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.
Posted by Katrina on Sept 17, 2009 22:31:33 GMT -6
Mutant God
1,654
2
Nov 16, 2013 12:00:06 GMT -6
I will be larping this weekend (first time ever). Step combat-fantasy style and camping to go with it will have me away from the internet until Sunday evening.
Y'all behave while I'm gone or I will chase you down with my quarterstaff.
Posted by Katrina on Sept 15, 2009 12:30:48 GMT -6
Mutant God
1,654
2
Nov 16, 2013 12:00:06 GMT -6
Probably the reason Luna hadn't noticed Katrina was because she was invisible. She was sitting on the wall, watching people come and go both inside and outside. And she was hiding. She didn't feel like talking to anyone. At this time of year every conversation was the same. “What classes are you taking”, “Oh, I'm in your third period”, “See you there!”, then both parties promptly forgot the other person's schedule again. It was incredibly pointless.
She used to be so good at all the pointless small talk. She wasn't sure if it was because she used to care about the other person's answers or if it was because she had cared about what the other people thought of her. She didn't worry so much about making a good impression on people she hardly knew, these days. She had had a bad experience with a stranger who had not been at all as he was trying to appear. All the pleasantries and small talk, it was all a lie. Anyone could hide under the mask of polite conversation: demons, devils, torturers, murderers, monsters, anyone.
People entered the lives of others quite easily with their pleasantries and most of the time they slipped away again just as easily.
Katrina's interest was piqued by a green head of hair that came in through the mansion gates. It seemed that sometimes those that flowed out of your life sometimes flowed back in again. If she was not mistaken, that girl down below was Luna, a former mansion student who had gone to live elsewhere. There had been a bit of a panic when she had disappeared, but that was not uncommon. The mansion staff had an incredibly difficult time keeping track of their students as they flowed in and out. The building functioned almost more like a homeless shelter that offered a couple of classes on the side than it did like a school. It was nearly impossible to tell if the people in your classes would still be there by the end of the term. Another reason it was so pointless to compare schedules: someone might tell you they will sit next to you in art class then disappear without a trace the next day. The mansion staff would do their digging and figure out that the kid had moved back in with his mother in California, or whatever the story was.
Luna, though. Luna was her age. She deserved at least a hello. A lazy one, before she disappeared again. She closed her eyes and focused only on the image of Luna standing below.
Hello Luna, welcome back. Her voice whispered in Luna's ear so only she could hear it.
She opened her eyes again. She'd lost her invisibility to the world by focusing only on Luna for that little illusion. Damn. She'd have to see if she could iron out that little kink. Ah well, she was laying on top of the brick wall. They probably wouldn't see her anyway.
Posted by Katrina on Sept 11, 2009 15:03:30 GMT -6
Mutant God
1,654
2
Nov 16, 2013 12:00:06 GMT -6
When Katrina was little the Dumonde family had once gone to church every Sunday. Katrina had loved Sunday school for the stories they told, the art projects they did, and for the friends she made there. Afterwards that got out she used to sit between her parents during “Big People Church” and draw pictures on the church bulletins during the sermon. She had loved singing the hymns back then, even though she didn't know most of the words. When in doubt, all the words became “Jesus loves me, this I know” no matter what tune they were actually singing. As she had gotten older, their lives had gotten busier and busier and going to church happened less and less often until they had stopped going except on the most important holidays. There had been talk of getting her signed up for confirmation, but that plan fell apart when she was transferred up to Xavier's then spirited away to the Resistance.
It was exactly the same as she remembered, and completely different all at the same time. The friendly smiles that greeted them upon walking in were familiar, even if the faces of the people were not. The banners of light streaming through the stained glass windows were the same as ever, but the pictures on the windows told different stories than the one's Katrina was used to. The pews were just as hard as she remembered, but now her feet could actually reach the floor when she sat on them. The hymns were the same ones they had always sung, but now the words were projected on the wall with projectors instead of written in hymnals. The pastor gave the sermon in the usual way, quiet at times and fiery at others, but for once Katrina actually listened to what he was saying. “Patience and Forgiveness” was the topic of the day, and the bible verses that accompanied the speech were about the sufferings of Job and the necessity of forgiving someone no matter what. The young blonde was not sure what she thought about that message.
