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.
She did not speak much still as he danced her around the little clearing, her mind was starting to hold a beat of an unwritten song. It had been many years since she composed a song, and it was starting to form the first notes in her head. Eventually, she began to half hum, half sing and urged him to follow her beat, which was not slow, but not fast either. “Hmm, hmm…. As the fading sun is shining down… The wind whispers of the silver… moon… hmm hmm… Brightened stars are diamond dust in the dusk.”
Then he spoke, and she lost her thoughts on the song for the moment, blinking a few times and canting her head. “A show?” She pulled away and plopped back into the grass, staring up at the sky, cheeks somewhat flushed from the joy of being able to compose again all because this boy had took her into a dance.
She idly poked her fingers at the ground and some peonies popped up. Peonies? But those were a spring flower! It was closing in on Halloween and there were dead leaves everywhere, yet the woman could sprout the multicolored clusters of the four petal flowers without an afterthought? “What kind of a show?”
He was being so cute about her keeping the distance between them as far as their budding relation… ship… goes… Wait, relationship? How did that happen? She forced herself to think unsexy thoughts, worse than Barney Gumble in a polka dot bikini. George Bush, Dick Cheney, uh, uh, Wookie! That did the trick.
She realized that she had been staring at his mouth the whole time he was speaking to her, and she hardly paid attention to what he had said. Food? Oh, yeah, food. “Uh…” Good question. All this time she had been surviving on eating rotten leaves, which were, for some reason, tasty to her, that she had forgotten how real food tasted. Mind you, she wasn’t remotely anywhere near being carnivorous, and opted for something vegetarian. “Veggie burger sounds good to me,” in fact, she almost drooled for this.
Xavia stumbled to her feet and headed for the door she figured was the bathroom, pausing and smiling some over her shoulder toward him. “Oh, and… thank you again for everything…” With that, she opened the door and slipped in.
She rushed over to the bath tub and drew some hot, but not too hot, water. She didn’t think twice about pouring a capful of bath gel into the running water. She was soon slipping out of the sweaty clothes and into the water with a nice, audible purr, for she had not seen the likes of a hot bath in months! If he had not gone for food yet, he would definitely be able to hear it through the door, and the sounds of pleasure that followed. Poor Jupiter.
She broke the kiss before it got too heated up, being that she was kind of weak still, and also that she didn’t want him to get any ideas about the fade to black kind of scene. After all, she was saving herself for when she knew without a doubt that she was in love with the man.
Xavia sat up and slowly shifted so her feet touched the ground, and she took a few deep breaths, wanting to say how she wanted him as well, but bit her tongue before doing so. Her thigh throbbed from the knot that was still there from the needle, she must have had some kind of mild allergic reaction to the drugs to have had a fever and have a knot the size of a golf ball. But the need to get up was greater than feeling crappy and sick.
“I need to wash up, Jupiter, and… well, you know.” She refrained from saying how she might need help washing up because she knew if she told him that, he would relish in doing so, and it might lead to other activities listed in the first paragraph of this passage that she was trying to avoid for now.
Add to that, she really did not need his help to piddle. (XD)
He took it better than she thought he would, and she gave a wavering smile as he took her hands and lead her into a dance without a beat. She realized how thoughtless she had been in blurting out her sob story, but rather than apologize profusely for said mistake, she remained silent as he spoke.
It had not been fair to the kid to make him listen to all that, but at the same time, she hadn’t told any other soul the story.
She finally granted him a full smile that even touched her eyes a little, and though she didn’t speak again to the boy, she was clearly making an effort to cheer up for him.
My health, unfortunately, is not improving any, and I have noticed it is starting to affect the way I interact with some of you, especially in the early morning hours before sunrise when I haven't been able to sleep. I would like to personaly apologize for any erratic behavior on my part, and please know it is not intentional. I am trying very hard to keep my spirits up, and being able to post in here helps me out some to get the frustration off of my chest with this whole illness. I am not, by any means, saying everything is bad, it is just mostly being frustrated with not making any progress with the doctors, and the depression caused by it, and I do not mean in any way to make any of you feel uncomfortable because of said results. If you find that I am acting too strange, please PLEASE do PM me and let me know so that I can try and make it better.
