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.
"I have been looking for him for long time. I... Was supposed to marry him but... T'ings happened... I need to speak to him..." A look of sadness crossed her face as she spoke of these things. Actually, it really hurt to hear that all the clones were missing. She actually had to stand up and walk away, but only to the nearest tree to lean against it... "Where are you?"
She turned toward Geo, face stricken. "He needs to come home. Jupiter... I... He needs to know he has a little girl. I have to find..." Her words came to a halt as she realized she blurted out this secret she never told anyone aside from her mother. She clearly wanted to do the right thing and couldn't because he skipped town.
Xavia closed her eyes and leaned heavily against the tree, her breathing turned painful as she tried to calm herself. But she couldn't seem to hold it together. And it was all her damn fault! If she hadn't screwed everything up by running off to effing Romania.
"I am sorry... I did not mean to freak out." She moved toward the quilt again, sitting down and looking down at the hands she was wringing.
She did not know what the woman was thinking about as she just started to play the old piano... Just the way Xavia had the first time she had hidden in the house after being kidnapped. Xavia leaned against the door as she listened to the music. Her hand was wrapped in a bandage by that point, and she was flexing her fingers. She sighed and moved to the kitchen, grabbing filtered water and pouring some for her guest. She brought it to Kendra.
"You play well," she said softly after the last bit of music quieted. She had no idea that the woman was looking at the picture of her daughter as she had gone to clean the wound. "I can't wait to bring my little girl here... She will t'ink t'is piano is hers."
That was said in a wistful tone. She missed her kiddo, she missed the man who she created the kiddo with.. God, if he only knew, if he only showed up! Xavia closed up a little and moved to sit on one of the bar stoolsnearby.
The ride did not take more than twenty minutes. She led the woman from the cherry red Harley (after parking it by a more conventional mini van) into an old, Victorian house that was in beautiful condition. She used her uninjured hand to unlock the oak door into the kitchen, which was decked out with marble countertops, copper pans, and stainless steel appliances. Further in, where the main hall was, the floors shone in fully restored glory, antique grand piano right in the middle, potted plants everywhere.
There were pictures on every end table and mantle in sight, but only one set on the piano. It was of Xavia with a little black haired girl that would be the spitting image of her, had it not been for down syndrome. The little girl looked a little older than toddler age. "I am Xavia. You sit where you like, I get you water if you like. I have to rinse hand first, t'ough..."
Her sigh was heavy as she moved to tend to her wound, opening a door by the grand staircase, which was obviously a bathroom. If the other woman went to the parlor beyond the double doors, off to the left, she would be surrounded by immediate comfort... Patchwork quilts, homey furniture, a fire place... No television insight, though.
"Mmm, I only paid attention to Jupiter in t'ose days," she said with a sigh, "A long time ago." The woman wrapped her arms around her legs, watching as he chose to sit off the blanket and then asked if he could join. Her brows raised as the feeling intensified. "I play piano, mostly, but music was always in my life. My papa believed it help plants grow to play music in greenhouse. He t'ought I make plant grow wit' music."
Ahh, how she missed her dad. She was glad she could be there with him when he passed away. "Join if you wish, Geo." She gestured, even though he was already sitting down. He would most certainly notice the scent change to lilacs she spoke of her father. Her father's favorite scent was lilac.
If he was flirting with her, she wasn't exactly sure how to respond in kind. Flirtation wasn't exactly her forte. At least, not off the stage. Her head tilted again as she studied her new companion. What in the hell was the familiar feeling? It was bothering the hell out of her. It wasn't his smooth talking, nor was it his looks... Not to say he didn't have em, but she never really cared about that. She had dated a freakin red beast of a man... No, it was something more.... Earthy...
She didn't realize that his presence was intensifying her abilities a touch. Behind her, the flowers that were not exactly in bloom yet, unfurled their petals and leaned toward her (only in that circle around her.) She obviously did not know what just happened, she was too busy studying him.
