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.
It was a lovely place, filled with wildflowers and trees. She was running, fast, faster, through the woods, over a hill. The hill was tall, so tall it was like a mountain. The hill grew steep as she ascended, steep, and steeper.
Her breaths were starting to wheeze in and out as she ran further and further up the tall hill. Sweat poured from her forehead, dripping into her eyes and blurring her vision. When would the giant hill end? She gasped for breath, heart hammering against her ribcage, thumpa-thumpa-thumpa-THUMPTHUMPTHUMP…
There! The hill’s crest! She could see it now, it stretched in front of her, so close she could almost feel it. Xavia perked up, smiling a smile of triumph as she scaled toward the top. There it was, there it was! Keep going!
Just as she would reach the top, then, the earth shifted underfoot. With the sound of dirt crumbling and rocks shifting, she started to slide downward. The more she fought the pull of the eroding dirt and debris, the more it seemed to destroy itself.
Down, down, down, she went, falling to her hands and knees, scraping her skin raw. Grit filled her mouth and nose, her eyes tearing up from the cloud of grime. As hard as she tried to stand, she never managed to get to that point.
A cry tore from her lips as she tried to reach the top, as she tried to get passed the sliding dirt. She lost purchase on the soft ground, and began to roll. She rolled down the hill like an overturned trashcan, so fast that she grew dizzy.
And just when she would have hit the giant tree, the dream was over.
“No, I am no Doctor, darlink.” Her voice quavered a little bit, and she glanced over her shoulder toward the door, wondering if the kind, elderly gentleman was going to come rushing in to check on the girl and admonish herself for being out of bed so soon after waking from her coma.
Her hand moved to brush through the girl’s hair, softly threading into the strands to rake through. Her eyes closed, and she found herself leaning against the girl’s bed for support, feeling quite weak. “I am Xavia (Sah-vee-ah).” Her fingers stilled, and she pulled back a little as she opened her eyes and saw movement in the doorway.
”Young lady, you should not be up and out of your bed.” It was the Doc-Prof, admonishing her, as she had guessed. He then turned toward the girl, and went on to say, ”And you, young lady, why are you carrying on so?” The Doc-Prof moved over to the bedside of the girl, gently taking Xavia’s arm to usher her back to her bed.
Xavia looked to the young girl and sighed, before obediently walking with the Doc-Prof. Once he had her situated back in her bed, he went over to the girl to make sure she was alright and do a vital check.
She had been resting her eyes, still too weak to move from her bed. The sound of screaming wrenched her from the sleep she was in, and she opened her eyes and turned her head toward the sound. Sighing tiredly, she attempted to stand, rolling half out of the bed she was in, and setting bare feet on the cool tile of the floor. Xavia braced herself against the bed, legs wobbly and weak as a newborn kitten. She took a deep breath and pushed herself away, to walk unsteadily toward the sound of screaming.
Approaching the little girl, she reached out and touched the girl on the shoulder, perhaps a comforting hand. “Shh, shh, darlink.” She closed her eyes and concentrated, letting the scent of roses permeate through the air. “You are safe here, darlink.” She attempted to push the girl down onto the bed, not finding it odd that she was floating. She had seen weirder with herself, and the plants that grew from her own body.
Hopefully, she thought, the scent would calm the child and stop the screaming. Of course, she could relate to the child’s fear, being that she was in a similar situation. She had been in a coma for a few months, not that she knew what day or time it was, only that she had awakened in the infirmary not too long before.
Wanting to comfort and be comforted, had spurred her into action. Even though she, herself, was in rough shape, the child was more important, she supposed. She hoped her presence at the girl’s bedside wouldn’t be startling or frightening, but instead, soothing and calming.
Nobody had ever come to comfort her when she couldn’t control what her body did, not her mother, not her father, nobody. It was as if they were afraid of what may happen to them if they simply told her that it would be alright, and that she was safe. As people came over to try and help her, she knew a moment of confusion… Why? Why were they there, touching her and trying to help her, when she was a complete stranger to them, and perhaps dangerous?
When the first one talked to her, telling her to breathe normally, she tried to obey, and took in gulps of air, closing her eyes tightly and trying to relax. Somebody in her position would probably start to cry about then, but not her, she was actually trying not to panic. Despite her efforts to breath, the plants still grew from her skin, ivy seemed to sprout into the tube that connected her to the bag. She closed her eyes and tried to will it to stop, tried to shut down the part of her brain that told the plants to grow.
