The X-men run missions and work together with the NYPD, striving to maintain a peaceful balance between humans and mutants. When it comes to a fight, they won't back down from protecting those who need their help.
Haven presents itself as a humanitarian organization for activists, leaders, and high society, yet mutants are the secret leaders working to protect and serve their kind. Behind the scenes they bring their goals into reality.
From the time when mutants became known to the world, SUPER was founded as a black-ops division of the CIA in an attempt to classify, observe, and learn more about this new and rising threat.
The Syndicate works to help bring mutantkind to the forefront of the world. They work from the shadows, a beacon of hope for mutants, but a bane to mankind. With their guiding hand, humanity will finally find extinction.
Since the existence of mutants was first revealed in the nineties, the world has become a changed place. Whether they're genetic misfits or the next stage in humanity's evolution, there's no denying their growing numbers, especially in hubs like New York City. The NYPD has a division devoted to mutant related crimes. Super-powered vigilantes help to maintain the peace. Those who style themselves as Homo Superior work to tear society apart for rebuilding in their own image.
MRO is an intermediate to advanced writing level original character, original plot X-Men RPG. We've been open and active since October of 2005. You can play as a mutant, human, or Adapted— one of the rare humans who nullify mutant powers by their very existence. Goodies, baddies, and neutrals are all welcome.
Short Term Plots:Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
The Fountain of Youth
A chemical serum has been released that's shaving a few years off of the population. In some cases, found to be temporary, and in others...?
MRO MOVES WITH CURRENT TIME: What month and year it is now in real life, it's the same for MRO, too.
Fuegogrande: "Fuegogrande" player of The Ranger, Ion, Rhia, and Null
Neopolitan: "Aly" player of Rebecca Grey, Stephanie Graves, Marisol Cervantes, Vanessa Bookman, Chrysanthemum Van Hart, Sabine Sang, Eupraxia
Ongoing Plots
Magic and Mystics
After the events of the 2020 Harvest Moon and the following Winter Solstice, magic has started manifesting in the MROvere! With the efforts of the Welldrinker Cult, people are being converted into Mystics, a species of people genetically disposed to be great conduits for magical energy.
The Pharoah Dynasty
An ancient sorceress is on a quest to bring her long-lost warrior-king to the modern era in a bid for global domination. Can the heroes of the modern world stop her before all is lost?
Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
Adapteds
What if the human race began to adapt to the mutant threat? What if the human race changed ever so subtly... without the x-gene.
Atlanteans
The lost city of Atlantis has been found! Refugees from this undersea mutant dystopia have started to filter in to New York as citizens and businessfolk. You may make one as a player character of run into one on the street.
Got a plot in mind?
MRO plots are player-created the Mods facilitate and organize the big ones, but we get the ideas from you. Do you have a plot in mind, and want to know whether it needs Mod approval? Check out our plot guidelines.
I know how frustrating it is to not be able to do something useful, to try and just have the whole thing go poorly anyway. It seems that no matter how much we may want to, not everyone can go jetting around the world trying to help out wherever there is trouble. Maybe we both just have to do what we can from home. Thanks to perfectprime for the link, I'm going to forward it to as many people as I can to help build support for the mutant cause in Romania. I think it takes a whole bunch of people, not just one, to make a change. One letter to a Senator won't make a difference, but a hundred might help him change his mind on something; my dad was a senator, I've seen it happen! Perhaps the time has come to open up your silent heart and speak out what you feel!
I agree with you Mutany on the subject of education. I think that people fear what they don't know, so the more education people have the less nervous they will be about people who are different. It will probably take a long time to make a difference in people's minds. We had a civil rights movement to get equal rights for people of all skin colors but there are still racists out there. Hopefully someday we can all be treated as equals, but first we must all learn about our differences.
Are mutants and humans the same? No and yes. Mutants have abilities that humans do not have. Yet, we all can act irrationally or reason through something, make enemies or friends, destroy or create, hate, love, fight, or fight for peace. To me, that's what makes someone “human”, not genes so small we can't even see it.
White or black (yellow, green, or red), powers or not, we all have a job to do to make this world a better place.