She didn't feel like a rockstar... She felt like an angry mutant, but more importantly, angry woman. She ignored the blood dripping freely from her head as she willingly moved away from the man, having made her point. "I am fine," panted the alto voice. "What about you?" The plant mutant straightened her petite form up, staring down at the man in disgust. She, of all people, had her fair share of weird stalker men.
The adrenaline started to seep from her, causing her to start trembling, but she would not say anything was wrong. "Come, let's leave t'is piece of dung t't'ink about his actions. You got ride? I have Harley, can get you to safe place. You come to my place, it is not far. Will give you chance to be safe while you call for ride, don't feel like waiting around for his buddies!"
Of course, she would not just walk off on the lady yet, she would give her a chance to come to her own choice as to whether or not she wanted to go to the nearest safe house.
There was no time for 911 when it came to assholes. Xavia followed after the stalker and struck when he would have struck. The only sound that may alert all parties, was the sound of her rapid footsteps, her boots crunching on pavement in only three steps before the sound of a loud grunt of pain if she was successful at the sudden sweep of her leg against his. If she was successful, she would straddle the man's lower back, the smell of nightshade cloying and sweet in the air.
She muttered, accent particularly thick when she was angry, "You have problem wit' mutant, and women. Have bot' in same package, asshole." A thick vine curled around the man's neck, though not enough to cut off his air supply. She was essentially using it as a submission hold, trying to get his hands restrained before the ignoramus could reverse the situation.
Unfortunately, she was much smaller than the man in question and she found herself thrown to the pavement as he tried to tug the vine from his person. He tore the vine from her flesh and tossed it aside, blood splattering from her palm. But despite the pain, she wouldn't let it go down without a fight.
Griiting her teeth, Xavia had to concentrate a little this time to grow the long thorns of a hawthorn from fingertips, curling up her hand like a claw and going for the groin. As soon as he realized what she had done, he would more than likely freeze, which is what she wanted.
Her thoughts were muddled into some kind of mess, and a ride on the Harley was in order. She threw her hair into a quick ponytail, dressed in her sleek leathers, put on her cosmetics, and left. The ride through the streets sort of filled her with anxiety, however, since traffic was really not great. A ride Upstate would do her some good, but she was waiting for when she moved her kiddo from Michigan to be with her in the city.
Xavia was about to turn around and go home when she noticed the group of people ganging up on someone. She cut the engine and walked the bike to a stop in a parking spot, listening to the crap that was being flung about, and hearing one person step up for the underdog.
She draped the helmet over the right handlebar and pocketed her keys, leather creaking as she dismounted the bike. She approached the crowd with her eyes narrowed. Why? Why did she do it? She could have just rode on like nothing was happening... Truth was, though, she knew her moral fibers would not let her.
Xavia felt like this would become a fight, so her fingers tightened into fists to be at the ready just in case.
Scenario One: Someone started shoving, her reaction would be to try and get to the abused before they could get hurt. She would use skills she spent time practicing since making the choice to join the X-men, relying on human abilities of fighting with fists and quick thinking. At some point, the plant mode would happen with the weapon of choice being her vines.
Scenario two would simply be silent observation and a hope her help was not needed.
Neither happened yet, and the prior would probably be far less dramatic, was her hope. Still, she was ready.
"Sanctuary?" She asked, startled. She had not been to the sanctuary in years. If by "sanctuary," he meant the place where people like her went; the gifted. Did that mean he figured her to be a mutant? She didn't exactly flaunt her gift, but she did not hide it either... His assumption would also mean the he, too, would be gifted. She was wary as she opened her mouth to speak.
"I have only ever been t'ere a few times, years ago when I was homeless... I do not have a reason now, squatting in houses is no longer an issue for me," She gave a light shrug, silently adding, Not unless the father of my kid comes around again. But... All the waiting for him to show up one day was wearing upon her... Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to finally let go. But he probably never encountered her back then. Would it hurt if she flirted?
"I am Xavia," she said, deciding to take a tentative approach with the interaction. She relaxed some, trying to ignore the pangs of the past and to focus on the now. Xavia chewed upon her bottom lip, observing him from her perch upon the patchwork fabric.