Her eyes closed when he kissed her forehead as if she was his, and she sighed softly, “You stayed with me…” It wasn’t a question, she didn’t need to ask him that. His breath didn’t smell like alcohol, either. How long had she been out? When she opened her eyes again, she looked at him and gave a weak smile. Her hand lifted up and she touched his cheek, looking into his eyes for a moment, before dropping said appendage and relaxing against him.
“You took care of me,” she went on to say, then canted her head. “Why? I’ve been nothing but trouble for you, Jupiter. Why would you take care of me?”
She rolled some to face him, the question alight in her gaze, brows puckered gently in confusion. For some reason, she had to touch him again, and brought her hand up once more, tracing his lips with her thumb in wonder. There was no mistaking the look in her eyes, something tender, something soft… Was she half in love with this man already? If she was, she wasn’t about to say so.
Her lips pulled downward at the corners as she concentrated on his face, her mind still a little foggy. She opened her mouth to speak again, and her belly growled loudly in protest. Woman, stop thinking about kissing him and get some food, she thought in her head, and her heart argued back with, “But his mouth looks good enough to eat.” After all, he spent the nights with her, taking care of her, making sure she made it, why couldn’t she kiss him? In the end, she did, leaning in and brushing her lips across his softly.
She drifted in and out, catching snatches of movement here and there, like when he brought the plant into the room. He kept vigil on her through the whole thing, she could remember thinking to herself. Despite the wet rag on her forehead, the fever started to get worse, and she spiked around Midnight of the next day.
Xavia was delirious, tossing and turning on the bed, her skin dry and hot except where the cloth was. At one point she began to cry out and talk in her sleep, “No… No more…” Her cracked lips moved slowly with each word, and her brow knit. “No more needles… Want to go home… Please…” Her accent was thicker than before with her sleep, a little harder to understand. “Want to go home, please… Don’t leave me here! No! Nooo!”
It was only a few hours before it was over, thankfully, and he would know that when a film of sweat covered her, making her already luminous skin shine with an ethereal sort of luster. If it hadn’t been for the water, she would have been much worse, much longer. She opened her eyes for real, this time, feeling somewhat weak. Her voice was raspy as she spoke, “Jupiter?”
She looked around for him tiredly, shakily propping herself up with the heals of her hands. She was stunned to find herself in an unfamiliar place, and her eyes widened with apprehension. She did not remember any dreams or how long she was out. To her, it was only a few minutes or an hour at the most, but in reality, it was likely she was out for a few days.
As the drunk girl lurched into traffic, she just barely got away from being hit with a car as Sara grabbed her and pulled her from danger. Hopefully the mongoose man would follow suit and get out of the street before he got hit himself.
Xavia passed out before anything else, whether Sara put her on the sidewalk or not, blood still oozing from the back of her head where she’d smacked it. It wasn’t profuse in bleeding, the wound didn’t seem at all that bad and there was no sign of bad trauma, perhaps a mild concussion, but the most damage seemed to be done by the alcohol. Loose change, some crumpled bills, and her paper ID had fallen out of her pocket, along with a piece of paper that was yellowed and folded half-azzardly, obviously looked at a lot. Otherwise, there was no clue as to her identity.
The paper read as follows:
April 17, 2009. The library didn’t help me find answers either, just another empty search on a blurry picture in my head. I need to find out who is sending men after me and why. Is it because I am a mutant? Is it because the man who made me into this… thing is behind all of this? I have to remember!
It seemed to be written across the back of an old missing dog poster that had seen better days.
As the two goons that were on the ground crawled away to get the hell out of there, Xavia’s hold on the mutation weakened quickly. The tree bits fell off with cracks and pops, and an exhausted woman fell to hands and knees, surrounded by the pieces of broken concrete and flora. Panting heavily, she plopped onto the ground on her belly, a large piece of bark covering from her lower back to her ankles, angled in just a way that one leg was more uncovered than the other. Lucky for her. She gave a groan as her head pounded, and relaxed herself for the moment while she sought to gain her breath again. Aside from various bruises and scrapes, and the exhaustion from the chase itself and the mutating, she was in good health.