=^.^=
P.S. Perfectprime, I don't think killing and saving are the same thing. If your goal is to have a peaceful world, you can't use violence to get there or it is meaningless. That's what “pax” means doesn't it? Peace? Look at the recent bombing in Romania; all it caused was chaos, death, and destruction. No one's mind was changed by that terrorist act unless it simply made them more fearful of mutants. You can't force people to change their minds, especially not through fear and killing, you can only convince them slowly.
Katrina tickle-chin nodded her golden haired head to Calley's first question. To Slate's, she did the mental equivalent, if there was such a thing. Out loud she added quietly, "To feel better you have to forgive yourself, too."
If they were doing the math right, the future was only nine years away. Somehow by the time she was twenty three she had to grow up into a strong confident woman who could teach, travel to foreign countries, and walk through the Valley of Death. She didn't think there was ever a way she could be ready for all of that in such a short time. Even just the teaching part seemed overwhelming to accomplish in such a short time considering she still couldn't even pass a geography test without help.
“Is that what's going to really happen?” She watched the stained light dance across the pews. Light colors and dark all mixed together; the bad and the good were all connected. The disease, war, and dead dragon couldn't be separated from the baby mermaid, the friendships with the unicorn and the lioness, the confidence her future self had. Was that all destiny? There were parts that she did want to come true and other parts that she didn't, but was it really fair to pick and choose only the parts of your destiny that were desirable? Was it even possible?
“I suppose I better brush up on math and geography before I become a teacher.”
It was still winter. No matter how often the weather forecasters promised warmer days in the near future, no matter how often optimistic people commented on how much warmer it seemed outside, no matter how many fool hardy robins had returned from their temporary southern homes; it was still winter. Cold. Snowy. Dark. And cold.
Katrina felt as though she had never fully thawed out after her Christmas adventure, and it was going to take more than the promise of a couple of wintry sun beams filtering through the striped slats of the blinds to make her feel warm again. And yet "Spring" semester had arrived.
The little illusionist waddled into the classroom, well padded by her turtleneck and two sweaters, two pairs of sweatpants (with long underwear underneath), a double layer of socks, and fingerless gloves. Her hair was long enough again to flip outward under the edge of her colorfully striped stocking cap. With a shiver, she surveyed her under dressed classmates; the room was far from full with only four other students, but chances were they wouldn't be getting too many more than that. Xavier's was a pretty small school.
All boys, two she knew very well (one of whom had kissed her once) and two she didn't know as well (one of whom had sort of saved her life, sort of, after she saved him first). Normally Katrina might have chosen to sit in the front row, but today Koga was already there and it might be awkward to sit right next to him (though she did attempt a smile on the way past). Calley and Griffin-boy were in the back looking about as sulky as Katrina was feeling, so today, at least for homeroom, she was going to sit by them.
The only girl in the room wuffed all her layers into her seat with a half hearted "good morning" to the perma-winged boy and a somewhat impressed sounding "you actually came" to the sometimes furry, feathered, and/or scaled one. And slump.
The insufferable little creatures wriggled around on the ground to lick each other's wounds. Cthulhu could have cared less, but not by a very large margin; he had other things to deal with at the moment, namely an inordinate amount of liquid falling from the sky and filling up his makeshift body from the inside.
He had thought it would be fun to answer the summons of the little children, to wreak a little havoc on a poor unsuspecting world. He hadn't realized at the time the limitations of the physical body he had been offered. His spirit was strong, but without his own magnificent physical self, he had less control over the physical elements of this puny little world. It was annoying and quickly becoming not worth the fight. Even his efforts to take the puny little life form that had forced the water bearing vehicle down his throat had failed due to the limitations of the hydrous aluminum silicate.
Even his small traitorous bent wire brethren was was able to defeat the grey muck that he was quickly becoming.
Cthulhu bellowed something that was both incomprehensible to earthly ears and much too rude to translate then abandoned the clay altogether, letting it slump into a shapeless pile of sludge.
Back in his own body, on his own world again, he brooded.
Earth. It was more formidable than he had thought. The climate and even the inhabitants had actually challenged him, which hadn't happened in as long as he could remember.
Earth. He had resolved to put the incident out of his mind, but still caught himself wondering what would have happened if he had been cloaked in his own radiant form rather than the inferior earth-mineral one. Would it still have been a challenge?
