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.
Sylus approached with caution at the sight of Zilla & company's note. It would not bode well to stay within arm's reahc of a super-powered hit squad. He snatched up the letter with deft fingers and paced back to a reasonable distance of around five feet. From his new, slightly less dangerous position, he began to peruse the paper's contents.
'Dear Jackass......'
Soot chuckled as he began to read. The author's style was blunt, lacking finesse but easily fitting into the group's badass style of intimidation.
"Well you gentlemen certainly have a way with introductions. ... Dear Jackass.... Very subtle. Who taught you to write Bruce Willis?"
He took a minute to finish looking over the trio's proposition. It certainly was convincing, though not because of its threats. Beyond the obvious intimidation tactics, the group had really sweetened the pot. Sylus knew he could not stay on the streets forever. Eventually he would need a home and a somewhat steady income. These people wanted to use him for his grisly talents. They wished to pay him for his holy rites.
The offer given was almost to good to be true...... almost. There had to be stipulations put into place. Even with such a lucrative arrangement placed upon the table, Sylus did not just lay down for any man.... or lizard. He would not be so easily tamed. Their was pride and pietous devotion to be upheld. Sylus flipped the page over and commited the phone number and P.O. box to memory. With a flick of is fingers, the letter cascaded down into eager waiting flame.
"You may write with the elegance of a caveman with a stick, but you propose an interesting offer. Our agreement will come with two conditions. They are non-negotiable. The first is simple and, in its own way, standard in these transactions. Do not turn on me. If I am approached or ambushed at your little dropbox. Or if the police or some overblown assassin ends up outside my front door, your little deniable asset will become a giant poisoned thorn in your side. Scora will laugh with glee as I sear your souls upon the coals of my vengeance."
The first condition ended with a snarl of malice. Its tone refelcted the anger held in Soot's tense body. The smoke swirling around the ceiling dipped almost imperceptibly along with his emotions. He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again it was with only a hint of his maelstrom of emotions.
"My second condition is that you do not interfere with my actions here. I will not have an entire ritual prepared and then ruined by my new..... allies. I gaurantee not only my own escape but also the death of everyone in this room. Excusing my present company of course. As an added note, you have issued you warning so i will issue mine. I would like to inform you that you are dealing with a man who fears not the punishments issued out by men, only those by the divine. Thus, your threats mean little to me, but your money and business are much appreciated. In short, we have a deal, but this will be an equal relationship. I am no one's servant but my god"
A broad smile opened upon his face, at odds with the intense situation. Smoke descended to envelope Soot's right hand as he stuck it forward and finished his counterproposal.
just wanted to let yall know that my posting will be erratic and somewhat unreliable for a little bit while i get back into the swing of a busy RL. I plan on getting posts done once or twice a week when possible and unfortunately my cbox presence will be minimal. This is mostly because the box hates me and i cant get in half the time anyway.
I hope to catch up with all of you when i can, Dont forget about me ;D
Soot's newfound student lapped up information like a dog at the water bowl, and while he truly did not know if Guglin was processing and retaining the sacred knowledge given to him, Sylus still had to believe. At the least the lttle green man was nodding and putting forth enough questions to keep the conversation going.
At the mention of the destructive properties of fire Sylus stood, kicking some dirt and leaves around until there was a small bare patch on the ground in front of them. It was around 3 or 4 feet across and the same distance away from Gug. As he spoke again, he began to gather sticks of several sizes, creating a bundle in his arms.
"Fire does burn. It's blaze can briing down cities and forests, it can sear fleash and bone, taking lives easily as a gun. But thats only half of its potential Guglin. Those are only its destructive capabilities." Soot stuck the ends of his bundle of wood into the dirt until he had a reasonable teepee shape. built in the center of his swept up area. The excess fuel he dumped off to the side and with the basic shape in place he knelt with bark in his hands and pulled out a simple knife from his cargo shorts. With this he began to strip away fine shavings of wood from the bark. " Just like Scora, fire achieves two ends. It creates as well as destroys. Humans use flame to make cars and planes, guns, homes, energy for all of our products. Even this knife needed fire to become the way it is now."
