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.
>> "Well, I guess that makes you the first goddess and the first film starlet I've painted. Excuse me for saying so, but you appear much younger than I anticipated for a goddess."
"I am just one incarnation of the divinity" she explained patiently, watching him work. She could not see the picture, but she could see the movement of his hands, and some of the colors. It just peaked her curiosity. "Divinity has no age. I am divinity made flesh, and flesh has to age. But I am still young, and I have a lot to do."
Places to see, people to meet. Gifts to accept.
"Do you watch films from India?" she knew Bollywood was not as great in the USA as it was in her own country. Such a pity. Hollywood never quite measured up.
>> "Well then, it's an honor to pain the All-Goddess. So... Mahadevi... How does a goddess acquire the wealth for a suite like this?"
The painter started a conversation. Conversation being the oldest form of entertainment, the Goddess did not object to it; it was better than spending hours sitting quietly. Gods and goddesses had the privilege of getting bored and taking it out on humans, who usually ended up paying the price. Mahadevi liked to think of herself as merciful.
"People present me gifts of their choice" she might as well educate the American "It is not always something of material value, but that makes no difference in the eye of a Devi. I also appear in films, and then people pay to see it in theaters."
Bollywood was generous like that to its gods and goddesses.
>>"Not at all. Your pose right now will allow me to perfectly capture your beauty. Would it be wrong to ask for a name I could call you, your highness?"
Well at least he was polite. He lacked the proper words for addressing a goddess, but as far as she knew, the English language was pretty low on those to begin with.
"They call me Mahadevi, the All-Goddess" she supplied patiently "People address me by many names, depending on which face of the Goddess they would like to pray to. Any of those, of course, is a part of the whole, and acceptable."
And if he did not know his Hindu mythology... well, he could just call her Goddess.
>> "Oh, I've got plenty of those, miss. So, how would you like your portrait? Atop your cloud of pillows?"
She thought about that for a moment. The painter certainly seemed at ease with the situation; then again, artists usually did. She let is slide that he addressed her as "miss".
"That is how we are usually depicted" she answered carefully, jewels jingling as she moved her arms and head. She looked at the easel and the paints he was unpacking.
"... would you suggest something else?"
He was the artist, after all. Even the divine respect the artists. Especially the divine.
>> "My name's Nathaniel, your holiness. If you are ready, I would be honored to paint your portrait."
Well, at least they found an artist that knew how to approach a goddess with respect. Of course his manner was not perfect, but she would let that slide, he was an American after all. With a small nod of her head, the Goddess motioned to him to take his place.
"We accept your offering of talent and skill" she announced, hands slightly shifting.
She watched him set up his things. There was really nothing special about him; nothing to tell her what kind of a person he really was. Then again, did it matter?
The portrait was not Mahadevi's idea. It was just one of the things on the long lists people around her seemed to be miraculously equipped with; whoever came up with 'how to manage a goddess' checklists forgot to update them for the 21st century. Hence the painting, instead of a photograph. What a drag.
The Goddess sat on a pile of silk pillows, jeweled and painted and ready to sit still for a few hours. She was excellently trained in sitting still. It went with being divinity.
Her old and faithful servant opened the door and escorted the painter in. Mahadevi tilted her head just enough to take a look; then she nodded in approval. He was allowed to enter the room, and the servant shuffled away to return with tea later on.
>>"First, I want to take some time to announce our lovely opening act! You've seen her before, you've requested to see her again, I'd say give her a hand, but she's got plenty, so applaud instead! MAHADEVI~!!!"
The Goddess walked into the arena, chin raised high, taking in the crude cheers and yells of the crowd in the same fashion she used to take in their polite praises, a million years ago. She used to be Sarasvatí, once upon a time, she used to be Laksmí the Lover. But not here, not anymore. Here, she was Kali and she was Durga, dark from sun and dirt but proud as ever, holding sharp objects in all the seven hands left to her since she found the dark haven of the Pit. Roach used to tell her she should grow it back. She used to laugh.
It was a joke, after all.
>>"I give you, the infamous 4th street raiders! These ex military men thought they could take down one of my radio towers in the city, and sell it for scrap! Isn't it a lovely coincidence that between them, they have seven arms?! I got to thinking, and come to the lovely conclusion that I had the perfect match for them! What do you think, my family?! Are you ready for this?!"
She was ready. The men were obviously not. Kali turned in a wide arc, brandishing her weapons for the pleasure of the audience. She was, first and foremost, a performer. She thrived on the cheers almost as much as she lived on the food it provided. Four men with seven arms fighting one Goddess with seven arms. It was still a joke.
"Madana, Deva of love, in solid form once more. Perhaps Kamadeva taste better on your tongue. Ananga and Atanu don't quite fit well at the moment my lady. It would be a pleasure to spend more time with you.but I don't wish to interupt you more than you care to be."
The Goddess' eyes narrowed. Kamadeva? She had never met another divinty in the flesh, but she did know everything about them, everything a goddess made flesh can learn in her long years of worship and training... ... and she had never seen Kamadeva like this before.
But that introduction said a whole lot about why he was still kissing her hand.
"Adarsh" she called out "The Goddess wishes to retire to entertain a guest. Kindly send everyone home, and bring us refreshments."
The old man, lingering at the door, bowed and left the room to take care of her orders. Mahadevi turned back to Kamadeva and contemplated him for a few moments before she spoke.
