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.
He was in such a hurry to get out that he had been sloppy. Damn! He had planned for his minion on the roof to distract the demon dude so he could make a clean get away. He had not anticipated, however, a naked red guerilla of a man fly through the air and into the main storey of the house, sheet flapping around his midsection. He didn’t have time to get the girl out of the house and leapt the rest of the way out of the window, then pointed a gun toward the man’s head and yelled, “You can’t watch her forever!”
Miffed, the ugly goon started to back away and took off running. A door slammed somewhere, not long after, and the peel of tires screeched in the morning air.
Meanwhile, Xavia lay slumped against the wall, blood welled up on her bottom lip from the man’s hand grinding into it a certain way. Now, maybe Jupiter understood what had her so on edge that she had went after him in the Ramble, why she had taken off running and was desperate enough to try and cross the icy cold river. Why she may seem to have a screw or two loose.
She had been scared. This house was her haven, and they ad chased her out before. If he looked around him, he would see the tell-tale signs of the prior break in. There was still wood splintered on the floor from where they had bashed the front door in, and if he had seen in the attic, there was still the bullet lodged in the wall, and chunks of the window pane missing.
When he had come up on her in the park, she must have been so on edge that she did what she could to keep herself safe, more than anything. While he hadn’t gone looking for trouble with her, she was frightened for her life and took it out on him, before he had a chance to attack her.
Now that there was a steady stream of sunlight, he would be able to see what the dimness of dawn had left out. There were smudges beneath her eyes that bespoke of lack of sleep, her face was slightly pinched from fatigue, even as she was rendered unconscious. There were also bruises, still somewhat fresh, visible across the part of her chest that the dress did not cover, from her having tried to leap to another building and smacking against it. Even her legs bore some marks of the misadventure.
She wasn’t safe in New York, she wasn’t safe anywhere she could be followed.
It had happened so fast. One minute, they were fighting and then the next, it was over. Xavia watched on, face drained of color as she felt like she was about to faint. She watched as Jupiter went up the next set of stairs after coming up and reassuring her that she was safe. She stood up then, and quickly went downstairs to tie the unconscious men up with the duct tape they had brought.
While Jupiter was busy upstairs though, another figure crept out from the kitchen where he had been looking for her. It was the scarred man. He came up behind her with a syringe full of tranquilizer, then grabbed for her and plunged the needle into her leg while his hand smacked over her mouth to keep her from screaming.
Xavia struggled against him, even bit into his hand, but to no avail. Her head started to feel light, and everything started to blur as the drugs pumped through her veins. He turned them both around, pulling out his Glock and pressing it against the side of her neck while he started to back toward the window, ignoring his fallen comrades so he could just get the hell out of there with his intended target.
She went limp against the man, her head lolling forward as her eyes began to roll and she gave in to the sleep that claimed her. Her entire form became like a ragdoll, and she grew heavier than he had anticipated from the dead weight. Hopefully he would get himself, and his captive out before the bastard upstairs had any inkling he had been there. Let him think she had ran off on him, she was good at running away. He had to give her mad props for her stealth.
He was a patient man. His lackeys were disposable, and as long as the money kept coming at him, he would keep chasing the bull’s eye, being Xavia. He was a merciless mercenary who would do anything to get ahead in the world, and he enjoyed watching his victims squirm like a worm on a hook, he enjoyed the whole chase, honestly.
His current benefactor wanted the girl alive, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get revenge on her. She looked so beautiful, even now, pale, limp, and unconscious against him that he felt a surge of triumph. What his boss didn’t know wouldn’t hurt. He loved the thought of what he would do before taking her to the man who was paying him… Yes, the thought spurred him on as he silently propped her against the wall and began to climb out the window.
She smiled a little more as he kissed the scars that crisscrossed the back of her hand, where normally she would have snatched her hand away because of the puckered white lines that marred her flesh. She trusted him. Why? She did not know…
She was just about to reply to him when she heard the men downstairs, and her heart leapt into her throat in that instant… Xavia pulled away from the door and looked at him with fear in her eyes, they had come back for her! She gave him a pleading glance and shook her head as he started to walk down, opened her mouth to speak but snapped it closed.