The scarred thug went down when something flew from above and went unconscious for the time being, his gun skidding under a dumpster and out of sight. He would be out for quite some time and wake up with a nasty lump the next day. Shin got him pretty good. Somewhere down the street was the sound of peeling tires as the other two thugs sped off without their ringleader, retreating like the cowards they were.
The wail of sirens called through the late afternoon, muffled by the rain as it fell like cats and dogs, thunder drumming overhead like tom-toms during a war.
Sara kept talking, Mongoose kept talking, they just would not shut up! She started to laugh. At first, it was a tiny hiccup, then it was a giggle, and soon, it was uproar! Xavia laughed and stumbled as she tried to swing around to face them, a comical expression that drunks often have on her face, minus the sharpie squiggles and mustache that people liked to draw on a face like that. She laughed until she fell to her ass, and then she squinted up at the blurred figures, not having heard a word they said.
When she stopped laughing, she went slack-jawed and cross eyed as she tried to focus on their two-four-two-six-two-four-two-ten figures, and then plopped back with a nasty sounding thud on the pavement. Of course, while the two had been talking, she quickly polished off more than half of the bottle, and after she fell, the bottle of brandy skidded across the sidewalk and some of the remaining contents drained. Honestly, she was too far gone to be angry anymore.
She rolled onto her side with a groan, a touch of crimson from the back of her head left in the wake of her rolling over. She had smacked her head that hard. Oh my. Never had she gone this far before, and she would probably never do it again. She didn’t need anyone to tell her she was an idiot, she would feel like crap when this was over as it is.
The girl struggled to her feet, not yet feeling the knot in the back of her head, and she grabbed for the bottle with a few tries, then snagged it and lurched upright. The alcohol had caught up with her fast, and she went to take another drink but missed her mouth by half a foot, the rest of the contents splashing onto the sidewalk before the bottle fell and shattered. Her form weaved and bobbed and she headed straight into the center of the street and into the heart of traffic.
He was speaking to her but she could only understand a few snatches of his words before she gave in to the comforting embrace he gave in to the feeling. She cried for sometime, her body shuddering with silent sobbing, and it went on for at least an hour until there were no more tears. Her head was throbbing by the time she was done, but her heart felt less burdened than it had in a long time. And he never told her to stop, or if he did, she didn’t hear him.
Eventually, she drifted off into sleep as the drugs forced her to do, and he would be able to feel she was slightly feverish, but not dangerously so, as she lay in the circle of his arms. The scent of flora seemed more powerful as the night progressed, filling the room with the thick smell of flowers and the loamy smell of a forest. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell at all, but harder to pinpoint outside where it was a natural smell.
Xavia lay still, not changing position, seeming dead almost if it hadn’t been for the heat radiating from her body, and the occasional hitch in her breath that she normally did when she dreamed. Whatever was in the sedative was some potent stuff, because she did not wake up for what seemed like the longest time, whether he got out of the bed or not.
She did not hate all humans, and she tilted her head as he spoke of such things as if he thought she did. No, she simply feared them, but mostly she hated the people who did what they had done to her and what they were doing to her now. Here she was, over a thousand miles from her home and the sheltered life she had lived, not taking care of herself because she did not know what to do, how to let mom and dad know she was alive without having a phone, and she was learning a serious lesson about being a mutant after being in denial for a long time. Her mouth kind of quirked as she let him talk on about humans being bad or good, and the same for mutants, and then as he talked about his band.
“I don’t hate all of them. I hate the ones that hurt me, but fear the rest.” She paused for a moment to reflect on what she should say to him, her brow knit as she continued to look down at the flower which almost seemed to be nuzzling against her fingertips. She decided then that it was easier just to open up to the kid, and did not look up at him as she went on, “I used to be one of those people who looked at mutants as abominations. That was a long time ago, I was about your age, I think. I was the kind of girl that had all the friends and had the all-American boyfriend, the perfect life; nothing could make me understand what it was to be hated, because I was so loved.” With a heavy sigh, she touched another flower and let it open under her fingertips the same way the other had.
