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.
There was something incredibly disconcerting about blood that had a life of its own. It made just as much sense as someone picking up a puddle of water after a rainstorm with their hydrokinesis, but somehow knowing that the globules of liquid floating through the air used to be inside of a person made it more than a little creepy. It also made it fascinating.
Katrina couldn't take her eyes off of what Serena was doing. She watched every little wibble in the liquid, noticed the way the droplets seeped out of her dress and flew to join the growing red globule, noted how en masse it was just a little transparent on the edges, but much too thick in the middle to see through, memorized the exact shade of red... she was so mesmerized that she almost didn't realize that it was about time to actually catch the stuff.
“Oh, right. Ready!”
The blonde illusionist held open the little plastic bag, careful not to get her fingers in the way. She looked from the blood over to Serena, who seemed to have a look of intense concentration on her face. It looked difficult.
“You can do it!” She cheered on her new classmate, hoping to give her the inspiration to keep going.
Katrina smiled more readily now that she had gotten used to the idea of a good blood manipulator.
“Hey, don't worry. My powers used to freak me out, too.”
The blonde teen surveyed the soggy red scene, eying all the work there was to be done.
“If you think it is still usable, that you can get all the brass and twigs out of it or whatever else is in there, then let's do it. Let me just get some new bags and another marker from the front table.”
Katrina almost walked around the front of the truck, to where volunteers and nurses were carrying on unaware that anything had happened, with a big red blood stain all down her sun dress. Heh, oops.
After a moment of concentration, imagining herself in a sparkly clean dress, she had an illusion to cover up the dark red. She smiled and walked out as if nothing at all was wrong. Walking like she knew exactly what she was doing, she grabbed a stack of empty bags and a think permanent marker then turned and went straight back to Serena again. She let the illusion fade away as she got back.
“They don't seem to realize what happened back there. Let's try to keep it that way. Maybe if we just stay behind the truck no one will see and tricks you have up your sleeves even without being invisible.”
Katrina set down the stack of bags, opened one of them, and stood holding it expectantly.
“Oh.” When Katrina pictured a blood manipulator, it was usually some evil maniac tough guy wielding a blood red sword or maybe demon wings made of blood or something. She wasn't horrified or anything, just a little surprised. One couldn't help what they were born with, she supposed. Perhaps there was a horribly cruel evil bunny mutant out there somewhere to make up for it. People didn't choose their own powers to match their personality, nor did you power define who you were.
“That's handy,” she replied after a moment of surprised silence. She softened that with a friendly smile. Knowing what she could do didn't change anything. She was still the same person, of course. “I've never met someone who could do that before. You can't... do it while it's still inside of people, can you?” That would be truly scary, at least in the wrong hands. Note to self, make sure to warn Serena not to boast about her powers in front of evil people.
“Anything I can do to help, I'll do it. You want to be invisible while you do this thing so the bystanders don't freak out? Just let me know.”
Katrina tilted her head at the other blonde. She looked at the pooling blood, then back at Serena once again.
Do something? What was to be done? It was such a waste what had happened here. All this was supposed to go to help people and one selfish person ruined it, potentially even preventing someone's life from being saved.
The illusionist shook her head sadly.
“What could you do?”
There wasn't much she could imagine that would help in a situation like this. The damage was done.
The blood thief was just too fast for her to catch. He dove into a manhole, of all thing. Now normally Katrina would be completely okay with continuing to chase him, but she'd had a bad experience in a sewer and wasn't likely to ever want to go down there again. Not of her own free will.
She shuddered at the memories and turned back to where Serena was pointing at the large puddle at the back of the van. The little blonde illusionist reached into her pocket for her X-man communicator so she could perhaps get a little backup down in the sewer. She tried to avoid getting any of the red liquid that had drenched her dress front onto the device for fear it would stop working. Perhaps someone could track down the culprit and bring him to justice. After all, the blood he had ruined was supposed to save lives.
“This is Katrina,” she stated as clearly as she could into the little device in the palm of her hand, “I'm at the blood drive and someone just tried to steal a bunch of blood out of the back of the van. He may have been a mutant, he was very very fast. He got away, jumped down into the sewer.”
