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 finished the toast to idiocy with a quick swig and a brief smile towards Chelsey. He could not keep a bit of regret from his mood. It may be inescapable, necessary in fact, but a part of Sylus did not want to burn this independent, cynical woman. This same piece of conscience bit him everytime he struck the match and sent a batch of souls to Scora. Somewhere inside his soul, the good man he used to be still existed, and it showed as he walked away from the barfront. Sylus chose to ignore that gnawing thought at the back of his head. After all, one does not ignore the will of a god.
The thug from earlier was slowly making his way towards the bar as Sylus made his departure. The young and boisterous man was a welcome, if unexpected, variable. Sylus had planned on impersonating as a barback to get beneath the bar, but the possible plans of the drunken idiot who started this night may serve Sylus better. If this man planned to start a fight like he had promised to, it would provide ample time for Sylus to get this fire roarin. It could be coincidence or divine intervention, but tonight's ritual was going off without a hitch.
Sylus took his time moving across the room and away from the possible brawl about to happen. He took the time to go over his plan, all possible exits were clear in his head, as was every task that would ensure that Scora got everything he needed for the Forge. He had only offered up 37 souls so far, but if this burn worked, he could possibly even double his sacrifices in one foul swoop.
Sylus slipped one last time back into the slightly foul smelling back hallway, searching for any useful bits he might have skipped over, and preparing for the work ahead. Beyond more rags and a can of aerosol spray cleaner, he found nothing along the lines of fuel for the flames. He did not despair, trusting his speculation that there was plenty of it in the waiting basment.
From the semi-darkness of the back corridor, Sylus leaned back and counted each soul that would soon join Scora in the afterlife, though he didn't really have to.
All the info he needed would hit the Newspapers by morning.
The light wind that night pressed against Soot's vaporous self, slowing his pursuit of Sky only slightly. Her speed (though slower than his) and grace, made him seem like an insult to what flight should be. Sylus may have been one with the wind, an incorporeal being that flowed through the sky, yet as her name implied, his oddly skinned opponent danced through the air. She was a testimony to movement itself, and the fact that he was trying to catch her seemed like something akin to capturing a faerie in a jar, or murdering a unicorn. But this did not stop him, in fact it fueled his efforts. After all, who has not wanted to see Santa Claus in the act, or to catch a leprechaun for its gold?
In the end Sylus was still chosen by his god. He was supported by the maker of life itself, and no mythic being or mutant could beat him.
He surged forward, his smoky body following in a snakelike trail after the oddly skinned woman. The look of determination and focus on her face sent a thrill of competition down his nonexistant spine. It was not much longer until Sylus was following right in the wake of wind left by each of her swinging movements. As she reached the edge of the next building, with another looming over her, Skydancer twirled one of her......tendrils? And proceeded to vault a story high in the air. Sylus floated after her, all but nipping at her heels.
When they both reached the top, the excitement of probable victory fed his own fires, and with an extra burst of speed Sylus went around his opponent and took the lead. As thoughts of the metaphorical winner's circle, and very real bragging rights, entered his mind, Sylus became lost in victory, and zoomed in the same general direction that the race had started in.
As he gained distance between himself and Skydancer, Soot broke from his dreams of winning to realize one simple and race-shattering fact. The sheer stupidity of his challenge to this mutant dawned on him, and cause him to stop briefly, a smoke sillhouette forming upon the improvised racetrack.
"Idiot! How could Scora have made you so stupid?" He thought to himself.
You see a race requires two things: a beginning and an end. The starting line was easy enough to determine, and he knew what the destination was called. But Sylus had absolutely no idea where he was going.
I am no Xman or police.... but i am a rogue mutant arsonist on the lam in NYC. My specialities include (beyond arson) improvised explosives, incendiaries, hand to hand grappling, infiltration, and general destruction.
Whether the Order wants to catch me, kill me, cooperate, or stop the burning of New York, Im open for anything. If you guys need to find me, just follow the smoke.
A serrated smile loomed beneath the glowing yellow orbs of the little man that plopped down next to Sylus. The smile was almost childlike, vitality and innocence emanating from its very existence. The creature was like a boy in a foreign land, where there was nothing but wonder and danger in the world. Its mannerisms clashed beautifully with its outward appearance, the resulting personality forming something reminiscent of Satan's cutest, most lovable son. The voice that issued forth from its primal mouth clashed as well.