As the organist thundered through the recessional at the end, the minister made a beeline towards them. He knew his flock well and he recognize new comers when he saw them. He always made it a point to make sure they felt welcomed. As he steered Mrs. Dumonde towards the new member fliers and started talking about how exciting this year's confirmation class was going to be, Katrina slipped away from them and back into the sanctuary. She hadn't come to talk to a preacher, she'd come to talk to someone else.
In the third row, way off to one side, she found a seat on the pew and looked up at the stained glass window where Job was depicted with sores all over his body.
Dear God, praying felt a little weird after such a long time. And even then she'd only really ever said the Lord's Prayer at bedtime, so she wasn't sure if that even counted. You answered my prayer, but I still have questions...
Posted by Katrina on Sept 11, 2009 15:02:57 GMT -6
Mutant God
1,654
2
Nov 16, 2013 12:00:06 GMT -6
Katrina was reluctantly following the plan her mother had laid out for her recovery. It was like an elaborate family road trip and she didn't really want to travel it. Except, she had to because her mother was family. The steps had been small at first, just little things to do in bed to keep her distracted: a book of word puzzles, a new vampire romance novel that had just been released, the story of how her mother had elbowed her way though a thousand teenage girls wearing black capes and plastic vampire fangs at the midnight release to obtain said novel then wait in the Beans and Knobs checkout line for two hours listening to a raging debate on whether vampires or werewolves were hotter (she recounted this debate blow by blow and in the end Katrina and her mother had both decided it was the wolves), and a sketchbook with a set of colored pencils. Katrina couldn't help but be distracted by the shiny pencils, there were over a hundred of them in every color of Koga's skin (or maybe even more) all organized in a professional looking case.
The next steps had been to coax her out of her room. First she was required to come downstairs for at least one meal out of the day. Then, she was needed to help make a particularly elaborate supper. (Katrina, however, did not see the point of putting peppers, mushrooms, spinach, onions, freshly minced garlic, oregano, and tomatoes in a lasagna. There was hardly any room left for the noodles.) Then, after dinner one night she was invited by one of the students to watch an episode of Star Trek, “Time's Arrow”. Katrina suspected a set up, but it was one of her favorite episodes so she could hardly refuse no matter how annoying it was to explain to the girl who had invited her that, no, Spock would not be appearing in this episode (This was the most lively conversation she had had since the incident. She'd previously been as tight lipped as a clam, but when someone started asking if Data was a Vulcan she could hardly keep silent). Of course it was a two part episode, so she had to watch another episode the next night.
After that, Mrs. Dumonde decided that Katrina was ready to have conversations again, including one with the school counselor, Raina, whom the young illusionist found to be rather... odd for a counselor. Friends started invading her room, too, looking to talk about everything from the ending of the vampire book to what classes they had signed up for the next year. To her horror, Katrina found out that her mother had done her registration for her and signed her up for Self Defense. It was taught by Sam, who was nice, but it meant that he would see how weak and puny she was! Then there was math again. She could never escape it. World Geography and History reminded her that she hadn't been to a single study session with Slate yet. She felt a twinge of guilt at that, because she had ended the year a little behind in geography and was supposed to be studying to catch up.
Finally, her mother announced that it was time for her to leave the house. Claire promised to take her daughter anywhere she wanted to go, but it had to be outside of the mansion grounds. Of course, the blonde teen wanted nothing to do with going anywhere so she sulked in her room and refused to even watch any Star Trek that night. By the next morning, though, she had decided the one place she wanted to go on her first outing.
Her mother had been surprised at her choice, but faithfully promised to take her daughter the very next Sunday. After not having been there in a couple of years, they were going to church.
Fausto and Kenzie were such a pair. They seemed to feed off each others' silliness to create even more silliness. Katrina was laughing so hard at their antics that it was hard to breathe. And that was before they started pretending to be a bull fighter and a bull.
Katrina was pretty sure dogs were colorblind, but the red afghan that Fausto turned into his bull fighting cloak did the trick of attracting Kenzie's attention. Even though she hadn't figured out how to get the shirt off her face, she could see the blanket wiggling and went charging after it, too. It was moving, therefor it was prey. Iron Mouth was an expert bull fighter, though, and he kept the blanket from the Retriever's snipping teeth.
