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.
The first thing she noticed after the door to the jet opened was the heat. The second was the smell. Tropical flowers somehow seemed to smell so much more than the kinds generally available for sticking into vases in the middle of winter in the northern climes.
Katrina had actually had to put her clothes away in drawers to make room for them all. Every surface was covered. The window sill, the desk top, the dresser, even a large corner of the floor.
It made it difficult to find things, such as her hairbrush, when she needed it. The only outlet available for the curling iron was behind several vases full of gladiolas and pansies. It was already dark outside, and she felt like she was wasting so much time climbing over all these silly vases just to get ready for one simple date.
Somehow she managed to get her hair curled, though she was now down one vase of tulips and there was a wet pile of paper towels in her little waste paper basket. She managed to do her own eye shadow, copying what her mother had done for her interview not too long ago.
She should have realized that it was futile to curl her hair. Already in the first two minutes the humidity was undoing what it had taken her so much time to do.
Oh, fated interview, the start of this whole flower escapade!
She had a floral print dress that would have been perfect for this occasion, but she really didn't feel like wearing it. Really. Instead she opted for a light green halter topped sundress, with her usual bike shorts underneath. For the cold weather segment of this evening, she had her coat and the teal wool scarf Slate had given her for Christmas. These she tucked under her arm with another colorful garment she had picked up just in case.
Checking herself in the mirror, she deemed herself presentable. She made a quick phone call, to double and triple check that she had her reservations all made properly and her permissions in order.
“We're so glad you could come,” the researcher smiled and extended her hand in greeting to the two new arrivals to the island. The setting sun threw her companion's cat ears into sharp relief. The second sunset of the day was much prettier than the first, which had been mostly just a gradual darkening of grey to black.
Finally she walked down to Slate's room to see how his preparations were coming (perhaps with the hidden motivation to make sure he didn't use too much gel in his hair). She poked her head in through the doorway.
“Hey, you ready yet? You're... not mad at me are you?” The little illusionist bit her lip.
She may have been feeling just a little bit guilty lately about how busy she was lately, and the flower thing, and all the suitors that kept metaphorically knocking on her door with their constant stream of videos and flowers routed through the church address, and selling him at an auction to the highest bidder (though he did bring in much more money than any other suitor and pretty much single handedly funded then entire ultimate frisbee season).
Katrina called out the description of the man to the police. Several of them went running.
She ran, too, to get a little closer. A sleepy crimson tentacle waved from the stretcher as she passed. She didn't have time to stop and make sure she was okay; she had to see what was going on in the alley way. It was harder when there were several walls and several police officers in the way.
Red lines streaked her crows, to match the wall behind the girl. When the bricks exploded, so did the birds. The remnants disappeared when they hit the ground, for ease of keeping track of everything.
Go, now! Slate and the girl were invisible. In their place cowered another Slate and another girl with black feathers clinging to their sticky faces in the same places they had been sticking to the real ones.
Muting on an ability? She could make the girl feel nothing, but she couldn't do nothing at the same time she could do something. Those two types of illusions didn't seem to mesh up very well.
Crows swirled, invisible boyfriends ran towards her dragging invisible blowing-things-up-girls, see through cops swarmed the alley, and a mean looking attacker clapped his hands together which caused a really bright light to appear between his palms, and...
Immediate backup? There wasn't really such a thing as immediate, was there? Did he really mean immediate, or as soon as possible?
This was Slate, of course he meant immediate in the most literal way possible. First, immediate backup, then the police. Too bad they didn't have anyone else on the X-men available to just show up in the jet. Katrina wracked her brain for ideas, then settled on one, or got stuck really.
Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye,
A cloud darkened the sky above Slate, the young and terrified girl, and the unsavory man.
Four and twenty thousand blackbirds descend from the sky.
With the ravens swooping down, providing a shield for Slate and some small amount of pecking for everyone else in his vicinity, immediate backup was achieved.
Now, to rally the police; the little illusionist stepped out from behind her wall, visible now to the world, or rather the computer, and pointed towards where Slate had gone.
“She's innocent, the real culprit went that way!”
I need a description of him, quick, or they're going to think it was you.
Katrina dropped the invisibility illusion on Slate, gladly. She was juggling a lot, and with him off on his own where she couldn't see him through numerous layers of partially visible walls, it made it that much more complicated to keep that particular illusion going.