"Guglin" It said with a distinct canter to its voice. This was not the sound of a killer or an animal. Nor was it the growl of a monster. This was the voice of a humanoid that met every morning with a sense of excitement. It also showed a bit of intelligence. The creature could speak. The word it chose was foreign to Sylus, thus he could only assume it was a name of some sort or another. Guglin the martian. It was an odd sort of name, though what could one expect from a different species.
He stared down at the little humanoid, and hoped that it liked jerky. Sylus placed a strip slowly its four fingered hand. This was a link that they inevitably shared. Every living thing ate, and everyone Sylus had ever met enjoyed food.
"Eat up, Guglin. Its tasty." Sylus returned the exuberant smile and chomped down on another bit of dried beef. The tough texture and smoky taste left a pleasant flavor in his mouth even after he swallowed. For a little while he sat, mostly silent beyond the chewing. The world around him ticked by in the silence.
"My name is Sylus." He said with a gesture at himself punctuating the last word. He pushed the bag of jerky closer to the martian. "Do you understand me? I hope I'm not talking to a brick wall here."
He hoped this little monster spoke english, it would be one hell of a long night if it didn't.
The sky was dark by the time Sylus finished his cigar. He stowed the unfinished end back into the tube, and let his eyes slowly adjust to the semi darkness that was central park. The city surrounding the dense "jungle" still cast its lights into the sky, adding a bit of twilight to the already bright moon. In due time Sylus could see well enough to distinguish the shapes of the forest, though not every detail.
The wilderness around him stirred with a new set of noises: the occasional snapping twig and the hoot of an owl mixed with the surrounding music of New York. As Sylus sat, pondering religious meaning and tests of faith, he noticed how peaceful this little oasis was compared to the big city. Of course he had spent plenty of time in cities like Phoenix, but his home was always the wilderness. And if he could not have open quiet desert, this green dot in a grey metal landscape would have to do.
Not long after sunset, Sylus's wait was over. In a sudden and not-so-dramatic change, the little green beast was back. It reacted as if it was still being attacked, a sudden jerking of its outline in the darkness. Sylus did not move, he understood the reactions of an animal in distress, and like a lone coyote, this creature may run at the first sight of danger. Instead he sat and returned the martians's bright, yellow-eyed stare His approach would have to be cautious, there was still some mysteries to be solved. And perhaps questions to be answered.
"I will not hurt you little one. Though i would like my lighter back." Sylus's voice was clear and calm, with more than a hint of curiosity in it. After all, how often does one get to meet a small, green skinned humanoid who is protected by divine intervention? It was quite the moment.
He slowly reached into a large pocket in his cargo shorts, and pulled out a bag of beef jerky. Removing a strip and chewing on it slowly, he set the bag down next to him. "
"You can have some of this if you like, i just wanna talk." In a way it was bait, worm on a hook for a waiting fish. But this is not a fish Sylus planned to gut. This was a keeper. He was beginning to like the little creature, its demeanor was almost like that of a child.....or a mischievous imp. If Scora had a plan in motion, Sylus might get to enjoy this one.
With a flexing of her mutant tubes, the young woman vaulted into the air, and began the race across the rooftops. Sylus watched her go analyzing her abilities. She was quite agile, and if she was any type of athlete he would guess gymnast. As Skydancer moved, Sylus began to understand not only her mutation, but also the nature of her name. The woman seemed to float upon air as she took advantage of her head start.
"38, 39, 40, 41," Sylus quietly counted aloud. The headstart did not bother him, it would simply make the race more enjoyable. After all, he could essentially fly, it would otherwise be a landslide victory. As he began to finish the count, his body slowly began to transform. First his fingers, wisps of new vapor joining the air.
"46, 47"
His arms fled him as he began his gradual change. Bits of his torso went with it. With each number that escaped his lips, new sections began to form into an ever-growing cloud of dark smoke. The change was slow. Sylus took the time to enjoy the gift that Scora had give him. As he lost his body, he gained excitement. The thrill of the race was upon him.
By the count of 60 there was nothing left of Sylus Ivander Kade. In his place there was only smog. It glided after the woman who was now rooftops away, at a speed much faster than a human. Soot whipped around obstacles, flying after Skydancer. His smoke trailing her as if she were a running flame, instead of a lilting acrobat of the streets.