The plant mutant was yet too weak to be of use in this new danger, she hadn’t slept well enough to gain enough energy to be able to attack with anything that would bring them down, perhaps a few minor offences, but that was it. She wished they would just leave her alone, hadn’t they already done enough to her? They had taken her away from her home once after killing a bunch of teenagers, they took her away again after smacking chloroform over her mouth and nose, she was experimented on, tested, poked, prodded, treated like a guinea pig and left to wonder what had happened to her. If they took her away this time, she was afraid whatever was left of her sanity would die away and she would have to be put into institution where the cycle would repeat itself.
Xavia hesitantly began to follow, silent behind him, but then thought it would be better to hold herself back this time. He looked plenty strong and would be able to do more than her, and she would just be in the way, she thought. A distraction. While he headed downstairs, she wracked her brain for answers. What should she do?
Eventually she knelt behind the railing that lined the loft, peering between the bars while she observed the action.
She sagged against the door and said softly, “I… Did not mean to kiss you, but…” Xavia lifted a hand to her trembling tiers, she could still feel the heat from his own. “I didn’t mean to go as far as I did, but you were sitting there watching me, and you saved my life even though I made you angry, and…” And I want you, she thought. But she was an innocent, had never been with anyone before, not even her high school sweetheart. Heat still pooled in the core of her abdomen, shockwaves of desire still coursing through her spine.
But he showed her she didn’t need to run. He understood. She did not apologize for kissing him, though, because they both felt the intensity of their nearness, not just her. “I am Xavia.” Her sigh was soft as she regarded him with a heavy stare, sunlight beginning to filter through the slats of the boards to bring more light to her features. He would see she was incredibly beautiful, but not in the way of a supermodel or actress, but more like a flower. He would be able to see what color her eyes were, a rich caramel surrounded by the thick fringes of her long lashes. She had hair as black as midnight, and she was delicate looking, as flowers look. The light was just starting to brighten up enough that he would see that clearly.
He would also be able to tell just by looking at her that she was interested. Boy, was she interested… But to her, he was forbidden fruit. She knew without a doubt that she wanted him for more than just a meaningless fling, and didn’t think he wanted the same. She wanted to be cherished and loved, and protected from the evils of the world, yet she did not think he was the type that would handle that. That was only an assumption though, and she did not voice it.
She had to smile, though, because he called her mysterious, and wanted badly to open up to him and tell him the wild ride that landed her in New York City. But what would he do? Would he think she was a coward? Would he think worse of her? The possibilities did little to stop the ricocheting of her heartbeat off the walls of her chest.
For some reason, she trusted this teenager more than she had anyone else, and she seemed to relax a little bit. She slid down so she sat at the base of the tree and wrapped her arms around herself, looking down. “I can’t help it…” Her voice was soft, but she spoke with more sanity, “They took me far from home. They are dangerous, they killed to get me the first time…” She started to chew on her fingernails a little bit.
She closed her eyes for a second and shook her head, forcing memories to stay tamped down, before she took a calming breath. She wasn’t TOTALLY insane, but she had a good reason to be. Watching more that 20 teenagers get shot in cold blood on one’s sweet sixteen was enough to drive anyone mad for a time. She was silent for a few moments, trying to focus on the boy who had advanced closer to her.
Then he changed the subject to singing, and she blushed softly. “I was a concert pianist once upon a time. I sang in choir but not as much as I played the piano.” She smiled, now, and started to relax even more. She imagined playing the piano in the old abandoned house. One day when she could save herself from the streets and maybe even go home to her family, the piano would come with her.
She touched the dead daisy beside her lightly, and the flower bloomed again as she softly went on, “You would want me to sing with you?”
Her head was swimming as they kissed, as he touched her thighs, which had never been touched by a man before. She felt him easily lift her and carry her upstairs as if she weighed no more than a feather. When he lay her down and moved over her, and lifted his head away from her mouth. She opened her eyes and looked up at him for what seemed like a suspended moment. She lifted her head and kissed him more firmly and hungrily for a moment, before tearing herself away from his mouth and turning her head. “No!” she said suddenly, though it took her some effort…
Her chest rose and fell to the rhythm of her deep, gasping breath. She pushed at his chest, and when she could, rolled away, then stumbled to her feet. Xavia walked toward the door where she sagged against, and she tried to calm herself down. He made it so hard to think clearly.
“I… I don’t even know who you are,” she rasped out.
At first she couldn’t resist his draw, the way he held his hand out to her. One hand found his and she let him draw her into his lap, then found her face just inches away from his… He would be able to tell that she wanted him by the way her eyes half closed, the way she continued to worry on her lip(not hand ). It felt so natural to her to be near him, even after they had acted like a couple of fools before hand. Maybe it was because he saved her life instead of walking away and being done with her, maybe it was some connection they shared that she didn’t know about. All she knew was that she wanted him to feel the same way she felt.