The real cops, or rather, the pretend danger room's cops came and mingled in with her illusions. She started dropping the ones that no one was paying attention to, too, letting them disappear behind dumpsters or cars and not reappear.
She was starting to get a bit of a headache keeping everything straight while looking through a half visible wall.
Illusion!Kat rubbed her temples, in an imitation of what Real!Kat was doing at the moment, and asked the tentacle lady from her safe distance, “Who is 'she'?”
The real cops were fanning out, shielded behind their cars, pointing guns at the crimson tentacle lady.
“Let us not do anything rash before considering all of the alternatives,” Illusion!Slate warned.
The crimson tentacle lady didn't seem to pleased by the cops crowding in closer and closer, “Go-ooooooh.”
Tentacles waved, a cop loaded what looked like a tranquilizer needle into a gun, Illusion!Kat rushed forward and put her hand out to stop him, saying, “Wait. Listen to what she is say....”
It was too little, too late. The dart flew, hitting the between two writhing tentacles just as a bright flash and a boom overtook the whole group. The cops ducked behind cars even as the cars were pushed outward by the explosion. Illusion!Slate and Illusion!Kat vanished as holographic cop cars flew through where they had previously been standing.
Real!Katrina was knocked backwards, hitting the pavement hard on her backside. The explosion, and possibly the overuse of complicated illusions, was making her ears ring. She thought someone was saying her name, but it was only half real, like it was all in her head.
Which, of course it was.
Sorry, male? I'll see what I can see.
She picked herself up and dusted herself off, then went back to peer through the wall. Without trying to maintain multiple illusions, seeing through the holograms was a little easier. She squinted at the scene, trying to pick out anything she might have missed before.
It was a mess. Also, pretty much every character rushing around, pulling out stretchers for prone crimson tentacle ladies, calling for backup on the radio, was male. She'd have a hard time picking out anyone in particular.
I made it to work today, despite horrible driving conditions after a night of rain, then sleet, then freezing rain, then snow... (I only spun backwards on the freeway once, and was perfectly fine) ... only to be called and told that school is cancelled today.
So that means I get to get stuff done all day long. The downside, of course, is that the cbox doesn't work with the silly internet restrictions at school. Boo.
The more Katrina thought about it, the more she believed it: Alister was hiding something. Out of all of them, he was the one that demanded the most information from everyone else, yet shared the least with them. What he did share was carefully worded to only give them the barest minimum of what they needed to know to get done what Alister said needed to get done.
She didn't like it. She was certain he was using them, and yet, she knew it was for a good cause. He was the one that rallied them, it was his cause they were fighting for, it was on his word that they all jumped to help stop impending doom.
She didn't want to quit. She just didn't want to be kept in the dark any more.
All of the secrets, all of the unexplained orders, she wanted to understand the puzzle pieces better.
The biggest one nagging on her mind was the snippet of Alister's future that she had seen be wandering into his dream. Who had he been planning to kill? Why had he been so angry that she had overheard part of that conversation? What else was he hiding in that labyrinthine mind? What exactly was the master plan for not ending the world? Because the part of it she had seen, she hadn't particularly liked.
She wanted to talk to someone about it, bet there was a shortage of people who would understand. The Oracle kids were a pretty tight knit group, so she didn't want to discuss her reservations with anyone that was really close to Alister. Then again, with his ability, he probably already knew if she was going to betray him before she even considered it a possibility.
The most level headed, trustworthy person she could think of to talk to about her reservations was Jude. He understood a great deal about how Alister's powers worked and he hadn't been with the Oracle kids as long as everyone else. In addition, he had a sort of connection to Katrina in the way that he had experienced a grown up world, then been thrown back into childhood again. For awhile, at least. Now he was mostly an adult.
When Katrina arrived at Future Sight, Jude and Alister were locked in a staring contest in the kitchen. She didn't want to disturb them if they were doing something important, nor did she want to find out what they were looking for by touching one of them and seeing the visions for herself. Alister was suspicious enough of her doing that before she had started becoming so suspicious of him.
No, she'd wait out in the front room until they were quite finished. She had a Serbian composition to write anyway: a paper defending the actions of a former politician with whom she agreed. It had to be completely in Serbian, with a maximum of 30 grammar errors or she had to redo the entire thing. Her rough draft was almost complete. She settled down in one of the plush purple chairs with her notebook and a dictionary for looking up those words she hadn't ever needed to use when she was actually in Serbia.