She continued to sing, sometimes humming, gesturing to herself, writing stuff down, and testing chords... There was certainly no need for autotune with her and her voice might be familiar if he frequented jazz clubs at all. She was in the process of finishing a line on the paper when she heard the voice behind her that caused her to half turn so she could view the one that spoke.
Caramel hues settled on his face, not so much in surprise as acknowledgement. The woman was clad in a simple, white lace dress over dove gray leggings, shoes and socks laying abandoned near her guitar case. Her hair was a sock of Manic Panic blood red beneath the dark roots, curls soft against olive skin.
When she smiled, it was an easy and natural smile that came to full, carmine lips. "T'ank you," eventually came her reply, an earthy sound with alto tones. Xavia did not dismiss him when she turned back around, just did the action to set the raggedy looking pencil back on an equally raggedy notebook. She turned enough to give a sidelong glance to the fellow.
Awareness rippled through her. She frowned in puzzlement, then moved to stand, padding in his direction. It never seemed to happen in this manner before... Whenever she might have an attraction to another being, it was usually an animal magnetism she tended to ignore. In all honesty, she hardly showed interest in the opposite sex since her one and only, Jupiter.
This was not an animal attraction... It was not even attraction of the romantic type. Or so she assumed. The closer she got, the stronger the scent of roses, like he walked into a rose arbor. She stopped within an arms length of him, and he would likely notice that a delicate and petite form stood before him. With head canted to the side and brows puckered, she studied him in silence.
After a long moment of standing in perpetual confusion, she pulled back and moved to her quilt, unable to shake the feeling of being near a kindred spirit. She almost never got those feelings; but the man reminded her of something she could not quite put her finger on. "Huh..." She said at last.
Somewhat taken aback by her own reaction, she closed her notebook, set the guitar in the case, and moved to sit facing him. "You do not intrude," she said in her heavy accented tongue. "But you do intrigue. You... Seem familiar, but I never saw you before."
Posted by Xavia on Apr 4, 2017 1:46:50 GMT -6
Geo likes this
Beta Mutant
c21e56 - Rose Red
Bi-curious/Straight
Artair's Lady
542
70
Sept 21, 2017 11:25:52 GMT -6
Kimmie
It was early when Xavia settled herself onto a quilt in St. Nicholas Park; the mist was still curling and undulating in frothy waves against dew covered grass. She always loved it when the sun barely came out of hiding and started to paint the canvas of the sky in a myriad of pinks and golds, eventually to dispel the mist until the grass became gem like.. The sound of the birds singing made it feel as if she was audience to a symphony, while the gentle wind provided percussion with the creaking trees and the leaves. Indeed, she lay there on the soft, worn fabric, hair spread out, face tilted toward the sun in the most secluded spot she could find.
Beside the woman was a guitar and a raggedy looking notebook, the cover hanging halfazzardly from the spiral to indicate the many uses; chewed up pencil poised between graceful digits while she thought of lyrics that had yet to be concocted. It seemed like the sun was a bit higher in the sky when inspiration struck, teeth worrying at her bottom lip as she opened the notebook to one of the remaining blank pages. She tapped at the object with the nub that was the erasure, then flipped the utensil about to scrawl words out.
"I still dream of you... Even if you've been gone for too damn long. My heart beats fast for you... The picture in my head's still going strong..." She sighed with some satisfaction, sat up cross-legged to pluck the guitar from the blanket. Xavia strummed a few chords at first, then settled on one, singing the words out loud in her smoky voice, pausing to write more words every once in awhile as they came to her.
To anyone who might approach the scene: The grass seemed greener around her, flowers perked up within a certain radius. The plant life seemed to lean toward her ever so subtly as if it could hear the words she sang. They would see an unusually ethereal beauty just about the woman on the rumpled quilt... And perhaps catch the scent of roses in the air, most certainly natural as opposed to synthetic. They would hear a voice that had been played on the radio, even if it was rare to hear a song of hers.
