IC, by posting their character's reaction to a flier.
[/li][li]April 10-May 1st (IC)/April 10-April 17(OOC): Training! Please use this IC/OOC time to train: get your Pokémon put together, work on attacks, and prepare to be the very best! Solos or short threads are highly encouraged.
[/li][li]May 1st (IC)/April 17 (OOC): Tournament, start! Katrina and Calley will announce the battle line ups, and kick off the thread. Posting order/format to be announced, after we see how many people sign up. Players who aren't able to post for 3+ days will likely "forfeit" the match to their competitor, to avoid inactive people stalling the overall tournament.[/li][/ul]
If this works well and is appropriately awesome, it might become an annual IC competition. In which case... this year's Champion, if they're still an active player, will need to defend their title next year.
The man opened the door. He closed it, quite a bit faster.
"Let's be civilized about this, Mr. Mitchell." Came the muffled voice from the other side.
"I paid."
"Last month, Mr. Mitchell. You paid last month. I've simply come to collect your current insurance premium. Why don't you open the door, and go get your check book? We value loyal customers." The rubble across the street, brought low by a girl in a pink aura, attested to the other half of that story.
Mr. Mitchell got his checkbook. The panther man folded the page he tore out, and tucked it lightly into his vest pocket. His whiskers fanned in a polite smile under his bifocal lenses. "A pleasure doing business with you, Sir."
His short fingers made a claw tick next to William Mitchell (and wife's) address. A tick was a good mark. The X's next to other names made Mr. Mitchell close his door, and his checkbook, with relief.
Calley--called Miles in this form, in a token attempt to keep his more human form clean of certain associations--saw no reason to deal with the delinquents himself. They all knew the consequences, by this point. He'd been quite clear with Lori that he wasn't going to be smashing heads for her. Happily, she'd agreed. He had no particular moral qualms with turning the list of names over to the smashers: he just didn't care to do it himself. The panther man was clearly made of more sophisticated stuff than that. His tail twitched in a graceful arc as he moved to the next building. He rang the doorbell. Once. Twice. Knocked, three times. His rounded ears twitched at the noises inside. They could have at least muted the TV, instead of just turning the volume down. He gave them an X for effort.
Tracking down the particular black panther he'd used to make this form originally had been, in a word, annoying. Last year, Calley had been in the habit of zoo hopping whenever he was bored, and copying as many forms as he could. Almost all of those forms had been erased when he'd fought a certain X-Man outside of the former King Pharmaceuticals. His black panther had been straight up killed in the fight. That left the panther man chimera useless, until he regained the proper basic puzzle piece to fit back into it. And trained it basic to mastery. Which took significantly longer than finding the right zoo, for the record. He'd done the actual training back at the Mansion, after arranging for someone in the Sanctuary to feed his lobster while he was gone. Something about being trapped in one form in Isabel's turf still didn't feel healthy to him, even if they were on the same team now. The beribboned girl had yet to retract her gracious stabbing offer.
When he'd finally been able to shift back to human, he'd found that his lobster was still alive, and Lori wanted to see him.
Shhhhhick.
Who runs a knife along a brick wall. Honestly. That just couldn't be good for it.
The panther man's tail tip twitched as he came to a stop in the alleyway. An excellent shortcut to the next block, when unoccupied. "Gentleman."
"You're from that Sanctuary, right?"
An assenting bob of his ears. "Problem?"
"Yeah. You threatened my grandmother."
"That is a problem." The panther man raised his clipboard. "Her name and address?"
The teen behind him answered by tapping his baseball bat against the ground. The one in front drew his knife into a more standard position. The panther man produced a kitten from his pocket. It's amazing what people will instinctively hold, if you hand it to them. Particularly if it has charming blue eyes.
"Wha--?" The kitten stretched out its paw to the nice man's knife arm. Then the kitten cutely shifted to Bengal tiger. Knife and teenager went down, quite significantly overbalanced. "Wup--!"
Miles adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. His ear twitched as he glanced back at the bat welder. He looked rather on edge.
Perhaps it was the cat that the panther man was suddenly holding. The ginger tom murred as it dangled by its scruff. This cat was bigger than the kitten.
The kitten had become a rather large tiger.
"We didn't threaten your grandmother too, did we?" He asked, with the utmost of concern.
"N--no man. Just his."
"That's so kind of you, then, to donate your money towards her premium this month."
"Y-yeah. I--what?"
The tiger rumbled either a purr or a growl as the knife wielder tried to unpin his arms. When the panther man left the alley, he was tucked a wad of bills into his vest pocket. He checked the next address on his clipboard, and set off down the street.