By the time she finished her call for backup, she had gotten back to the van.
There really was blood everywhere. There was much more than she had initially thought.
Her brother was gone!? As in abandoned her and left the country, gone? Because that sounded exactly like Zephyr. She would have asked more about it, but things were happening so fast.
The person in the truck burst forth, the contents of some of the bags of blood spilled all down the front of her, oh god it could be diseased, and the culprit was getting away!
Serena was wasting time checking on her, and though Katrina appreciated the sentiment, he was getting away!
"I'm fine, I'm fine. That guy is getting away! He's... stealing blood? We have to stop him!" What could he even want the blood for? Leech mutation? Pet vampire dog? Seriously!
The little illusionist pushed herself to her feet and started after hooded sweatshirt man. Even after all the countless hours of conditioning class over the past year, she wasn't going to be fast enough to catch up to him. He was too quick, and had too great a head start. She could, however, reach him with her illusions.
"Stop!" A tall, muscular black man with bleached hair stepped out in front of the escaping thief, holding his hand out. Nigel Banks, one of Slate's former employees at Mondragon Labs, was the first person Katrina thought of when she thought of intimidating figures. Surely the guy would stop for an illusion of him.
He didn't stop. The hooded thief just brushed right past illusion!Nigel without a second thought. Clearly she should have put him in a police uniform or something. She wished she had thought of it sooner.
Katrina turned back while still running, shouting back to the other girl, "What can you do? Can you stop him?"
Katrina felt like she was walking on air. The whole evening felt like a dream. It wasn't just being surrounded by planes that made it so, either. It was being here with Slate that really made the evening perfect. Slate, who probably didn't care nearly as much as she did about inspecting all of these airplanes, except maybe to figure out how to take apart one of their engines. Slate, who had gone to such lengths to bring her here, who always went to such lengths to make her happy. Slate, who was always by her side and knew her better than anyone.
It wasn't too perfect, was it? Slate's hand in hers felt real enough, but she knew better than anyone how deceiving dreams could be.
This isn't a dream, is it?
No, this was 2013. The exact time and place they were supposed to be. Both of them were awake. This was real. Real and perfect.
Why was she planning on moving thousands of miles away, again?
Slate suggested they go outside and Katrina readily agreed. The noise of the gathered crowd was much louder out here. Now that she was up close, she could see what some of their signs said. “Embrace natural flight,” with a picture of a gargoyle, “NYPD = savage pigs,” with a very unflattering depiction of a cop, and “Stop the police brutality,” with a modified traffic controller sign were among the signs floating above the crowd.
So this was one of the protests for mutant rights.
Katrina was a little disturbed by one sign that stated, “The CoH supports this museum.”
Maybe things weren't as perfect as she thought, but just because the Church of Humanity liked airplanes, that didn't make airplanes evil, or airplane museums for that matter.
“What was that?” The little illusionist turned back to Slate just in time to hear the tail end of his question about the airplane, “Oh, yeah. It's a Blériot XI.”
Then Slate was holding her hand and looking deep into her eyes with a look of deep concern about something. He wasn't dumping her was he? He wasn't going to propose that they take a break while she was away at school was he? Katrina bit her lip, afraid to hear how he was going to end his sentence, but he never got the chance.
Something roared, and it was not a plane engine. The teen illusionist turned to look back at the protestors and saw a large scaly green thing rise up over the top of the signs. It had an elongated lizard face with glowing nostrils emitting wisps of smoke. It's eyes were slitted and yellow. Wings so dark they were almost black unfolded above it. In a blink, it was over the fence. Katrina wasn't even sure if it had jumped or simply taken a step forward. That's how big it was.
“Youuuuu,” smoke issued forth as the dragon breathed out the word.
Katrina looked over her shoulder to see who he was talking about.
“Church ssssscum.” This time a lick of fire like a candle flame could be seen leaking out the corner of the beast's mouth.
Not her and Slate then. She pulled him back under the scant cover the airplane provided. The gentleman with the scarred cheeks turned on his heel and fled toward the building. He wasn't the only one, though, so it was impossible to tell who the dragon meant.