With the scene set up for his little demonstration, Sylus reached into his pcoket once more for the can of aerosol deodorant in his pocket. He sprayed it lightly over the kindling, and with the use of a trusty bic, flames soon licked up over the wood. "But even in its simplest form, fire creates light and heat, it can cook foods and purify water. It sustains life as much as it takes it away. Humanity would be nowhere if not for the heat of a fire in winter, or its light to ward of larger animals. Fire can be controlled, used for the right purposes. It deserves our caution and our respect, but it is a tool just like any other."
He warmed his hands by the fire, trying to come up with a way to explain alternate universes to someone like Guglin. He now understood with monumental clarity why most parents avoided trying to describe what heaven was or where it is. It would seem a vague answer works best. But first a qusetion. "Its hard to tell you where Scora is, because even if you walked for the rest of your life, you would never get there." He ran his hands through the column of smoke wafting up form the small campfire. "So first tell me this. Where does the smoke go Guglin? After it disappears from view?"
At first sight of Sylus's charge for the door, the pair standing just outisde the door did the reasonable thing and got the hell out of his way. The gentleman had quickly moved himself and his female friend from Soot's just before a fateful impact. This was fortunate, considering that the woman was seemingly as useful as a deer in the headlights. Oddly enough, the couple fit together like a stag and a doe. She was a lithe beauty, with midnight hair and a sense of innocence about her. Her bright blue eyes reflected not only the flames in the room, but the fear in her soul. He, however, seemed the picture of confidence. The gentleman was slightly taller than Sylus and had the build of a man who saw the gym at least once a week. The intelligence and determination behind his eyes said it all: This was not a man to be taken lightly.
Even worse, he was quick to react. A man who ould work under pressure. Hauling these two to the door of Scora's forge would not be easy, even with the will of a man gone mad. But this mission would not be forsaken by a man such as Sylus, even at the risk of death or imprisonment. There was everlasting punishment for someone who failed a god. So instead of running past these two, past the fire and pain and retribution, he stopped and turned. His body now stood in the way of the only exit from this dismal place. With flames and smoke at his prey's back, there was nowhere for them to run. He crouched low in the hallway, trying to find more oxygen while centering his balance.
His voice rang clearly, even above the roar of the blaze.
" I am afraid this is as far as the two of you will go. Your intrusion upon my little ceremony was unexpected. A wrench in my plans. So I must move to the overtly risky Plan B. Tonight this basement becomes your tomb, and it is my god given task to become its keeper. Even if I must burn with you, neither of you will leave this place tonight. It will be a tragic and grisly death, but take solace in the fact that it is all for the greater good. I am the scorched right hand of Scora, and by his name and the glory of his work, I swear none shall pass this line." Desperation and insanity leaked from Sylus's very being. What came next would be more than a battle for the souls in this building, it would be a battle for the favor of a god. And in a fight with those risks, it would take the will of a hero to topple this fanatic. The tension in the basement rose with the flames in anticipation of the brawl to come.
Kade let out a shout of pride and battle-born determination as his tonfa connected with Aura's torso. The force of his blow rocked her back, beyond his thrown cloud. Lesser opponents would have been down briefly, open for another attack while they reeled from pain. But this was no ordinary fighter. Soot knew that Aura would come at him again and again, a whirling maelstrom of weaponry and malice. When she next spoke, he detected not a hint of fear or anguish in here voice. Instead he heard only confidence, spite, and a random bit of joy.
This woman was a warrior, hardened over many fights. Driven by the love of the battlefield. Soot had seen her blood soaked form in battle, a crazed smile on her face. Over time he had come to think that smile as a love for war. A need to test ones hand against others. to strive for the top of the dog-pile no matter what monsters got in your way.
Standing across from her, Kade knew his speculations were true. That was why so many people had only terror in their eyes when they faced Aura on this dirt floor. She was not fighting for food or power, not even for survival. She fought to win and little more.
He gave a nod of acknowledgment at her insight into his religion. Though slightly flawed, it did show one valuable fact: She knew his reasons for battle as well. It was one more piece to the psychological battle that played out along the physical. Another mental attack.