"And so it begins." Sylus thought as he started his steady trip to the finish line.
The building towered above him, an old dinosaur of a building that had withstood the test of time. Sylus passed the front of the apartment block and proceeded down a side alley, looking for a backdoor to this soon-to-be ruin. As he approached the back of the building, he was greeted by a tall fence bordering the block's small yard. This, of course, meant little to him. His smoky self sifted through the gaps in the face, and directly under the crack in the backdoor.
Sylus reformed on the opposite side, and breifly checked his surroundings. He was situated in a quaint little hallway, with two sets of stairs on his left. One up, one down. The immediate vicinity was deserted, though he could hear the footsteps of the building's residents above him. Fearing confrontation and knowing the way his devastation must travel, Sylus chose to head down. He ended up in a small basement split into 3 rooms: a maintenance area, a small storage closet, and a large community laundry room with several washers and dryers. After peaking into the closet and maintanence room, he came out with the fuel he was looking for, paint solvent.
He continued into the laundry area, and perused the dryers, looking for one that was running towards the end of its cycle. After a short search, he came up with some dry clothing and sheets. This he arranged in the corner of the room, and doused the surrounding area with the flammable lquid. Lowering himself to one knee, Sylus prayed in front of his makesihft pyre.
His words echoed lightly around him, filling his soul with a purpose and perseverance that he had come to know and enjoy.
"Please..... take this and return to me what I have worked so hard to earn. These souls return to your forge from my hands. From this destruction, may an equal creation be returned to me."
Skydanceer? What kind of name was that? The woman was a little odd to be sure. But she offered shelter and sustenance, and that was all Sylus needed. She had grinned at his proposal of her keeping pace with him. It looked like their would be a race after all. Good, NYC was a town full of surprises, and he hoped he had just met one.
The night sky shone down on the edge of the building, their starting line in this race to the Mansion. He grinned back at his soon to be opponent as she released what looked like purple tentacles from her body and gripped a nearby fixture. So thats how she got up here so fast.
"Looks like this will be interesting." He said, and tossed the last of his cigar to the ground. The smoke that had littered the area finally took its course and disappeared as Soot focused on the task ahead.
"Care to see if you can keep up with me?" Sky said in a friendly challenge. Sylus did not need to find out this fact, he already knew he could.
"I don't think that will be a problem. But you may want to take a minute head start...... I don't want to be the old man who shamed you on the way home." His challenge was just as friendly, though a little more direct. He faced the right direction and waited, his feet planted solidly on the ground. There was no other preparation to be done.
With a look to the mutant who was his opponent, Sylus shifted his weight and waited for the race to come. His heart beat a little faster as he thought of the trek ahead. His stomach churned as a child's excitement filled his body. In his soul he was still young, a boy wanting to prove himself to the world. In reality this was not much different from the truth. After all, the new him was only a couple of years old.
Soot smiled as a curtain of flame burst from his imrpovised incendiary weapon. The little sacrifice before him feebly lifted its umbrella in a futile attempt to shield itself from its fiery fate. The flimsy plastic melted quickly, creating holes in the tiny creature's defense. Sylus mentally tallied up another soul for his god.
In less than a minute, the umbrella was nothing but the metal spokes that supported it. Sylus waited for the screams of a dying martian, and was greeted only by the sounds of the searing jet before him, and the light crackle of burning brush. He lowered the flamethrower, his eyes taking in a sight that he could not immediately comprehend. Before him was a statue, its hands still held the lighter that was stolen from him, and the burnt rod of what used to be an umbrella. The creature had turned to stone.
If his jaw could have struck ground it would have. Sylus was dumbfounded.
"How the.... what the......"
He approached the tiny sculpture and felt the rough texture. He tested the stone's strength and found that it was indeed a solid piece of very hard rock. In an annoying bit of irony, the little (now possibly dead) thief would not let go of its prize. It practically taunted him, as if the spirit of the mischievious imp had lived on even though its body had abandoned it.
"I don't believe it. I don't even get to know if he made it to Scora, and I dont get my zippo back!" He kicked the statue lightly in what would have been its head, wondering how this was even possible. He had never met something that did not fall to the all-consuming hunger of fire. The circumstances raised a lot of questions like: is it dead? should i break it with a hammer? But mostly it troubled that spiritual resevoir of faith that had served Sylus for so long. If this thing was immune to fire, what did Scora have in store for it?