Did the woman not answer because she was going to kill and eat them now, or did she not answer because there were now tentacles where her mouth should have been? It wasn't quite clear.
Illusion!Katrina bent to encourage one last injured person as she staggered to her feet and hobbled toward safety. Real!Katrina wished her illusions could actually have helped support the poor woman as she walked. Illusion!Slate backed away, toward the barrier of police cruisers on the street, healing two people with a touch as he passed. The last two he could have helped.
The crimson tentacle beast lady was... inspecting the bodies? Doing something to them, anyway.
“Put your tentacles in the air!” A cop shouted with great authority, he may have looked like a certain Latino detective. Sounded like him, too.
The tentacle lady ignored them, continuing her search through the victims that hadn't been lucky enough to receive Illusion!Slate's ministrations.
“We'll shoot!” These were dramatic guys, these illusion cops.
“Wait,” Illusion!Katrina stepped out from behind her alley wall, waving to the faux police officers, “She hasn't done anything wrong, technically.” At least, not yet.
The crimson tentacle beast lady turned toward them. Though, it was hard to tell the difference now between her front and back. The front, if anything, was even more tentacle-y than the back. From some sort of mouth, hidden somewhere on her body, there issued a sound like liquid being forcibly sucked through a pipe. Listening carefully, it almost sounded like words.
Katrina smiled and nodded at the detective, it was indeed quite the turnout. That didn't mean they would make much money, though. It all depended on what the bidders were willing to give.
“We'll see, I suppose. Thank you, though, for your support. I'm glad you could come and that you are willing to share Coach T with the frisbee team now and then.”
It was at that point that Calley returned from his mission. He was not stomping, and not sulking at all. And, above all, he was not glaring at Cafas. At least, he'd never admit that he was.
“Uh, excuse me for a minute,” she slipped away from the cop to see what it was Calley wanted. He gave her his two cents, muttered something about ice cream on him, then stalked away again to continue sulking.
Two cents?
The verbal expression or the literal object? Slate was so helpful.
Literal object, the little illusionist clarified.
Ah. Did you find more in the couch? I do not believe it would help to outbid Kaitlyn, but I thank you for the thought.
No, she didn't think so either. Maybe she was supposed to outbid someone else, though. When she checked the bidding sheets it became apparent what the two cents were for. Katrina wrote $16.29 under Calley's name, wondering if perhaps Calley hadn't given Cafas as nice a Christmas present as Cafas had given him, or something like that. Why else would he bid only one penny more on his own boyfriend room mate?
There wasn't much time left to bid when she wrote her number. In fact, she was surprised to hear someone else announce that the official bidding had finished. She had let it run over by a whole three minutes by not watching the clock!
The results were full of surprises. The biggest bidders were in the thousands of dollars, more than the little illusionist ever could have imagined earning. Jorge, of all people, had bid on her, and won. She won the penny bidding war against Cafas for the honor of ice cream cones on Calley, though Katrina would never let him get away with just ice cream. Slate was purchased by Kaitlyn, who was much richer than Katrina had thought. Maxine walked off with the winning bid on cute little Michael, and Katrina wondered if he'd end up on the air because of it.
From “Kitten” to “Sweety” in under a minute. These silly men and their silly names for women. She'd show them that she wasn't just some cute little blonde damsel in distress. She was a zombie slaying warrior! One who could keep a level head in a battle when others were freaking out over small little things like nearly getting hit by a car and then celebrating with kisses before the battle was even over.
At least the cop listened to her and did radio in for help. That was a relief to know. Maybe Detective Cerventes would come after all. Sirens started, far, far in the distance.
Everything about this night was surreal. Now that the immediate shock of danger was past, it felt a little like being in a real life video game, though not one Katrina would ever choose to play. She and Aedus continued with their two player version, keeping the fence around the graveyard to their right. There was a gate on each side of the cemetery. One was already closed. Numbers two and three were no problem, as there were no zombies currently pouring out of them. It was quick work to pull them closed and latch them tight.
Gate number four was where things got a little hairy. There was still an active line staggering past through these gates. What's more, their group of friends was now on the opposite side of this line. If they fired their weapons and missed, the bullets might fly right at their allies.