Earth. He'd have to go back there someday. Crushing and killing was more fun when it was a challenge, and the little blue and green planet had definitely offered a challenge.
Earth. Soon.
Cthluhu smiled inwardly and returned to a well earned sleep. His dreams were dark, as always.
Away from this world, a dark cave for his bed Cthulhu lies dreaming of an Earth cold and dead The darkness of space looked down where he lay The Old One, Cthulhu, defeated this day
He roared and he groaned about his defeat He left behind his clay body and then did retreat But back on his planet he made a dark plan Some day he'd return to complete what he began
Beware, all ye earthlings rejoicing this night You're injured and tired, but survived the plight Rest and get healthy, before fate does turn prepare yourself well for Cthulhu's return...
*hugs to Were* We'll keep thinking of you. Good luck and thanks for the update!
*waves a sign that says "listen to Raina's tunes"* She's awesome, guys. I listened last time she did a live performance, and it is well worth dedicating a small part of your evening to hear her.
*looks sheepish* I'm sorry I haven't been on much the past *checks calendar* month. Yikes. RL got crazy busy, but only in good ways. I'm still getting up an extra hour early with puppies every day (and they don't understand what sleeping in on the weekends is all about). I'm still substitute teaching (yay employment). And for those of you who didn't see on the sbox or hear the rumors, I'm recently engaged. As a crazy side effect, I find myself plotting color schemes and flower arrangements even in my sleep. I'm not sure that I'll be coming back down from cloud 9 for awhile, but I guess they have internet up here, too. I'll try to be better about posting sooner rather than later.
Katrina was floating through a grey world, half in and half out of consciousness. She could feel the wind and the rain, but she didn't know she was falling until a pair of claws reached out from the sky to grab onto her. The sharp pain in her upper arm sent colorful sparks of angry red and purple through her vision, infusing it with color once again and bringing her sharply back into her senses again. She was still falling.
Still falling. She barely had time to think it or to start panicking before the claws again grasped her upper arms and jerked her upwards again. Her breath caught in her throat as her body pulled down in the opposite direction her shoulders were now traveling. They swung through the air, buffeted by the rush of hot air and pressure from the explosion. They were knocked askew by a flailing tentacle that smacked her hard across the legs and tried to curl around the limbs to trap them in place.
The rain had made the tentacle slimy and soft, it didn't hold up to the pressure of the griffin pulling them away and it broke off, still wrapped around her leg. That didn't stop it from wriggling and writhing around her foot. Katrina shrieked and tried to kick it free, but it stuck there. The kicking jarred her shoulders and caused the griffin's talons to sink in deeper to her upper arms, but he still didn't let go. Katina gasped again in pain. Kicking = bad idea. The strain on her arms was incredibly painful and the position she hung in was making it very difficult to breath.
They had to get out of the air.
Someone waved orange lights at them. She could see them through the haze of the rain easier than she could pick out any of the other details. That's where they seemed to be heading. Thank goodness. She could have cried from relief, if she wasn't already crying from pain and sheer terror.
They were almost there! Then they rolled in the air. Katrina was facing the sky with a feathery bed beneath her. A second later she felt the impact of them hitting the ground. What little breath she had left was knocked out of her lungs, and her landing had been much softer than the griffin boys would have been. The sky kept moving as they slid across the ground and finally skidded to a halt at the base of a tree.
Katrina coughed and pointed, trying to get her breath back. The tree, was it supposed to be on fire?
(Attn skimmers: Mini claythulhus are trying to suffocate you. Also, the trees are on fire from the explosion.)
One giant clay Cthulhu + two flying bus halves + three shopping carts full of gasoline = gigantic explosion of epic proportions so fiery and fierce that it inspires poets and writers to laud its concussive force, extol its brilliant colors, exalt its heat, glorify its destructive properties, and proclaim to the world that here, in Central Park on a rainy Christmas Eve, there was an explosion! Granted, it is a bit difficult to scribble either poetry or prose dedicated to such a spectacle when one deeply is concerned with running for dear life. The explosion's feelings are not hurt by the lack of words dedicated to the burning destruction it caused. It understands and hugs everyone with flames of fiery forgiveness.