Posted by Mahadevi on Jun 25, 2012 21:34:58 GMT -6
Delta Mutant
132
1
Feb 26, 2015 17:11:45 GMT -6
>>" This is true. And why shouldn't it be so. I would normally demand seating worthy of me, but the warmth of your presence renders the comfort of a throne inept. I've come to call upon you. Not to worship, but know one another. It is rare, to find another of our kind in this land. "
Perfectly painted eyes widened ever so slightly. The man did not only speak her language, but he spoke it fluently and with the ease and eloquence of someone born in her native land.
Kisses were bestowed upon her fingers, and the Goddess allowed him, although she was not entirely sure why. It took her a few seconds to speak.
"I am Mahadevi, the All-Goddess, Devi made flesh for the joy of the world, the Eight Hands of Charity and Destiny, the One Who Dances the Dance of Life."
Posted by Mahadevi on Jun 25, 2012 20:19:01 GMT -6
Delta Mutant
132
1
Feb 26, 2015 17:11:45 GMT -6
The Goddess arched an eyebrow. Then another. The man who strode into the shrine as if he owned it was nothing like the previous people who came though that door. Not by a long shot. He was dressed properly, he moved with grace... and he was definitely not a human.
In this godless country, he was definitely... something.
Mahadevi held her perfect balance sitting on her throne as he took a seat next to her. One hand twitched ever so slightly; that was some nerve this man had, even for a god. She extended another hand gracefully towards him and he kissed it, his touch surprisingly warm on her skin. Whatever he was, he was very real.
The Goddess tilted her head to get a better look at him.
"Only a Deva can take a seat next to a Devi" she announced slowly in Hindi. Just because the man had the make of a god, that did not mean he was one on the inside. This was New York, after all.
Posted by Mahadevi on Jun 24, 2012 22:00:17 GMT -6
Delta Mutant
132
1
Feb 26, 2015 17:11:45 GMT -6
The stream of worshippers, followers and visitors had been growing steadily in the past few days. The slow trickle of people arriving one by one, half out of curiosity and half out of devotion, grew to be a strong and constant line, piling up gifts at her feet and taking up most of her time that was not taken up by more important matters. Even better, more and more people showed up who actually knew how to worship a goddess. Of course, they were still not quite there yet, but they were getting better.
Mahadevi sat on her throne; she told Adarsh to allow her half an hour of rest and not allow anybody in. One hand lifted a cup of tea to her mouth; the sweet scent of jasmine soothed her senses. Perfect.
>> "You stand between a Deva and Devi who need to speak, i don't suggest you stand there for long, but for your bravery I will speak your name to the Mahadevi as a brave and true follower. What is your name?"
The teacup stopped halfway to the ruby-colored lips as the Goddess arched an eyebrow. Someone was out there demanding entrance in the voice of a god.
Except, this land had no gods. And no goddesses, but her. Mahadevi leaned forward on her throne with mild curiosity.
One hand moved gracefully and took the card; another slipped it into one of the many folds of her shining dress. She considered it as an offering, and a sign of respect; the man gave her his name, written down, and names had power. Also, he was not too hard to like.
>>“That is my business card to my comic shop. Maybe you will grace it with your presence one day?”
"Maybe I will" she said with the faintest of smiles in the corner of her lips, and waited till he was gone before walking back to her throne.
The young man did not know the first thing about worshipping a goddess. But still, for the fist time since she arrived to this godforsaken country, Mahadevi felt like she might not have a terrible time.
>>“I…I’m NOT entirely sure she would be that flattered, but it is a lovely offer nonetheless. But…maybe we can at least be friends? I know a lot about the city, I can show you around if you ever need guide.”
The Goddess just got friendzoned.
Of course she did not know that; she had never been in that territory of human relationships before. It was completely uncharted. She looked at the hand the young man offered as a gesture of... frinedship?
Maybe he did not quite understand what he was being offered. It could be a language problem; or it could be simply cultural, he just has been in the USA too long to fully comprehed the significance of a goddess offering him her affections.
The hand moved down from his face to take his in a graceful handshake.
"I look forward to meeting you again, then, Akshay Malik." she nodded. Even goddesses know when to take a step back "Next time you visit, bring your chosen with you. Maybe I will like her too."
The young man responded as most young men did; with confusion and a whole lot of blushing. There was nothing wrong about that. It was normal. Natural. Expected. After all, how should young men react when a goddess declares her interest in taking them to her bed?
They do not even know what they are in for. Grace, pride and eight arms translate well into India's less often discussed arts.
He said he was seeing someone. Was that English for a wife? A betrothed, maybe? Another goddess? Doubtful. The Goddess smiled a kind smile.
"I did not say I would keep you." she clarified for the sake of the young man who obviously lost control of his native tongue "I am not allowed to marry mortal men. But I would take you to my bed. As a compliment to you, and your chosen."
Because, clearly, what woman would not be honored by a goddess bedding their man?
Posted by Mahadevi on Jun 11, 2012 19:44:23 GMT -6
Delta Mutant
132
1
Feb 26, 2015 17:11:45 GMT -6
>>“Then I guess I’m mistaken. Just, I guess it seems like quite a burden to carry by yourself. I guess my curiosity just got the better of me. I apologize if I offended you in any way.”
The Goddess tilted her head, looking, for the first time since he walked through the door, really looking at the young man in front of her. He was... different. She could sense scepticism from him, she had been sensing that a lot since she arrived to the USA, but what was truly amazing was that he did not show it. He was respectful, and honest, and even though she knew he had doubts and his gift was more courtesy than devotion... he still treated her like the goddess she was. In his own way.
Rising from her throne, grateful she got to stretch her legs, the Goddess descended gracefully down the steps to stand in front of him. One hand moved, reaching under his chin, while the others held their shifting position, framing her delicate figure.
"You are a kind sould, Akshay Malik" the Goddess announced with dignity "I would have you as a lover."