“Youuu won't essscape that easssily Edward Shhhhhaw.”
The lizard charged forward after the fleeing gentleman. As it passed, the spiked end of it's tail knocked into one of the planes, leaving a fairly sizable dent in the side. Its claws left deep grooves in the concrete of the runway.
Edward Shaw, it would seem, was in serious trouble.
"Serena," the young illusionist repeated. "What do you know, our names rhyme." The little blonde surveyed the other girl. She was a few inches taller than Katrina, but other than that they looked very similar. Both were slender, both had blonde hair, and both had light colored eyes, though Serena's were the color of the sky, while Katrina's own were the color of a cloudy day. Close, but not exact. She was almost certain the face was familiar, too. With the English accent she almost sounded like she could be...
No, that was impossible. She had said her name was Serena. Not Sarah. This girl couldn't be Zephyr's sister. She was supposed to be a human anyway, wasn't she?
"Are you a new student at the mansion? I feel like I've seen you before. Do you have an older brother?"
Just checking.
The young illusionist used to know every one the moment they walked in the mansion doors, but lately enrollment had grown and she'd been far too busy with her nose stuck in SAT prep books and college application essays to pay any attention.
While they spoke, Katrina got to work carrying sloshy bags of people's life-saving donations back to the refrigerated section of the truck for sorting and storage.
"So, what do you do? The main thing I do is turn invisi..."
The little illusionist (who mainly turned invisible) stopped short in the middle of a word. The door at the back of the van was open already, but she thought that all of the nurses were around the front, not back here. Something or someone was clattering around inside, then the van wobbled and there was some sort of crash.
Something was not right here.
She shifted her load to reach up toward to handle of the door when suddenly the entire door came flying toward her, striking her squarely and knocking her back, right onto her rear end.
Graceful.
Warm liquid seeped down the front of her coat and skirt.
Community service looked good on college applications. Not. That that had anything to do with why Katrina was offering up her time to help with the blood drive.
Nope. She was required to for one of her civics classes at the mansion. But that wasn't why either. She liked helping people, she really did. She just hadn't had much time for it lately, what with all the preparations for the SATs, the ACTs, all the college visits and applications she had to write.
This was actually kind of a nice break from all of that.
The blood-mobile was parked near Central Park. Nurses from the Red Cross did all the actual stabbing of people with needles, thankfully. Volunteers like Katrina were there mostly to help on the sidelines. She waited patiently while someone showed her how to label the bags with the person's information before they were filled up with any liquids, they showed her where the extra stores of bandages were, and the cookies in case anyone was feeling lightheaded, and finally they showed her how to organize the donations in the refrigerated back of the truck.
There was another girl there helping too. Katrina thought she might have been new to the mansion, but wasn't entirely sure. When the nurse finally ended her “how-to” lecture Katrina turned to her co-worker-for-a-day and smiled.
Katrina was trying not to think of the mansion's mailbox. She was waiting for college acceptance letters and staring out the mansion window to watch for the postman was just too nerve wracking to continue doing for much longer, especially since it could take up to two more weeks to find out.
Luckily Slate was a very good distraction.
Katrina didn't know how he had managed to get on the guest list, but they had breezed in the front door without any hassle at all. Everyone else here was an adult. Not that she and Slate weren't adults, since they both were technically, but everyone else was an adult adult.
She felt a little out of place at first, in her sparkly gold dress and a tiny heart locket when it seemed like everyone else was wearing black accented with giant diamond clusters.
The little pilot felt immediately more at home, though, when they rounded the corner past the cocktail bar where she'd only be able to get a Shirley Temple and saw the main exhibit of the brand new museum. There were airplanes. Everywhere. They had everything from a modern military stealth jet that looked like a flattened grey porygon to the old World War I single seaters. Red and gold banners hung from every surface, proudly proclaiming the grand opening of the New York Aerospace Museum.
She grabbed Slates hand and squeezed it in excitement, “Ooh! That's a P-4 Phantom! Oh oh! And a MiG-25!”