The flame tendrils hugged even the towering Cthulhu who paused as if surprised for a moment, but then kept up his attacks despite the fire's embrace. His clay tentacles reached under and around and through the quickly dissipating flames to wrap around his victims where they would writhe and attempt escapes. As the remains of the fire smoldered in the lower layers of the trees where the leaves were still dry, Cthulhu stomped and roared, reached and grasped.
Have you ever tried to light mud on fire in a rain storm? It is a largely futile effort. The gasoline that had splashed all over him burned, but down below the clay did not burn. It did start to dry out a little bit, forming a flaky outer shell over the body of the clay beast, but the heat was no where near intense enough to fully dry clay that was several feet thick. While it didn't hinder him much, it was an annoyance to the Old One. These little mortals were not dying as quickly as he expected they would, and he grew tired of their puny efforts to stop him. This distraction had gone on long enough, it was about time the insects died. He pulled a smallish one off his back and threw it as far as he could. Hopefully he'd land on sharp pointy things. Cthulhu smiled at the thought (not that anyone could see it under the writhing tentacles).
The other thing that was annoying was the water falling from the sky. On his home world, he had control over such trifles as the weather. Here, for some reason, he had lost his connection to the elements and could not command the drizzle as he wished. The moisture was great for his complexion, but not so wonderful for his overall consistency. Those that continued to annoy him by climbing up his back might notice that the moist clay was getting much more slimy. Those that attempted to wriggle out of his grasp might find that his grip was slippery. And when sword blades came a-chopping, the tentacles were much softer than they should have been and much easier to cut.
A fly buzzed around his head, carrying a very small insect with yellow hair. Absent mindedly, the claythulhu beast swatted at them. His tentacle hit the girl across the legs which sent the pair swinging wildly though the sky, but also damaged his clay form as the pair flew off with a part of a tentacle still sticking to them. The thinner tendrils just couldn't hold together in this rain.
It was time to change strategies.
The great clay beast cupped his hands together, forming a ball of moist clay. This ball he threw at the flying anvil wielder. Another ball formed just as quickly in his hands which he launched at the girl waving the flaming branches. Target number three staggered around checking to make sure they were still alive: the two girls that had managed to escape his slippery clay grasp. The clay balls kept coming, and with each ball formed, Cthulhu grew imperceptibly smaller.
The clay missles unfurled in the air just before reaching their targets to reveal that they were miniature versions of Cthulhu himself, if lanky eight foot tall tentacle monsters can be called miniature. These clay beasts were not concerned with their own personal well being. They were not concerned with hitting their opponents with their slippery tentacles or dodging to avoid opponents hits. Their only goal was to latch onto the face of their prey and hold on until they suffocated, and this end they pursued with the single mindedness of a single worker in a colony of insects. They were fearless and relentless.
Sing, choirs of mortals Sing in desperation Sing, all ye citizens of lowly Earth Gore to Cthulhu Gore most repulsive Oh come let us abhor him Oh come let us abhor him Oh come let us abhor him Cthulhu fhtagn
In her clambering, Katrina had completely forgotten that she was holding onto the griffin boy's clothing. Until a clay tentacle reached up to grab at the stack, twisting its way blindly around the folds of the cloth. Katrina pulled at the same time the griffin lurched up into the sky. The tentacle kept the shirt. Katrina kept the pants. The goggles hung by the strap around her wrist as she threw her arms around the feathery neck in front of her and hung on for dear life.
The rhythmic movements of wing muscles beneath her and the deafening, logic defying, voiceboxless roars of the clay beast were all she was aware of for those few moments as they climbed higher into the sky. Tightly she gripped with her hands and her knees. Tightly closed were her eyes. As the moments of not falling to her death grew longer, she eventually dared to peek again. All she could see was dark clouds. She leaned just a hair to the side to survey the scene below, but raindrops stung her eyes and she couldn't see through all the blinking.
Goggles. She had goggles wrapped around her wrist. Katrina decided that they might help with the visibility and the griffin didn't seem to need them at the moment, so he probably wouldn't mind if she borrowed them for awhile. Somehow she managed to maneuver the goggles over her eyes and get the strap stretched around her head with one hand while the other remained firmly embedded in the feathery fur on the griffin's neck. With her red ninja scarf streaming out behind her like a banner and the borrowed goggles protecting her eyes, Aviator Kat surveyed the scene down below.