Katrina gasped between laughs and clapped for them both. Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes, but they were happy tears from all the laughter. She was glad that Fausto was home again and glad that he could be a kid again, too.
“Don't... worry,” she managed to wheeze out between laughs. “I'm not... jealous.”
Mrs. Dumonde sat on the edge of her daughter's bed, watching her sleep. There was barely room for her there with the pile of mutts that had decided to also keep the young girl company. Ever since Katrina had been a baby, she had loved to watch her sleep. Usually it gave her such a sense of peacefulness, but tonight Claire could only worry.
Katrina had disappeared yesterday from the mansion without a trace, then had suddenly reappeared back in her bed hours later with her hair nearly all cut off and unable or unwilling to talk about what had happened, plagued by nightmares even in the daytime. She had spent the whole day in bed, barely moving, hardly speaking at all, and eating only because food was put right under her nose.
Katrina's mother assumed the worst; that some sick freak had taken her, had his way with her, then dumped her again like a used burger wrapper from McGrease King. She felt terrible. She had failed to protect her child, no matter how hard she had tried. Now all she could do was help pick up the pieces and hold them in place while Katrina glued them back together. She wasn't even sure what she would say if Katrina did tell her exactly what happened. Motherhood didn't come with an instruction book; there was no place she could look up the problem and the solution. Counseling might help, or possibly self defense lessons that could protect her in the future. Maybe if she had made Katrina sign up for self defense lessons ages ago and maybe this could have been prevented. How was she to have known?
Claire rubbed her temples. She had a headache again. Every time she used her ability to split into two bodies, it gave her terrible migraines. Probably because she still had to keep track of both of her halves at the same time by flitting rapidly back and forth. It had been necessary, though, to cover as much ground as possible as she searched for her missing child. There was no question; it was worth a little headache to have Katrina back again.
As she rubbed her baby's back she was reminded of a line from a children's book. “I'll love you forever. I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, your mommy I'll be,” she whispered.
Dogs have an uncanny ability to know when something is wrong. Katrina woke to find a very full bed. Kenzie lifted her head from the pillow next to her and licked her right on the face. Thor wagged his tail upon seeing her lift her head. Bruce yawned even louder than she had done as she stretched. One. Two. Three?
There was a note folded up on the dresser with her name scribbled on it. Inside was a note from Shin reminding her that she was taking care of Thor for a few days. More like Thor would be taking care of her. She didn't even feel like leaving her bed.
She flopped back against her pillows with a sigh and the dogs wriggled, each trying to get as close to her as possible. Kenzie won her right side, having already had a head start, Bruce won her left, and Thor settled for sitting right on top of her, though it was less comfortable a perch than the other two got.
Even in the daylight, protected by her furry guards, the foreboding of the dream clung to her. Even after all that had happened, Calley was still missing. The dogs understood that loneliness of having someone disappear without telling them. Even if it was only for a few hours, it felt like a lifetime when someone you cared for was gone. Katrina petted their heads, scratching each ear in turn. She showed them a picture:
Calley messing up her hair with a big goofy smile on his face, then walking out the door and across the lawn while she watched out the window.
They wagged their tails in sympathy. Thor whined. They didn't understand words, but they understood this. Katrina didn't have words for it anyway and once she started, she might as well tell them the whole thing.
Walking in the park, smelling the leaves, looking for a cat. The cat had spots, they saw it flick through the bushes, but then it was gone again. A man came with a friendly smile and took the leash, but before they walked far his smile turned to a growl and he hit them. They could still feel the pain in the back of their heads. He took them somewhere dark, that smelled of garbage. The man smelled too, of sweating on a hot summer day from wearing a long sleeved jacket. His hands smelled like metal, like a child after hanging onto the chain of the swing on the playground. The hands brought more hurt.
Kenzie nuzzled her hand, begging to be petted more. It was a comfort to both of them. Bruce growled at the door, then snorted and shook his head which wiggled his whole body and the whole bed. Thor stretched and crawled forward up her lap until he was close enough to lick the salty tears off her chin.
They understood and they would protect her.
The door opened and Bruce immediately jumped off the bed to inspect whomever was coming in. He sniffed at Mrs. Dumonde's hands and decided that she was acceptable and let her enter. Thor stole Bruce's spot on the bed.