Her eyes closed and she hesitantly leaned forward, lips so close to his he would be able to feel the soft waft of her breath. Not quite touching, but so temptingly close. “Thank you…” was her next statement, low and husky. In the end, it was she who closed the space between the two of them and brushed her lips ever so slightly across his mouth. She stopped thinking altogether.
She did not go any further than the soft brushing of the lips, did not push it, but knew if he wanted her the way she wanted him, he would not settle for the mere touch. As she was “kissing” him, she moved her hand up to trace a finger over his bright red cheek up toward his hair.
She was startled when he started to clap and tell her how beautifully she played. She turned to look in his direction, the light of the moon bathing him from the window behind, making him look like a silhouette. Her pupils dilated some as she focused on his shadowed form, and she didn’t reply right that second. Her throat closed some, and she could feel her heart pick up in pace.
No, damn it, she thought. He wasn’t supposed to make her belly flutter, he wasn’t supposed to invade her dreams. She didn’t even know his name, yet she sat transfixed like some mooning maiden from days gone by. She looked at his face, her lips parting as silver light filtered in through another window, closer to her, giving her a bluish cast, her tangled curls highlighted and shining, now that it was dry and cleaner than it had been.
Xavia swallowed heavily, as his face took on the face from her nightmare. Squeezing her eyes shut, she looked away and shook her head, and said softly, more to herself, and possibly too soft for him to hear, “No, he’s dead… Dead and gone… He has no right to tell me how to feel.”
The fact was, she felt some spark for this stranger, though unwanted, and was sure he felt the same way. She remembered the feel of his palm resting where it shouldn’t have been, vaguely of course, could actually almost feel the heat of his body on her skin still. Oh, god, but she was so conflicted inside now.
Finally she stood, turning around to look at him again, and she took a hesitant step forward. The closer she got, the more detail she could see, and she saw he hadn’t put anything on before coming downstairs. Normally, she would have bolted by then, but they were way passed that.
“I am sorry I woke you…” she whispered loud enough for his ears, almost sure that he could hear her heart beating a staccato against her ribcage. Scarred hands lifted and raked through her long hair, and she bit at her bottom lip as she regarded him with a wide eyed stare that was neither disgusted, nor scared.
She lifted her chin and took a step back as he came closer to her, and her back hit a tree. This was a time where she wished she could shift into the tree itself like she had in her dream state. Her mouth quivered a little as he spoke of how beautiful the scene was and she looked away with obvious discomfort. For a time, she did not reply, but when she did, she said, “You mean you are a freak like I am? Is that what you mean?”
Her words were somewhat bitter, but she said it. Color brightened her cheeks and she looked at him again, and with a sigh, she said, “Sorry… I… I didn’t mean it like that… I… Sorry…” She pressed her back against the beech tree behind her, and worried at her bottom lip with her teeth.
“Please… Just… Please don’t tell anyone you saw me here doing this… I mean… People, not one of us… There are some very bad men looking for me right now—“ She cut herself off and bit her tongue after she blurted that little tidbit out.
Unaware that Jupiter was stripping with gusto, and unabashedly so, Xavia slept on. Even when he lifted her from the rickety recliner, she slept. Her small form curled up closer to his as they lay together, and her shivers abated after a time. She eventually nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck and shoulder, and slid a foot between his ankles as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Some hours passed and she lay still, sleeping without snoring, her breath deep and even. Sometime in the night, however, she rolled away and began to toss and turn as a nightmare plagued her. (See: Dream a Little Dream Post #5) The dream was so real to her that she spoke out a few times, but the words were hard to make out because they were slurred from her sleep. After the dream was over, she didn’t immediately wake up, but when she did, she sat up, gasping for breath and lifting a fist to bite down on to keep from crying.
Whether he was asleep or not she looked at his form for a moment and blushed almost as red as he was. She knew, though, that he hadn’t taken advantage of her because she wasn’t ignorant to life science. Xavia pulled away quietly, slipping out from under the blanket because she thought by that point that he was asleep. In the dark of the room, she sought out another stolen article of clothing, a simple brown, sleeveless dress that was maybe a size bigger than she was.