“I had everything, but one day I lost it all. Maybe that is why I am so confused about my place in the world right now, why I am missing a few screws in my head. I became what I was prejudiced toward. The details are still a blur to me, but I dream of what happened all the time. The bad men killed all of my friends the day I turned 16, right in front of my eyes. I remember that, but then there is blackness after that. My poppa and momma found me some time after that, walking along the side of the road like some kind of Zombie. They took me to all the specialists they could find to see what was wrong with me, and they talked to each other, and not me. I overheard my poppa and momma fighting one day about me, about what to do with me. In the end, they treated me like I would never grow up, they treated me like a porcelain doll because, and I suppose they were right, I am fragile.” Xavia paused to laugh at the irony of this entire situation, then finally looked at him. “As much as I will never stop loving momma and poppa, they were wrong to shelter me. The bad men came and took me away almost ten years after they took me the first time, but a nice boy rescued me and took me to his school infirmary where I spent awhile in shock, and another man… A bald man in a lab coat stopped me from running away… I… Don’t remember why it happened. I woke up some time later, and decided to run away before I hurt someone, because I couldn’t control the part of me that does this…” She gestured toward the flower. “What you saw when you came here, I… Got lost in doing because it is so beautiful, and I didn’t realize it until the bad men came looking for me that this wasn’t bad... But I am afraid of what they will do if they find me, and when you spoke to me I was sure you were one of them for a moment and I distrusted you. I was wrong. But I do not hate you, as I would have thought I would.”
She stood up and walked off a few steps, shaking her head after realizing she had just told someone who she really was in a long winded speech, and she rubbed her forehead. “You must think I am a nutcase by now for my grand speech.” She kind of chuckled, and turned back around to look at him. Actually, she felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders to be able to open up, albeit unprompted by this kid who had nothing to do with her. “I wouldn’t blame you if you thought I was.”
There was a moment more of pregnant silence from her as she thought about talking about music with the boy, but she knew somehow they would see each other again, and there would be other times to talk about singing. She canted her head and wondered what he thought about all of this.
Her head hurt so badly. Not again, oh god, not again. Her brow puckered as her head moved, and her cheek hit the warm flesh of her rescuer, Jupiter, who held her while she slept the drugs off. He had carried her from NYC to the Sanctuary, set her up in a cozy quarter, hell, even gone out of his way to find her a keyboard, and was now worriedly cradling her fragile form against the solid wall of his brightly colored chest.
She fought to open her eyes, working her metallic tasting mouth so saliva would ease the dryness the drug had caused her. It took her maybe a minute, but she cracked her hues open a little bit, only to see blur. Sighing, she tried to sit up, but her arms and legs felt leaden, the drugs were not yet completely out of her system. Another minute passed by and she was able to roll over until she was sprawled on Jupiter, peering drowsily at his handsome face.
When she tried to speak, Xavia couldn’t quite form any words and ended up mumbling nonsensical rubbish that basically had no meaning. Her hands curled up into half fists against her almost lover’s shoulders, and she had no choice but to drop her head and whimper as the pain sliced through her temples.
Her eyes closed again and she lay helplessly against Jupiter, and confused and freaking out in her mind, feeling a burning pain from the knot in her thigh where the needle had been jabbed. What… What the hell had happened?
She suddenly remembered the thugs returning to her borrowed home, the fighting, the hand that covered her mouth, and started to cry between the drugs and the stress. Her tears weren’t forced(though those were genuine enough) like last time, but this time they came out whether she wanted to cry or not. The saline fell passed her eyelids and dripped onto the massive red chest that was her pillow, and she couldn’t stop them from coming because her brain was in a cloud that she couldn’t quite get out of.
Xavia was tired, she was sore, and her soul was weary. But for the first time since her kidnapping, someone was holding onto her to comfort, rather than hurt.