It was, indeed, a painful experience. Sweat poured down her face as the roots burned their way through her, her breaths rasping in and out. Xavia closed her eyes tightly and tried to will it to stop again. For the first time since becoming what she was, she was able to stop the plant growth with a grinding halt. It was the first time she could control her mutation when she was under stress, which was a huge step for her.
She could hear the voice of the second girl, telling her she was safe where she was at. The plant girl opened her eyes to see the people who came to help and comfort her, and she smiled weakly, looking down to see the plants wither and fall off on their own. The smell around her shifted back to the original scent of roses.
The Doc-Prof came, of course, to help, and seemed, at least in her opinion, to be fascinated by the events. But he wasn’t shocked enough, most likely, to not do anything. He was checking her vitals and went to remove the contaminated IV tube, and taking the glass of water from ghost to press to Xavia’s lips.
She drank thirstily of the cool water. What was very odd was that she seemed to perk up in color, going from pale to almost healthy with the simple act of drinking the water that Ghost had brought for her, her cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. It was as if she was a plant in her entirety.
What an odd, odd girl she was.
When she was through with the glass of water, she was able to speak more clearly, though her voice was faint because she was timid in nature, “I thank you.” She looked to each of the girls and the Doc-Prof and relaxed back against the pillow. They obviously hadn’t run away from her mutations, so perhaps there were some good people out there that weren’t going to call her a freak for something she couldn’t help having.
Roses? But it always smelled like roses wherever she was. They were talking about the smell she gave off!
Xavia could hear the voices echoing through her ears, soft, and distant around her. She could feel the warm touch of the Doc-Prof as he began to examine her, and she sighed, dropping her arm and rolling her head on the pillow. Her mouth worked to form words, but a croak issued instead.
“Now don’t try to speak, young lady,” she heard the male voice… young lady, young lady, young lady, young lady….
She then heard the sound of a girl or woman entering into the scene, “Hihihihi.”
Another whimper escaped her as the man’s hand stilled on her wrist and he turned to greet the other, and then she felt him leave completely to go and aid the one who just showed up.
Xavia opened her eyes completely now, and turned her head to try and focus on the blurred figures of the three others. “Mmmf…” She blinked in rapid succession until, at last, the blurs took shapes. She was in the hospital? Or something like it, she thought… Her gaze settled on the girl who brought up the topic of the smell, could see her looking timidly toward herself, and she tried to sit up.
The room began to spin, and she plopped back down, “Th-thirsty…” Her accent, in her grogginess, was thick with Hungarian twang, pale lips trembling as she forced the one word out. One word was more than enough to cause her to cringe, her throat raw, her tongue swollen and dry…
As she was waking up, so was her dormant mutation… Now, because she had an iv stuck in her arm, she wasn’t dehydrated, so there was no turning brown for the woman. However, her lack of control over her mutation was evident when random smells started to override the scent prior, like blossoms in spring, ragweed, various flora that inhabited Michigan, perhaps. It was like someone who had hiccups and couldn’t get rid of them.
She whimpered with each change, because she could feel her skin crawling with roots, and this time she was helpless to stop anything from happening. Her skin seemed to visibly bulge and ripple, as if worms were crawling just beneath. It was clearly painful for Xavia, who started to weakly claw at herself, to pull away the flora that sprouted from her skin. Soon, various leaves and debris littered the bed and floor around her.
The light squeezed through her eyelids, creating a screen of red across her eyes from beneath the lowered lashes. Her head began to throb as her limbs twitched painfully, the pins-and-needles sensation humming through each appendage like a wall of nails. Whimpering, she turned her aching head on the pillow, trying to tongue the roof of her mouth, but finding it hard to do when her mouth was so dry.
Good god, what was wrong with her? She forced her eyes open a crack, but her lids seemed to be pasted together or something, because her eyes were so heavy. She felt drugged, plain and simple. When she finally managed to open her eyes more than a crack, she regretted doing so, for the light, dim or bright, seemed way too blinding for eyes that had been shut for at least a month. Not that she knew it had been that long………………………………………. As a matter of fact…… She did not know where the hell she was, or how she got there!