“Chaos” barely began to describe everything that was happening on the ground. “Mayhem” failed to depict the scope of the crashing bus, exploding firework, flying anvil, flashing katana, shopping cart, branch dodging knight, ninjaing lizard, floating drag queen, and slimy, grey, groping tentacle action that all seemed to be occurring simultaneously down on the ground. “Bedlam” did not measure up, nor did “Pandemonium”.
“Look out,” she tried to yell at the girls who were in imminent danger of being grabbed by the blindly flailing tentacles. Her voice was whipped away by the wind and the only person who could possibly have heard her was the griffin boy. Her tried to turn to look at her and click some sort of message through his beak, but she couldn't understand what he meant by it.
They circled, and Aviator Kat could see the damage done by the bus to the monster's leg. She could also see as a new clay leg squished and squelched its way out of the stump to form an entirely new appendage. The old leg, or what was left of it, seemed to disintegrate where it was splattered across the bus and raindrops washed it away as Koga dashed out of the bus and slashed a brach out of the air like a real hero. The little aviator illusionist wished that she could be so heroic and actually be helpful in a situation like this.
Cthulhu, for the first time, seemed to notice that something had damaged it when the bus had hit. It let out another impossible bellow and grabbed at the bus with both hands. Tree trunk fingers squeezed metal until the public transportation vehicle started to crumple, then twisted until it ripped down the middle. Aviator Kat could only watch as the clay abhorrence hurled the twisted pieces toward the chain of three shopping carts.
“Run!” She yelled, both out loud with her wind stolen voice and a more steady illusion voice that would seem like it was yelling directly in the ears of everyone down below. There were too many people. Her vision seemed to go grey, her grip automatically loosened as her consciousness wavered, and she began to slip.
It came upon a midnight drear to a land both dark and cold The Old One stalks the earth this night And strikes at heroes bold “Hell on the earth, and death to all From Vhoorl's dark unholy king” Seemed to cry the unholy monster As his roar through the night did ring!
With all the woes of sin and strife The world has suffered long But its nothing compared to the agony of those who hear Cthulhu's song! Look out! Ye lowly mortals there The ancient horror flings a bus to-wards your shopping carts Filled with explosive things!
(Attn skimmers: imminent bus hitting gasoline filled shopping carts explosion. Also, Kat's voice yelling as if she's right next to you when she is really up in the air.)
Good luck on finals and safe travels, Zephyr and everyone else who has to deal with things like that at this busy time of year!
Also, puppies. They are both cute and time consuming, so I'll be slightly less active while I teach them not to eat the Christmas tree or pee in the house.
Pitiful creatures swarmed beneath it, defiling the ground with their very existence. Futilely they attempted to mount an assault on the supreme unholy Old One, but even a thousand slashes and cuts such as they dealt would do nothing to stop the carnage that would occur this evening. There was blood to be had, and Cthulhu reveled at the thought of drinking their pitiful mortal souls and gorging himself on their battered corpses afterwards.
Despite the great beast's floccinaucinihilipilification, the minuscule animals continued their useless attempts to injure its clay flesh with negligible projectiles. A twig was thrown at its face, and something tried to throw a handful of iron pebbles at its back. These barely even registered as a slight tickle to the monster's senses.
A gaping maw ripped itself open, and a gigantic cavity appeared on Cthulhu's nightmarish face. Air rushed into its newly furrowed lungs, then was released again in a mightily resounding roar. Clay slicked tentacles vibrated from the power of its bellow, and moist clay droplets sprayed those pitiful creatures unfortunate enough to be standing in front of him. This was not a cry of pain or frustration; this was not an outraged howl; this, poor miserable mortals, was laughter.
They had not appreciated the quick twiggy death he had offered them? Perhaps something a little slower, then. With a ground shaking smack, the Horror of Horrors smashed his hands into the wet ground. Then, he reached. Twenty yards away, mud and muck stirred and fresh slimy brown appendages twisted and thrashed upwards into existence. Reaching again, Cthulhu's tentacles sought to ensnare the legs of any who dared approach their demise rather than scamper off with all due terror.
A little blond girl had no time to be surprised at the derobing and griffinification of the young mansion student in front of her. No matter how disturbing his transformation had been, it was not as terrifying as what awaited them if they didn't get off the ground now. Unholy tentacle death was imminent.