A physical one soon followed, as Aura charged through the smoke. Her right arm extended and aimed for his right side. The counterattack came quicker than Kade thought it would, and though he began to move away from whatever device she had chosen for this strike, it was not quick enough. Sharp pain and warm blood came from his shoulder, a cut of some type registering in his mind. Soot bit through the pain and brought his arm up to grab her around her now extended forearm. With a twist of his hips, he used the momentum of her attack to his advantage and proceeded to fling her towards the nearest wall.
"Well that stings," He said with disdain as he ripped a bit of his wardrobe and began to tie a tourniquet just above his new wound. The cut was a little deeper than he would have liked, and may give him trouble without the help of his makeshift first aid. "But no matter Aura. For you were only partially right. Scora will not have bits and pieces of me, but all of me. Every speck of energy i have left will go to him! Beat me, bruise me, cut me, break me into little pieces, or even burn me alive, it does nothing. You can destroy this body until it is unrecognizable but you cannot truly harm me. What you see is only a vessel. I reside inside, a brightly burning soul. This is what my lord will collect, after yours of course."
It was impossible to tell what Ari was thinking behind the heavily tinted lenses of her eyewear. The young lady's dark attire hid her emotions and intentions as easily as it did her skin. At least her mouth remained visible, raising up in a small smile that did not get past Sylus's analytical gaze. Ari's attitude and wardrobe made a decent social mask, but at least there were still faults in her well planned defense. Still, some part of her showed an air of confidence, a bit of pride that added to her air of mystery. Soot guessed this was only one weapon in her arsenal.
He knew better than most that things like deceit and mystery were tools just like any other. They just crafted human response instead of inanimate material. Playing with others emotions as well as ones own could grant a level of control that most ignored or were oblivious to. Mystery made you unpredictable. People paid attention to a man that showed no emotion or agenda. Sometimes even feared him. Everyone is afraid of the possibilities of the unknown.
Aria was giving information bit by bit. She was cautious with her knowledge and her trust. An admirable and useful quality. After all knowledge is power and trust is occasionally a liabilty. She mentioned her destination: a shooting range. Not the likely answer from a girl her age. Even more odd she chose to go for archery. Choosing a bow and arrow over gunpowder and a barrel.
"Archery? Little outdated isn't it? Most people use these new things called guns. More bang for your buck, literally."
Soot lifted the cigar to his lips and flicked a bic to life. He puffed near silently until the tip was hot and fuming properly. He breathed out in a perfect ring, not hard given his god-given talents. Glancing once more at her large headgear, Sylus removed the stogie from his mouth and spoke again.
"Unless thats what your hoping to avoid." He said, pointing to her ear implements with his cigar. His tone stayed casual. No need to sound like he was fishing for information.
The young monster nodded eagerly; excited and humbled at the information given to him. Sylus was glad to meet this little mutant. Or perhaps relieved to finally have someone who was willing to listen to his psychotic delusions without the threat of imminent death. Ever since he had reemerged from the flames of his former home, Soot had an urge to tell his religious journey to the world. He wanted radios and televisions to broadcast Scora's messages across the globe.
If everyone knew that the world was gonna be harsh and painful, that the hard times were only recycling into the next stage of Creation. If they could live with the knowledge that destruction and death were inevitable, but not permanent. Then people could change. The overblown materialism, the false happiness that comes from whoever has the newest ipod, could dissolve away. Humans could once again enjoy the stars on a clear night, the warmth of a fire on the hearth, a faint breeze on a hot day, the joy of being held when your world was collapsing, or even just the taste of a good cigar. The everyday citizen passes by these everyday miracles without even a regret at the very moment they wasted. Not Sylus. Each step for him was fueled by the comfort that if he died today, at least he used his last 24 hours well. Whether he had spent it lying on the grass with no one around, or sweating while a whole crowd burned down around him, at least he had lived.
Yet if Sylus spent his days trying to change the mind of the dying world around him, he would get nowhere fast. Heretic, lunatic, con artist. Whatever label he was given it all meant the same thing: rejection. The teaching of Scora would be forsaken by the modern society. So if a true believer were to be made, it would have to be fresh mind, uninhibited by the opinions around it. It would have to be someone who could be raised on a whole new belief system, a blank slate waiting to be etched into.