“If you can clear out the part of the path closest to the gate, I can try to swing it closed. I'll be able to get a better angle from there, too.” As in, less directly aiming at friends in case she missed. The last things she wanted to do was hit friendlies.
“Ready? 3...2...1...” Go! Katrina took off sprinting, slipping into the little triangle area between the fence and the gate, protected, somewhat be wrought iron bars. The bars kept zombie heads from forcing their way through, but didn't stop their hands from pulling at her hair. The little illusionist used the back of the gun to smash at the hands that tried to scratch her face.
“Hurry,” she begged Aedus. The sooner he got the undead out of her way, the sooner she could swing this last gate shut once and for all.
Shin was disappointed. He was not very forthcoming, however, in the reason why he was disappointed. Katrina gulped, now certain that she had done something wrong, but just as certain that she wasn't going to go fishing for the answer by asking something dumb like 'Oh, why are you disappointed?'
The teenager in her was tempted to retort with something sarcastic, such as 'Why, did your sports team lose?' It wasn't really her style to talk back to authority figures, though, unless they were named Detective Cerventes, but that was because they had an understanding.
She wasn't left with much of anything to say, actually.
“I'm sorry,” sorry to hear that, that was. Not sorry for whatever it was she had done, at least not yet, because she didn't know what that was. She finished up the last few items on her post-flight checklist and turned to make sure the rations she had brought along were all packed up again so she could return the to the kitchen for the next snack emergency.
Not a bad idea. I know some people, who don't have room in the signature for a single extra character, do give credit to the models of deviantart when they use them, sometimes linking directly to their pages. It's something maybe we could all get into the habit of doing. Thanks for bringing this up Emmy!
Katrina wasn't sure how to feel about this whole interview thing. First of all, she hadn't really signed up for this whole flower contest thing, but since Calley had gone along with her selling him for Valentine's Day, she felt like when he wanted to raise money for his church soup kitchen she didn't really have a choice. Why he was even hanging around Sebastian's church completely baffled her, but she had been too busy to figure out what he had been up to lately, what with the valentine auction and now this flower thing.
Second, she wasn't sure how she felt about being interviewed by Maxine Ralls, in particular. The reporter had donated to her frisbee team's fundraiser by bidding on one of the eligible bachelors, so she must have some redeeming qualities... but Katrina had seen far too many of her news segments not to be immediately suspicious.
Maxine had made her fame by making people look like either fools or heroes, and it seemed like it depended only on the woman's mood at the time which of the two options it ended up being. Sometimes Katrina agreed completely with her choices, like when the red headed reporter highlighted how ridiculous it was when mutants ran around the city slaughtering people. Those people deserved to be shown as fools. Other times she took perfectly innocent, well intentioned people and made them look silly on air. That, Katrina couldn't agree with.
So, when she was getting ready, and even before then, when she was considering what she wanted to look like, she was already calculating how she would try to react to her red headed interviewer. In her own mind, she could twist any outfit or any hairdo into something negative, so it would be child's play for Maxine to do the same if she wanted. Something too provocative and Katrina would likely be made out to be some kind of hussy. Too conservative and she'd be made out to look like a little girl. If she curled her hair, she'd be trying to hard. If she left it straight she'd be accused of rolling out of bed right before the interview.
In the end, she decided to dress however she wanted and not care at all what anyone else thought, except, maybe for Slate. She curled her hair because she thought it was pretty that way. She wore a cream colored dress the same color, though not nearly as fancy, as the one she had worn on Christmas during their year in Serbia, because she thought Slate would like it. She let her mom do her makeup, because her mom had good taste and Katrina didn't have much practice with stuff like eyeliner.
By the time they got to the studio, she finally felt like she was ready.
Maxine was wearing a red dress, which was a little flashier than what Katrina was used to seeing her in on the air. Red hair, red dress. Blonde hair, cream dress. The bright lights probably washed the color out of both her dress and hair so they looked lighter, too. She hadn't thought of that. It was almost like they were set up to be polar opposites of each other, like the red queen and the white queen from Through the Looking Glass. That was actually fine with Katrina. She was good at playing chess.
>>"Tell us, Katrina--may I call you Katrina?--tell us what got you into this vigilante philanthropism."