He should be glad that she didn't know he was hungry for meat, she would have been about useless there since she was a plant eater.... Let that sink in for a few moments. She did, however, ask, "You hungry?* It wasn't because she could sense or hear he was hungry, it was more because she was hungry and it was ruse as heck not to make the inquiry when one was on their way to stuffing their face.
She had a black bean burger with her name on it, yum yum. In the meantime, she would cant her head in his general direction and wait for his answer. Once he did (assuming he did...) She would either get on the Harley and ride on to her home and perhaps even fit a walk in somewhere before she had to make the commute back to the mansion.
Either way... She was asking. Because she was nice. Yeah. But that is just Xavia.
It was rare that Xavia got a chance to take a walk... The tired plant mutant needed some fresh air, not to mention a trip down memory lane. Central Park was still just Central Park... The sights hadn't changed in the years since her last visit. The stone bridge was still... the stone bridge... The brook was still the brook. This place, which used to be such a sanctuary for her when she had no home and no place to go, was now just a bad memory to her.
She shrugged the latter thought away and strolled along the pavement, face tilted up toward the sky and drinking in the atmosphere despite the soured thoughts. It was a mild night, which she was happy for because the cold hurt profusely. She passed the same couple by and the same tree, paying no heed to the young woman who stood by at the ready to climb said tree.
It was a peculiar thing that the other might notice... The scent of roses, and not synthetic perfume or highly concentrated oils, but actual roses... The scent would not even be dispelled by the wind for very long, and would only dissipate as she walked further away. And if that wasn't curious enough, the greenery within a a certain radius would brighten up, bloom, perk, whatever.
"Tyson, it is ok." She said as she observed him. She hadn't missed the point, or so said the look on her face when she watched him put the rose in the ground without mangling the plant any further. "Practice. Just practice, will become easier." Xavia reached out and touched his shoulder, wrinkled her nose and smiled, "Promise..."
The plant mutant moved away from him then, to the lone desk that sat up at the front of the building, and wrapped her finger around the back of her neck to kneed at aching muscles. Her stomach growled, she contemplated clocking out and heading home for dinner, but didn't want Tyson to feel like she didn't want him in her presence, she didn't want to alienate him or make him feel he was not welcome, she pondered what to do.
She moved to sit next to him, and if he did not stop her, she would gently take the crushed bloom from his paw and fix it so it was blooming again. She could not put it back on the bush, so she picked the thorns from it and set it aside for a moment. Then she would turn her attention to the injury and say, "Hold still," very softly, concentrated on plucking the thorns from his flesh before grabbing some nearby aloe and plying the soothing stuff to the wounds.
If he hadn't stopped her from any of that, it would only have taken her a few moments to do all of this. She didn't bother to wrap it, thorn punctures weren't ever deep or bad, for the most part. He would live. Instead, if he still didn't stop her, she turned his hand over and placed the bloom in his hand.
"Here, just cup your hand --" she thought "hand" would make him feel less beastly than paw, "gentle now... Mr....?" She gave a sheepish smile, realizing she had never asked for his name.
It wasn't so much lack of interest as it was just... being tired. She had a full schedule with teaching students, being taught by Sam, running a business from a distance, being a mom... also from a distance. If he looked close enough, he would see the tired written across her face, rather than disinterest. "You are welcome."
She watched him quietly for the time, curious as to what he was doing and why, but she wasn't worried about him messing up the plants because she would fix them. Xavia gave a slight smile off to the one corner of her lips and said, "You know, one can get in touch wit' t'emself better if t'ey close t'eir eyes an' relax for few moments before trying somet'ing." She offered that little bit of advice in hope she hit the nail on the head with whatever it was that might be bothering the poor fellow.
Hell, she would do well to follow her own advice, she thought, and closed her eyes to demonstrate. A few, deep breaths later, and she flipped her palm open and upward. It started with a tiny tendril in her palm, and would soon grow larger in size until it eventually became a "staff", or rather a rowan seedling without much greenery on it.