From where he was sitting, Guglin looked like one eager bit of marble waiting to be sculpted. Perhaps this was the grand plan. Perhaps the martian could be the second of many: a worker for the Forge, a worshipper of the Cycle.
So as he told the story of how Scora molded and kilned life into a dark universe, he too lay his hands upon a forge all his own. A forge of words, long and mystical, that sought to change student into master, master into believer.
"Guglin, everything you have ever seen and so much more, was forged by Scora. The earth and sky, rock and river, even life and death itself. He is the master of all things, a god. With each day, he renews existence as we know it. Letting some things die out so that others may live on. He cares not for good or evil, just the Cycle. As long as the Cycle of Destruction and Creation continues, so does life. Without his efforts to maintain balance, we would be no more. Humanity would see these lessons as harsh and violent. And maybe they are right. But as long as Scora's Fire needs fuel, I will move beyond the moral restrictions of humanity. At any cost, i will keep the fires going."
The teenager's reaction to her rescue surprised Soot. She whipped her arm away from his and began to go through the routine of checking the state her gear. She adjusted her dark tinted ski goggles and made sure that her thick headphones were properly in place. Finally, she reached briefly into the pack that was on her back as if to assure herself that nothing had been taken. She seemed rather protective of its contents. Unless she was carrying plastic explosives or a box of cubans, Sylus could not care less. The young woman was either paranoid, or had no trust in others. All in all, the whole routine seemed more fitting of a victim of assault rather than somehow with a fear of crowds. Or more likely, a fear of being touched.
He leaned back against the alley wall and took her verbal gratitude with a small smile. Reaching slowly into his pocket, he pulled out a cigar from its tube and held it briefly under his nose, taking in the aroma of tightly wrapped tobacco. The young lady's vocals lilted upon the air once more when she uttered her name. Her voice had the same quality as her pale skin. It was softspoken and a little tentative, as if he verbage was exposed to sunlight about as much as her epidermis.
"I am Aria." An uncommon name if Sylus had ever heard one. Yet this he took in stride. There were more peculiar things in his world of religious dedication and destruction than the occasional unique name.
"Well Aria, you can call me Sylus. I've got to say, you don't seem like the type of person to be walking around the crowded sidewalks of New York. This city's streets can not only be confusing, but a little menacing at times as well." Soot said casually.
Not that he had been living NYC for very long, but he had lived in the back alleys of Phoenix for a good while. And he had been on the lam for a couple of years now. One city's cold concrete was the same stone as another. Hard and unyielding, a durable monument to the life of its citizens.
One may think that someone who could fly through the air, slip under doors, around people, and generally become an evasive master, would not be walking down a busy street in the busiest city of them all: New York. Why walk when you can fly? The truth of the matter is that even a superhuman craves a bit of routine. At times Sylus needed to be a part of the crowd, just one spec of sand in a great dune. In his new world of religious dedication and morbid destruction, it was necessary to fit in moments of relative normalcy.
Not to mention that these casual strolls along the city streets gave him ample time to scout and plan for his sacred fiery rituals.
The crowds were surprisingly dense that day, given the somewhat stifling heat (made worse by the mass of bodies), and the normally less busy block that he was in. Sylus glanced briefly into the shops, restaurants, department stores, and internet cafes. He noted the size and popularity of each establishment, cataloging the prospective targets into his tightly packed memory. Halfway down the block he began to notice a divergent flow in the movement of the pedestrians on the sidewalk. There seemed to be a rock set securely in place in this river of people.
As Soot approached this disturbance on his journey, he finally saw a young woman who was clearly disturbed by the throng of people around her. She seemed to twitch and flinch at each bit of contact that touched her extensive wardrobe. The outfit that the pale teenager had one was probably unbearable in the summer. She had on not only pants and a long sleeve shirt, but also big, ear covering headphones and what looked like ski goggles. This ensemble was not the weirdest thing that Sylus had seen in NYC, but given the time of year, it raised more than a couple of eyebrows.
Seeing a damsel in apparent distress provoked the same chivalrous reaction it always did for him, and, with some considerable shoving through the crowd, he grabbed lightly unto her wrist and pulled her into a nearby alley.