She tiptoed from the room and headed for the stairs, taking them silently down, barely making the old boards creak in the process, thanks to her slight weight. The “nymph” sought the comfort of the old piano, which she had not touched since the day the bad men had come to try and take her from this place. She picked up the bench, which was left untouched from where she had kicked it, and sat down.
The first chords came out with fumbling fingers, but she took a deep breath and began to play the out-of-tune instrument. It wasn’t horrible sounding, but it would have been better if she had taken the time to tune it. The familiar swell of notes from Jewel’s Foolish Games began to come out. She rocked and swayed with the beat, closing her eyes as she became lost in the tune, and even began to sing in her sweet voice.
“You took your coat off and stood in the rain… You were always crazy like that… As I watched from my window, always felt I was outside looking in on you… You were always a mysterious one with dark eyes and careless hair, you were fashionably sensitive but too cool to care… You stood in my doorway with nothing to say, besides some comment on the weather… *Crescendo* Well in case you failed to notice, in case you failed to see… This is my heart bleeding before you, this is me down on my knees… And these foolish games are tearing me apart… And your thoughtless words are breaking my heart… They’re breaking my heart…”
She played on whether he was awake or not, and didn’t notice if he came down, she was so lost in the comfort of the old piano. It would be easy to understand why she wanted to come back here instead of going to the Sanctuary right away…
I would like to nominate Graviton. He has some awesome writing skills and excitement for action threads. I think he would make a good choice for Mutant of the Month.
Intrusion of the Red Monkey Man (A dream from the abandoned house)
They were there again, in Central park by the river in the Ramble. She was freezing, her form soaked to the bone from the icy temp of the water, and he was leaning over her to breathe life into her again. The red monkey man… He was still a nameless face, and though he was red and had a monkey tail, he was still very handsome. And his lips, they were softer than they looked as he moved to breathe for her, and it somehow turned into a kiss.
Boy, what a kiss it was.
She vaguely remembered twining her arms round his neck, because she was so focused on this kiss with this complete stranger. Why did he haunt her brain so readily when she did not know him? Why had he bothered to save her at all? The kiss had only been meant to stop him from trying to do CPR on her, but it became much more than that, and it confused the hell out of her.
But this was a dream, she knew, and as always, her dreams took twists and turns into the unknown.
Instead of pulling away like she had in reality, the kiss kept going for awhile longer until it was he who pulled away. He reached out to touch her cheek and said, “You’re so beautiful.” But it wasn’t the same voice he had spoken with before, his voice was so very familiar and caused her to stop breathing.
Though his coloring remained the same, his face began to contort and change before her eyes, into that of her high school sweetheart, who’s lips curled upward in that familiar smile of his. “You can’t seriously be thinking of moving on with this weirdo, can you?”
“What do you mean? I… I don’t even know him…” she said in protest, and saw his grin turn sour.
“You’re kissing a freak. He is not like us, Sah-sah.” His words were mocking at this point. It had been common knowledge that he had a particular dislike for those affected by the mutant gene. His eyes were hard as they bore into her own, and he reached down with the hand that wasn’t his, but the monkey man’s. She could feel it around her throat the same as before, in reality, pressing down on her windpipe slowly.
“Like us? I… I am one of THEM!”
His face contorted in anger, and he pressed down harder, “You are a freak? I can’t believe I was going to take you to prom!”
Just when she thought she would pass out in her dream state, his hand let go, and his face shifted back to that of the man from the park, who’s face had softened since the kiss. “Come with me, I can help you. You are one of us…. One of us… One of us…”
She did not wake up just yet, but as she slept, she tossed and turned.
This is the story of a girl, who opened a bottle of brandy and was minding her own business when two thorns in her side came out to greet her on the stoop of the bar. This girl was already in a sour mood, and these two entities decided to try and talk to her again. Well, now, the girl listened to what the cat woman had to say to her, the only visible sign that she heard the lady, being the slight tick in her jaw and the lifting of one eyebrow.
When Sara was done saying her piece, Xavia calmly stood up and took a large chug of the brandy without giving a shudder as the amber liquid burned its way down her esophagus. She then decided to make it a point to be rude, and belched, then said, “Ahhh… Rudeness… That is what I was basically accused of… Why, I just thought I would make honest people out of the pair of you.” Then she turned to Sara and said, “If you put yourself in peoples shoes as you say you do, then you would realize that I made an honest mistake, and there was no reason to talk to me like I am a simpleton. However, I chose to walk away, and that offended you? Pshh. I hope you are quite done making me feel tiny.”