What kind of question was that supposed to be anyway? It was like Maxine wanted her to sound like a contestant in some beauty contest. But then, when she was about halfway between that and reality T.V., she supposed it was the better of the two options.
Katrina smiled, mirroring the brightness with which Maxine had regarded the camera. She could answer that.
“Each time it was because I saw a need. Whether it be a monster that needs slaying or a simple soup kitchen that needs funds, I try to help the people that need it most.”
Now she really sounded like she was trying to win some kind of pageant. She smiled like she was trying to win one, too, even though Slate was whispering in her ear about Maxine making him uncomfortable.
Why? What is she thinking? Then after a moment, she added, Keep me updated.
If they were going to play this game, they were going to play it her way.
Kaitlyn didn't even know her mom was dating Lenna? That... might make sense. They had both been awfully shifty about it, rendezvousing in secret at Mondragon Labs of all places. Maybe they didn't want anyone to know about it.
Katrina waved her hands in front of her, by way of apology.
“I didn't mean to spoil anything. You really didn't know?” At least the red headed girl looked happy about it. That was probably a good thing, that the daughter didn't horribly disapprove of her mother's life choices. It happened all the time, but families tended to work out better when it didn't.
“They had a secret date that I accidentally was there for, with fireflies in jars and everything.” Katrina was proud of the fireflies, especially. “But anyway.”
Alister shrugged, making his backpack bounce up and down, “Fireflies, next it will be wedding dresses. That's my cue to leave.”
Katrina raised an eyebrow at Kaitlyn. Boys: they weren't any fun at all.
Katrina couldn't figure out how the running woman fit into the puzzle. She should have been running away from the disaster, not towards it. Maybe she was also a rescuer? She seemed like maybe she understood what she was doing.
Her face, which had been red from running, turned even redder. Unnaturally red. Katrina's confusion showed on her illusionary double's face.
“We're trying to help,” Katrina explained to the shouting woman, “We're X-men, he's a healer,” she pointed at Slate. “We can't just abandon these people.”
“Oh yes you can,” the woman's voice hissed and her angry mouth split, wider and wider, and oh my those were sharp looking teeth. She didn't attack, though. Not yet.
Slate? Creepy red snake lady out here...
She tried to imagine what illusion!Slate would do.
“You're also a mutant?” Katrina was proud of how calm she made him sound. “Perhaps you could help us coordinate the rescue efforts.”
Slate was calm, which helped everyone else to be calm, too. They couldn't help it, calm was contagious, just like panic was.
Their team leader inquired about emergency provisions on the jet.
“There should be enough fresh water and food to get use through about three days.” The operative word being 'should'. “I'll check.” Katrina skittered into action, climbing back into the plane and sloshing wet footprints on the floor in order to check. It took only a moment to find the correct lever to open the emergency compartment. It was fully stocked, just as it was supposed to be.
“Three days worth,” she confirmed, “There's also a water filter, matches, a swiss army knife, a blanket, a compass, and a couple of flares. Oh, and a first aid kit. Not that we need that.” Luckily they had Slate. All the bandages in all the first aid kits in all the world were not as useful as Slate was.
She splashed her way back out of the jet, closing the door behind her to protect the few rations they had from scavengers, if there were any.
“How do we go about this? Should we split up or stay together?”
--
It turned out that there was not much on the island. It took only an hour or two to circumnavigate the entire thing; together, because no one really liked the idea of being alone on a tropical island, even if they were within mental shouting range.
They had a stream that bubbled up from somewhere and trickled into the ocean along the western side of the island. They had various trees with yellowish fruits hanging from them that looked like guavas. Katrina only recognized them because Hans was always making her try different kinds of fruits and vegetables when she was a kid. She also thought she saw mangos too, and of course, coconuts were everywhere. There were bird calls, now and then, but all the birds aside from seagulls seemed too shy to venture out of the thick jungle at the center of the island. The eastern side of the island was very rocky, and the waves hit hard.
Katrina was glad they hadn't landed on this side.
By the time the reached the jet again, the sun was setting in brilliant style, turning the smokey clouds from the volcano brilliant reds and purples.
Katrina didn't really appreciate it, though. Her feet were sore, she was getting hungry, and she really had to go to the bathroom and the nearest one of those was several dozen miles away.
She slipped her hand into Slate's and sniffled a very defeated sniffle.