Shade cascaded down from the tall buildings on either side of them, and the walls cut off not only the oppressing heat, but the dull roar of the mob outside. Now that they had more air to breathe, Soot could not help but feed his curiousity and concern.
"You okay there? You were just a bit short of catatonic out there. Looked like someone had thrown you into a pit of hissing snakes."
Guglin's description of his ancestral mountain was.....well.....useless. Tall and wide described every mountain in the world. Even worse, when the little green skinned man came up with a name for it, it was one that Sylus had never heard of in his life. Given the relatively small extent of Guglin's grasp on the human language, that specific mountain name probably did not even exist. Yet even with the futility of it, the imp's answer brought a broad smile to Sylus's face. He could not help liking the tiny monster, faults and all.
Soot chose to ignore the topic of Guglin's upbringing; sensing that even with hours of time at his disposal, he would get nowhere. Instead he chose to continue on with a strain of conversation that was not only much more interesting, but served his goals as well. When asked about the great Tender of the Forge, many answers were ready to spring from his lips. Still he hesitated. One thing stood in the way of Guglin's conversion to Scora's religion. One very pertinent, and rather difficult question.
How does one teach theology to an extra terrestrial?
Sylus decided the best course of action was to take the lesson slow, steady, and simple. He would walk Guglin through it step by step. The whole situation created an unusual problem. Most humans were raised into a life of religion, and over time they simply understood things like gods, afterlife, good, evil, just through interaction and assimilation. In a way, theology was nurtured into boys and girls of all ages, and with a simple mind like Guglin's, this process may be just a step off from telling a blind man what the color purple was.
Soot chose to answer a question with a question. And a rather basic one at that. He first had to get the martian to understand the concept of Creation. From creation he could go to Creator, and from creator he could speak of the nature of Scora. Just a broad overview of course. The grisly details would come later.
"Well little one, I suppose the easiest way to explain Scora is to get you to figure it out yourself. I will guide you, but all of the important answers, the true revelations, will have to come from within you."
Sylus lightly grasped the green skinned arm of his new student, looking upon the dark world around them.
"Guglin, have you ever wondered where the birds come from? Or maybe the trees and stones? Or perhaps even yourself? Have you ever looked upon this park in which you live, and asked yourself 'How did all of this get here?'"
A shout filled with fright and concern told Sylus that someone had walked in on the blaze that was slowly filling the apartment building's basement. The concern came from a young female. She was worried for him, afraid that he may become consumed in the flames. Ironic, considering she was the one in real danger. Soot was not troubled by the heat around him. Scora had given him the gift to escape the fire, even if he was standing right in the middle of it. He reached deep inside himself for that gift, one tiny fraction of the power of a god. Yet he found nothing. His body did not dissolve into the air. He did not flow with the current of the rising heat around him.
Sylus stared briefly down at his physical, mortal body; a look of shock on his face and fear in his eyes. Fear of a divine punishment. The burning smite of an angry deity. For the first time in years he did not feel at peace within the ember he had made. The warmth around him, once womb-like, now pressed down on him as if he were simmering in a covered pot. Terror slowly filled his heart.
Scora had forsaken him.
Images of the first blaze, the fire that had ruined the skin of his hands and took the life of Katherine, flashed through his mind. Walls with dancing firelight, the sharp pain of burns on his skin, the weight of a torched support beam, the crack of the floor as it had given away beneath him. But mostly, of the sorrow in his soul as he watched his beloved fall to the searing flames.
'Not again' Sylus thought to himself, panic rushing adrenaline through his limbs.
As smoke made its way into his system, he coughed and covered his mouth with his forearm. He desperately made plans not only for survival, but to please his god once more. The voice of a second person in the room, male, reached his ears. There were two people who would undoubtedly try to stop the ritual, or at least evacuate those who were supposed to burn up. Scora would not approve of such an outcome. Thus Sylus did not approve. There was only one option left, keep the sacrifices contained or die trying.
Soot pushed a finger through a hole in the bottom of his t-shirt, and ripped off a large section of it. Wrapping it around his mouth as a makeshift bandanna, he turned and ran toward the couple standing in the doorway.