It was at that point that she would have bolted up out of the bed, but she felt too ill to do so. Sighing, she instead lifted a weak hand to place it on her brow, confused as to what was going on. It was all so much, she thought, deep breaths rasping in and out of her as disorientation continued to cloud her thoughts and actions. She closed her eyes against the spinning of the room, gulping in the air like it was water.
Mmm, water… She needed water, she thought, as her eyeballs moved underneath the flaps of her lids. Yes, water sounded good, it was as if she hadn’t tasted the sweet tasgte of water in a year. But, again, she had no notion of date or time, she did not know that winter was turning into spring, or that she had been in a bed for more than a month. She did not remember that she had been napped and then brought to this place by a teenaged boy, or that she had poisoned a girl in her haste to run away from the people who had saved her.
I am in strange bed, Xavia thought, where am I? Ugh, head hurts. Bed not important, I rest now. Water, somebody please bring water, she continued, in her head.
Just an update. I will need some more time, my dad is back in the hospital. Please do go ahead without me in any thread I may be in, as I do not know when this will be over. Thanks for understanding,. -Dry
I have to take a ew days off of role playing, maybe more. Yesterday, my dad was put in the hospital with a very bad infection, so my posting will be slow to none. See you all later I am sure.
In a better mood, thanks to wallowing in a puddle of mud, she stood up all chipper like, and eyed the woman for a moment, before throwing her arms out and pouncing toward her for a hug. If successful, her muddy arms would wrap firmly about the other, as she said, "No, name not Skippy. Xavia(Sah-vee-ah), and don't you forget." with that, if she hugged the woman, she'd pull back and give a good natured whack on the woman's arm.
Hah.
Was this dream getting weirder and weirder by the moment.
"Come, we walk."
And Xavia did seem loose one screw. Or, the dream Xavia did.
If it wasn't a dream, she would probably be more of the strong silent type. But it was, and she wasn't. Confusing, anyone?
Anyhow, she glanced over toward Sara, and nodded firmly, attempting to link her arm and pull her along with her own appendage. Off to see the wizard, lalala. (Not really.)
"Ugh, now you call me a liar. You do not need to know who I am! Get out of dream, furrball." Her arms akimbo, she glared at Sara, and lifted her chin. "I wake up any minute now, you will see..." she sang. Her eyes squeezed shut, then, and she waited. When nothing seemed to happen, no clicking of the ruby slippers, nor twister blowing her from Kansas, not the great glass elevator or Willy Wonka, and certainly not little people going after her lucky charms, she cracked an eye open.
Only to see the big cat lady again.
"Argh. Out of my way." Xavia moved off to the side and passed her, stepping firmly toward the open door. It was then that she paused, one foot poised over the threshhold, face contorting into a wary expression, mouth forming an "O"... And before she would lose her false sense of bravado, she quickly jumped through the door and into the raining enviroment on the other side.
Expecting to hit a wall, she instead, tumbled forward and gave a surprised squeek. Splat. Pitpatpitpatdripdropdrip... And the rain came pouring down in sheets.
Her favorite weather, oh glory be, the life giving nectar of the skies! Rain! Forgetting her qualms about Sara, she laughed and got all happy as she became a drenched being, hair plastered to her head, murrrrrrrr.
By that time, surely Sara would be staring at her as if she had gone daft, though she didn't look to see if that was the case. As long as the rain was falling, she was a happy plant-typed person thing being.
And did she ever act the fool, rolling around in the mud as she was? Why, certainly.
Seizure had done it, had put the young woman in a catatonic sort of state. It was temporary, of course, but for now she was dead to the world. The only sign of life, that she yet lived, were the movements of her eyeballs beneath her closed lids. Ahh, and the sweet scent of roses started to hang in the air, intermingling with the metalic scent of dried blood, and the clean scent that often accompanied places of infirm.
Her mouth was lax, and her breathing came without hitch. It wouldn't take a long time for her to reach her dream state, which would then cause her limbs to twitch against her, and sighs to bubble from her full lips. But she rested now, and that was the important thing. Down for the count.
Not much can be said about her current state, not much could be read into the situation, except maybe what might be going through the minds of the people surrounding her.
Xavia blinked as the door was opened, and the scenery that lay over the threshold of said door. "Odd is right," she muttered, caramel gaze seeming to shift to the other mutant, then, the feline, and she furrowed her delicate brows with some bemusement, little wrinkles marring the perfect smooth of olive skin. "So I dream, too, of big cat woman, strange is this dream."