“Eeee!” She shrieked and clambered onto his furry feathered back. “Go, go, go! Please, go!”
Tumultuous night, unholy night Ninjas and knights join in the fight Round yon park, rages bat-tle Prepare to be slaughtered like cat-tle Sleep forever more Sleep forever more
Tumultuous night, unholy night Young mutants quake at the sight Horrors stream from hell below Clay tentacles deal death blows Beware the groping appendage Beware the groping appendage
Tumultuous night, unholy night Shall any survive this tentacle-y plight? Unholy appendages writhe on its face Demonic wings stretch up into space Cthulhu reigns on Earth Cthulhu reigns on Earth
Katrina ducked her head in a gaze dodging, guilty manner. Even if he did speak that line without any sadness in his voice, id still made her feel guilty for reminding him that he wasn't fortunate to have a living mother to care about what he did with his life.
>>>“Yours however is not and cares for you deeply, yet you choose to abandon her in order to gamble your life away on this puerile pursuit. A cruel way to repay a mothers kindness."
And she did have one of those; a mom to constantly worry over whether she was eating enough vegetables, or spending enough time socializing, or playing her oboe often enough, or practicing her illusions on a regular basis. It was just that sometimes her protection was kind of constricting, even when she did mean it for the best.
She wasn't trying to gamble her life away. She just... needed a bit more adventure than sitting around the mansion all the time. She had done that, all summer and into the fall she had kept herself cooped up recovering from her last 'adventure'. She had eventually gotten so stir crazy that she had jumped at the first opportunity for an adventure. She thought she had taken enough safety precautions this time; she wasn't going alone, she wasn't going on Fausto's missions with him; just hanging out and helping out as best she could at wherever the base was like she had done during for the American Resistance, and mostly staying invisible as much as possible.
Yet, that probably wasn't a good enough explanation for her mother, which is why she hadn't given it to her in the first place. Nor would it be a good enough explanation for the air elemental sitting next to her. The little illusionist bit her lip and continued to stare at her lap, trying to think of any actual good reasons for being on this plane right now. She couldn't think of any.
Curse Dio, and his guilt-inducing logic. She looked up at him out of the corner of her eyes. He was rubbing at his temples like Katrina had given him a big headache.
“If my mother were your mother and she were here... she'd ask you if you wanted a cold wash cloth for your eyes. Should I get one for you?” Her tone was apologetic, and even though she didn't come right out and say she was sorry; she was.
Fausto followed Koga, but his movements seemed to be jerky like a robots'. It was almost as if his body was here with them, but his mind was far away, thinking about something deep. Somehow they got the sleeping bags all unrolled and Katrina took the middle one. Fausto sat next to her like a statue while Koga bustled around the room getting everything ready.
Katrina tried to put her hand on top of Fausto's to see if he would respond to her, but no sooner had she done that then Koga handed her a bag of popcorn so she could help him open it. It was a two handed job, which meant Koga couldn't do it, and Katrina couldn't help and still hold Fausto's hand. Bad timing.
She opened the bag and dumped it into the bowl. The warm buttery smell filled up the room, driving any memory of damp sewer smells from her nose. The opening theme of Koga's show chased away phantom echoes of dripping water. Good company, flanking her on either side made her forget for a time the stranger who had made her life so miserable.
“I'll have... do you have orange Crock-aide? If not, whatever flavor you have is fine.” Katrina looked around Koga's room, really taking it in; swords, television, mini fridge, enough room for two people. She decided he definitely had a cooler room than she did. She'd have to come hang out here more often.
The first episode of the show was just silly enough to be perfect for this situation. Katrina especially liked the escape plan the two characters had to get out of their underground village; create a stampeding tower of mole pigs and ride them to freedom. Great stuff, that. She also liked that one of the main characters was a kid like her even if he was kind of a wimp right now, surely he'd learn by the end of the show.
Episode two was just as action packed as the first, but she didn't pay as close attention. Her eyes were getting heavier and heavier until she was just listening and not watching. The multitude of explosions and people yelling things like, “俺を誰だと思ってやがる!!!” kept startling her awake again, but soon even those noises didn't her flinch as her dreams took over where the anime had left off.