He sat down at the base of a tree near the rock that perplexed him so, and took out the cigar that he had begun this trip in the park with. He lit it and stared at the bright burning tip. Thoughts of religious ambiguity ran through his mind. Scora had laid before him a test,whether of faith or will he had no idea, but it was not something he could ignore. Sylus puffed and pondered.
"Well my little friend..... consider yourself lucky. Scora seems to favor you. For what reason i have no idea..... but we will figure it out together. I cannot let a message from my lord be left unattended." He knew he would get no answer. But he also knew that time reveals a great many things.
Sylus settled in to wait for an unknown period of time, and though his beer was gone he still had most of a good cigar. As the sky darkened, the tip seemed brighter and brighter to him. It seemed as if a touch of destiny had visited this small oasis, and whether it brought creation or destruction, he would be ready.
Whatever the little green man was, he obviously knew his way around the forest. Sylus watched the creature move through the forest with sure footing and definite destination in mind. In his silent pursuit, he took the time to study his soon-to-be sacrifice. It wore what looked to be a pair of pants that would have been several sizes too large, if not for the jagged cut on the bottom. It still carried that ridiculous umbrella, even though there was little chance of rain. The hard almost claw-like nails on its hands seemed just as sharp as its pointy teeth.
It was quick and would have been hard to track if not for his superior speed and maneuverability. The cloud of smoke that was now Sylus Ivander Kade was unimpeded by root, rock or treebranch. He easily flowed around the trees, keeping an eye on his prey from above. It stopped right before the next path through central park.
Turning around, a look of fright came across that green skinned face as it saw the looming smog following it. Sylus took this time to surge ahead, parting to either side of the miniature monster. He reformed two feet ahead of the creature and pulled a bic from his pocket.
"Run as fast as you want, you can't escape your fate, say hello to Scora for me." And with a flourish, Sylus lit the bic and pulled a can of spray deodorant from his cargo shorts. Flames sprang forth and leapt toward the little man, and Soot mentally sent his praise to the god that recreated him, sure that soon a new soul would enter the Forge.
"The place is usually just called The Mansion. Technically its a school for mutants..."
Mansion, that could mean some fancy living....... or just a big house full of souls to be scorched. A school full of mutants could create problems or possible allies. Either way it was nothing Soot couldn't handle, he was practically untouchable. In the end, his choice was obvious, and his whole body, from his stomach to his aching back, agreed with him.
A smile formed around the cigar clenched in Sylus's teeth. He stuck his hand into the air in front of him, palm up. With a bit of will, the cloud that had hidden the majority of Soot's visage began to swirl and condense to the size of a basketball, it floated above his palm and swirled counter-clockwise.
"A mutant academy, huh? I haven't been to school in years.....but something tells me I will fit right in." The ball of smoke exploded like a small fire cracker, but instead of rising into the air, most of the smoke floated down to cover the ground in a foggy field. "I hope this place isn't far, or im going to have to go pick up my car.......unless you think you can keep up with me." Sylus said with a fierce grin. He silently hoped she would take his little challenge, for there was a rather good chance that this woman was also a mutant. His curiousity nagged at him as to what she may be able to do.
"Im glad you came around tonight, i'm new to NYC, and i wasn't sure how i was gonna keep up this bs until winter. I'm a little to old to be living off scraps."
The few tendrils of smoke that remained around Soot began to take new shape in front of him, creating distinct letters.As they formed, he spoke once again. "To make this a more formal meeting.... you may call me...."
Both of his hands raised at the end of his sentence, framing the single word floating at chest height. Sylus
Amazing how talkative the woman who called herself Chelsey could be when she had someone just as annoyed as her to talk to. She commented on the poor manners of the friend in his lie, and even explained her reasoning to drink at this overly trendy, college ridden bar. It was not until she mentioned him leaving the bar that he realized that he now had to add on to his charade once again.
"Well since Ive never been to New York, and your too selfish to tell me a better place. I guess i have two options, sit here and wait for a late friend, or go grovel to the idiots behind us for answers." Sylus said with a chuckle. " tell you this much, you may be losing your headache, but im just starting to grow mine." He laid a final bill on the bar and ordered a shot of jack. "So i think it's about time i headed outside for a cigar......after a shot. I'd rather not have to come back in these doors for one more drink."