She gave pause to look around her and assess her situation a bit more, but found no peace in the sight of clogged traffic and foul mouthed New Yorkers; nevertheless, she still remained calm. Hell, it was easy in this case, because she thought that it was solely her own imagination. Wouldn't it just freak her out if it was something real?
"Are we supposed to go through door?" she asked, lifting a hand to scratch her head, tapered fingers curling into the ruffled curls that topped her head. Xavia did indeed seem confused about everything, especially the portal that was left to stand open, while people meandered by without so much as a surprised gasp at the gaping hole in the side of a skyscraper.
"And," she went on to say, "Who are you? Now I dream of cat people, like that musical... Oh, what was it?" Silly woman, it was Cats, and why she couldn't remember such a simple name for a broadway show by Andrew Loydd Webber was beyond knowledge, though.
If indeed they were linked at a dream, they might just see what she saw, then maybe they wouldn't. It was hard to tell. This was her dream, after all, or so she thought. They would possibly see as she had other images hurtling through her mind, for instance, the one about her being turned into a mutant by injection, or they would see the greenhouse and how she flourished there. Or the image of her laying in the infirmory, where she rested after being put into a seizure induced coma.
In the end, she was right back in front of the two women, dressed as she was in her sweet sixteen gown. A perplexed look crossed over her expression, and she stared at the two of them, who seemed to be talking, or not talking, about the dream they were sharing.
Xavia slipped to her knees and rubbed at her temples, her gown no longer there, and in it's place was the outfit she was wearing at the time of her kidnapping. More images leaked through of the men and the van, and she gave a soft groan. "See, nightmare..." she gritted out, keeping in mind that they might not have seen what she saw.
After taking a moment to recover, she peered at the strange door that appeared, it was a drawing come to life?? She stared at it, agog. "What is that?"
Sara was not ignored, really, simply overlooked by the fae-like Xavia. But then, this was a strange dream, and it would only get stranger and stranger. She could feel as rain started to pour down, and her eyes lit up, the plant part of her giving a purr. In fact, she seemed to perk right up at the nourishing droplets, while a cute sounding, "Murrrrrrr" escaped her throat.
She pivoted after her ward was deposited on the ground, and blinked in confusion at the sight of the cat woman at a desk, outside in the rain. Didn't cats hate water? Now she knew it was a dream.
"Someone pinch me," she mumbled under her breath. "I sleep, and this is dream."
She threw a concerned glance toward the bundle of nerves that was Julianne, the girl she didn't know that she had rescued in her dream, then back at Sara. "Exciting? Hah. This is nightmare." Even as she said that, she felt pleasant, and the scent of roses started to thicken in the air.
She did not know she shared a dreamstate with another, did not know her mind somehow linked with that of an unfamiliar woman. Tears streaking her bloodied face, she wiped the back of her hand over her eyes, doing more damage than not. The sight of the woman crawling backwards in a crab-like fashion, caused her own brow to knit, and she saw the men too. Without thinking, she stood up and moved toward the woman, attempting to grab beneath her armpits and haul her toward the nearest tree.
When she was younger, she had learned this neat trick, though it almost never worked. But this was a dream, and things happened in dreams that sometimes wouldn't happen in real life. If the woman went with her willingly, she'd be pulled into the tree, melding along with Xavia into the trunk like that of a wood nymph. If successful, they'd be able to watch as the men stumbled around in confusion. When they didn't see the two of them in the streets, they'd probably move on to search the other out.
If and when they were gone, and the coast was clear, they'd come out of the tree unscathed, and she'd let go of the person she had a hold of. Her knees knocking some, she'd shudder andwalk on stilt like legs, back into the alley. Panting, she sat back down in the spot she'd abandoned, fingerstwisted in the stained material of her tawny gown. If the other followed, Xavia would look at her curiously, wondering if this was really a dream or not.
The fact that she could literally feel, smell, hear, see, and taste every little thing in this strange dream, made it seem more like reality than not. "Where are we?"
Her voice was thick with accent, a Romanian-Germanic sounding ring to it.
This whole time, she hadn't paid much attention to the cat....woman? Wha? What a strange dream she was having.