The previously nervous teen pulled her boyfriend directly through the formerly intimidating crowd, brushing past a startled looking gentleman with a prominent scar across each cheek to look at a P-52 bomber that stood as a hulking sentinel at the corner of the big atrium. While peeking at one of the engines, she caught a glimpse out of the giant wall of windows at the back of the atrium.
“They have their own airstrip!”
Someone chuckled behind them. The gentleman with the scars seemed to take amusement at her excited and childlike proclamations. Katrina had forgotten that he was there. She had also forgotten she was supposed to be acting like an adult here.
“Yes, that's the aerospace park,” he smiled in a grandfatherly way that made his scars pucker. She could see now that they ran all the way down beneath his chin and connected together. “They will be having an airshow shortly. At the ribbon cutting.”
“Wow,” Katrina breathed. She turned toward the window so she wouldn't make the man uncomfortable by staring at his chin. On the landing strip there seemed to be a large group of people gathering. Some even had some kind of protest signs out. She had to wonder who would ever have cause to protest at a brand new amazingly awesome airplane museum that was clearly exactly what the city of New York needed because airplanes were the most amazing thing ever and everyone should learn about them.
“This is just so cool.” She squeezed Slate's hand gently again, not having let go of it for a second. She hoped he wasn't bored with her. She felt like she was gushing, but she was so excited she couldn't help herself. This was officially the coolest date she had ever been on.
Hi! Sorry I've been gone everyone. T'was the beginning of the school year and everyday life things that were keeping me busy. Please be patient with me while I catch up again.
Katrina couldn't help but gasp when the notebook was opened before her.
Two years ago, blasts had filled the sky with ash and dirt that had settled on top of the world like a blanket. The dust had covered most of the world's colors. Then the skies had cleared and the sun had scorched the land, making it almost into a desert. The sun had burned away whatever had remained of the rainbow. These days the most common colors were shades of gray, brown, and tan. The farms boasted green and battles spilled red. Other than that, colors existed mostly in memory, imagination, and dreams.
Celeste's notebook swam with colors Katrina hadn't seen in years.
“It's beautiful!”
She hesitate before turning the page, unsure if she was allowed to touch the precious book. Then, she couldn't help herself. The next page was just as beautiful, and the next, and the next.
“I... I don't know how I will ever choose!”
There was blue in the exact shade of the sky on a sunny summer day when the heat was nearly too much to bear. There was yellow so brilliant and blinding the word 'neon' didn't even begin to describe it. There was purple and pink swirled together like the sunset on a day when clouds have tried but failed to obscure the suns rays. There was the pink of watermelon. The orange of flames. The red of roses. Sapphire blue. Maroon. Chartreuse. Lime. Teal.
Finally she pointed out five colors that she didn't think she could live without. One of them was a blue that very closely matched Slate's eyes. She didn't pick it for eye color, but because it was a nice colol, or so she told herself. It could have just as easily been Calley's eyes she was trying to match, after all, or Zephyr's.
A devious smile crept across Katrina's face at the thought.
“Of course, if there are too many people to actually fit on the zeppelin, we'll probably just have to hold the party on the ground.” Katrina pondered the logistics of inviting every person she knew. Yeah, there could be some issues with people getting along, but hopefully they'd keep it respectful while at a neutral zone. If not, she'd be one upset birthday girl.
The young illusionist was somewhat lost in thought for a moment as she pondered the logistics of something else as well. Could she actually get the Mona Lisa in this day and age? Could she get to France? Could she get into the Louvre? Was it even still in the Louvre? … Did the Louvre still exist? It was outside the main boundaries of Paris, so probably outside of the blast radius that had hit there. Probably.
Then again, it would be just as difficult to get a hill of beans.
Maybe she could call in a favor from someone who had a dirigible and was probably capable of getting it across the ocean. He'd probably think it was hilarious to break into the french art museum, too. And they could get help from a certain wall-crawler Katrina knew.
It was a thought.
“Maybe you could help me decorate for the party? Zephyr's blimp is a little drab looking. I'm thinking something a little more colorful might be more on the festive side.”
Katrina held out her palm and twirled her the finger of her opposite hand over it, summoning up a little tiny version of the blimp. She swirled her finger again and changed the colors to radically radiant hues swirled in liberal strokes across the canvas surfaces.