The bartender took his money and laid a shot down in front of him. Sylus left it there, taking stock of the current situation in the bar. The time to leave the main room was not yet upon him, but it would have to be soon, since an old friend had entered the bar. It was not the man in Sylus's lie, but instead the man that he had pushed. The drunk, agressive college boy was searching the bar, and had brought a couple of friends with him. One way or another this would throw a wrench into his plan. The only move left to him was to act fast, and start the ritual before any real disturbance.
If Sylus could move with precision and speed, this moron with a vengeful streak and a death wish could be of use. A distraction would be useful.... but Soot could not get involved. He had more important things to do. He turned back to Chelsey and raised the shot.
"To all the idiots in this world, without em we would have no reason to keep drinking."
An athlete, huh? Sylus wasn't sure what an athlete was doing vaulting around rooftops in some rundown district in New York. Seemed like some college campus track would be a more fitting setting. He was not overly bothered by her modern attitude towards smoking. Sylus was a product of another generation, there was little need to justify smoking. During his childhood it was the norm, everyone smoked.
Sylus turned towards the woman, though the cloud he loitered under did not go away. The tip of his cigar lit his face, revealing his features to her for the first time. He studied her slowly in the bit of light he had from the moon, stars, and street lights below the level of the roof. She wore a long coat and had dark skin that seemed a shade off the normal hues.
Soot looked her in the eye as she began to talk about her past and hard times. Her salvation from the acts of some strangers. Same story told in a different voice. Everyone had one.
"It only seemed fair that you be offered the same opportunity."
This caught Sylus's attention, an old familiar ache in his lower back reminded him of the compact SUV that was all he could return to, and the restless sleep he got while laying down in the backseat. He couldn't live in a car for the rest of his life. Might as well try to find a residence and maybe some money. Hell if it did not work out he could always burn the place to the ground. He thought of a soft bed, hot shower, shelter. There was no gaurantee that this place had any of that, but there was much more to gain in complying with the woman than there was in staying on his own.
"What kind of place are we talkin about here? Because I will not end up in some center for drug addiction, or a psych ward." He replied without malice.
"But anywhere with a bed, a shower, and no immediate expectations would be great for me. You have no idea what sleeping in the back of a car can do to a mans back at my age." He said with a laugh and a grin.
The laugh was both for her and for every difficult situation in his life, because even if he couldn't outright beat a problem, he could always laugh at it.
"Oh, and I suppose you will protect me from this harsh, terrible world? Please.I'd tell you to grow up, but.. well... ..Here's to free booze, though."
Sylus noted that she had just insulted him....even if done subtly and possibly in good humor. He chose to ignore the comment and rose his glass slightly in the air, silently answering her toast. There was little use in arguing an insult that was true. Most people would say that his best years were behind him, yet Sylus had more control and power over his life than he had ever had before the housefire. In his eyes he was living a second, more meaningful life.
"...Chelsey." The woman broke her shell of mystery and apathy to give him a name. Given the grin on her face, and the bit of mischief in her eyes, Sylus doubted it was real. But at least he could call her something other than the cliched and overly formal "young lady."
He set his half full beer on the bar.
"Well Chelsey, your a big girl, I doubt I need to be superman tonight." He responded, throwing a little insult in himself, with a small grin that echoed her own. The little verbal quip was his way of telling her that neither his age or his chivalry would make him turn the other cheek, he may be old, but there was still plenty of fight in this mangy mutt.
"So... where's your friend the owner?" Chelsey asked with a straight face. If he wasn't completely new in NYC then Sylus might have taken her for an undercover cop, fishing for information. Her questions seemed to pry at the weak points in his lie and the biggest liability in his plan. In any case, ignoring the question would do him little good and only raise suspicion. However, the conversation could not keep coming up to the same question. He decided to turn the questions on their axis.
"Wish I knew." He said with a scowl. " Don't know how much longer I can stand it in here. Feels like the sustained exposure is gonna make my ears start bleeding. But he takes 'fashionably late' to an extreme."
Sylus drank again, leaving a couple more swigs in his beer.
"What're you doing here anyway? Given the scowl you had on when i walked in here, it didn't seem like you were ready for social drinking.....though maybe ready to intoxicate yourself to sleep. Either way you picked the wrong bar in my opinion."
He laughed openly at that. Enjoying the banter of a real human conversation.....it felt like forever since his last.