She took another swig, and was obviously bolstered by the alcohol in her system. It was obvious she was a lightweight and that she hardly drank, and she wouldn’t have said the words otherwise. People act stupid when drunk, and she was no different. She wasn’t drunk enough to be impaired in movement as she was in judgment though…. Yet….
She started to walk away again, her back to the two as she propped her shoulder against the corner of the building and continued to drink. She was already a quarter of the way into a fifth sized bottle. For someone who didn’t drink, that was a lot, and she showed no signs of slowing down either.
Of course she did not notice the boy circling around her and such, she ignored the outside world because of her fantasy world. She truly was a crackpot! However, the kid spoke to her and dashed her from her daydream and into reality, and she bolted to her feet, heart pounding as he had startled her.
>>>¨Pardon, Miss are you alright? ¨
She stared at him like a doe caught in headlights, her jaw slack and panic filtering through her caramel eyes. Xavia backed away a few steps and muttered, “Yes, yes, fine…” She looked around her then, only to see that her flowers were wilting and turning brown as quickly as they had come into view. Her eyes settled on the boy again. What was the look in her eyes? Fear? Confusion? It was hard to tell, but she backed up a few more steps. How much had he seen?
The question died on her lips though as she turned her back to him and squared her shoulders, one foot lifted as if she would bolt any second because she was like a cat caught with a canary in her mouth. She felt very foolish to have been caught acting like a child in a meadow. In a way, part of her still was, as she never truly had a chance to grow up like a normal person. Not after everything that happened when she was a teenager, not after she watched her boyfriend die in a hailstorm of bullets because some crackpot scientist wanted her as a specimen.
But this boy, who looked about the same age she had been when she was taken away from her home the first time… He did not know how she had suffered so. He was an innocent. She did not know he was more like her than she thought he was, she just knew he had wandered up to her when she was caught adrift in a second reality she had created with herself using the mutation she had been forced to live with since she was a teenager.
She turned around by that point and did what came natural to her, get defensive. Her arms crossed and she glared at the boy, “You shouldn’t sneak up on people.”
[She was so lost in her own world that she ignored the sounds outside of the little haven of trees in the Ramble, and didn’t notice the boy entering the scene and watching her. It seemed, by that time, that she began to carry on a conversation with the daisies. “So pretty, you are, with scent so sweet. Your petals are the pure white of snow, framing the sun that is your core. You stand so tall and proud, my sweet daisy.” Xavia caressed the blossom she spoke to with the ends of her long tapered digits.
She laughed then, as if the flower spoke back to her, and went on with, “No need to thank me, darling.” Rolling onto her belly, legs splayed behind her, the ugly gingham dress sagged off of one shoulder, and the scarred expanse of the backs of her hands caught in the filtered sunlight. She brought her legs up at the knee, crossing them at the ankles so her bare feet could sway as she started to hum.
The humming eventually turned into singing, a smile still on her face while she sang in a lovely, angelic sounding Hungarian Alto:
“A nap birtokol elveszett -ból ragyogó skies Bye , baba bye az pitypangok volna csukott -uk szemek , baba viszlát The csillagok van gyújtás -uk lámpa -hoz forr csecsemõ és mókusok és madarak és méhek egészséges alva mint õk semmi -hoz be viszlát , baba , viszlát. az mókus emléktárgy meleg -ban -a furs -ból szürke , baba viszlát lenn feltollaz , madárkák van berakott el , baba viszlát az vörösbegy haza van egy fészek a magasban az méhek , õk fészek -ban egy kas helyett baba fészek van õt kicsi poloska , baba , szia.”
(English) The sun has gone from the shining skies Bye, baby, bye The dandelions have closed their eyes Bye, baby, bye The stars are lighting their lamps to see The babes and squirrels and birds and bees Are sound asleep as they ought to be Bye, baby, bye.
The squirrel keeps warm in his furs of gray Bye, baby, bye 'Neath feathers, birdies are tucked away Bye, baby, bye The robin's home is a nest o'erhead The bees, they nest in a hive instead My baby's nest is her little bed Bye, baby, bye.
She quieted down then with a sigh bubbling passed her lips, and moved to kneel, touching the flowers one by one so they would close. And still, she did not notice the boy watching the whole time.
). It felt so natural to her to be near him, even after they had acted like a couple of fools before hand. Maybe it was because he saved her life instead of walking away and being done with her, maybe it was some connection they shared that she didn’t know about. All she knew was that she wanted him to feel the same way she felt.