Claire chuckled when she saw her daughter's bed completely full of dogs. “It looks like you have plenty of company, but would you like me to sleep in here tonight as well? There is an air mattress...”
Dreams that daylight weaves shine true and bright Brighter than the haunting dreams of night But still sewn from threads both the dark and light
Hand in hand in hand, a grown up Slate, a grown up Katrina, and a forever seventeen Calley walked through the valley. Slate held a checkerboard blanket precisely folded and tucked under his free arm. Calley held a basket that overflowed with tuna sandwiches (one third of which were cut into perfect squares), frosted cookies (one third of which were heaped with enough frosting to horrify any dentist), and three bottles of milk (one each of chocolate, strawberry, and regular skim).
There was a tree in the valley that was perfect for picnics. It was a maple tree that stretched its limbs wide enough to provide plenty of shade, held its boughs high enough for sitting under and low enough for climbing afterwards, and had already started changing colors for the fall. The outer most leaves of red beckoned the hungry travelers hither. The golden yellow ones behind them welcomed them cheerfully to sit down. The innermost green leaves assured them that they needn't hurry. There was still plenty of time left.
Nevertheless, lunch disappeared quickly and the trio soon found themselves exhausted by the tree climbing. They took their seats around the base of the tree to rest and soon fell asleep hand in hand in hand. Calley was the last to fall asleep, and though his body was the youngest of all his eyes were the oldest. They knew something they weren't telling to the the other two.
Daylight streamed through the window, spilling in large yellow puddles across the bed of a blonde teenaged girl. In her dream someone was shining a bright light on her face. She didn't understand what they were doing, but she didn't like it. A cool hand touched her forehead, but when she opened her eyes it was just her mother.
“Mom,” she croaked, her throat raspy.
Claire swept her arms around her daughter's shoulders and pulled her up into a sitting hug, “I was so worried about you. You didn't tell me that you left.” Her mother hadn't meant to make that sound like an accusation, but it did anyway.
“I looked everywhere,” the elder Dumonde continued. “I was positively sick.” She meant sick with worry. Katrina understood her shortened version. She couldn't speak, could only hug her mother tightly.
Mrs. Dumonde massaged her temples with one hand, still holding her other arm around her daughter's shoulders. She didn't ever want to let her go again, “What happened? Why is you hair...?”
Katrina just shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes and spilling over and leaving blotches on her mothers' silky shirt.
Claire understood, and simply held her daughter close while she cried. They stayed that way a long time.
Water trickle and flowed, rippling over and around uneven stones that jutted up from seemingly every angle. The path followed the river and she followed the path, though her way was much smoother than the water's. Up ahead was a bridge, an old stone thing that arched over both the river and the path. She hesitated before going in, but it looked safe enough.
A step inside and she was in the sewers. The smell of rot and evil swirled around her and she gasped. Before her the underground tunnel stretched on into infinity and behind her, the same. The light by which she had walked was gone. She could hear the cackle of the water, of the stench, of the darkness. She could feel her three enemies circling around her, but all she could see was their slitted green eyes glowing.
She ran. Even though her feet were hampered by the water, the stench pulled at her hair, and the darkness snagged her clothing she ran. Forever and ever and getting nowhere,while her pursuers were tireless. Finally, she turned herself invisible so her enemies couldn't see her anymore and she was able to escape up a ladder that lead to the surface.
She emerged from the darkness into the blinding sunlight. A big crowd of people stood on the mansion lawn, mingling and talking. There was Sam giving her mother a tissue. And there was Abyss, or maybe it was Saturn because he was frowning, leaning against a tree. In the branches a white cat with black spots flicked his tail back and forth. Fausto was playing a sad song on his guitar while Isabel and Koga politely listened. Kaz squeezed Ghost's hand to comfort her.
“It's okay!” She called to them, “I'm alright!”
They didn't hear her.
Frowning, she walked over and waved her hand in front of Slate's face, but he kept staring at the sky with a confused expression on his face, as if he couldn't quite tell what he was feeling. He didn't pay any attention to her.
Slate, that's not funny.
He wasn't laughing either.
She walked through the crowd but she was invisible wherever she went. She thought she saw Syn look right at her from her spot in the crowd, but a moment later the woman with red and black streaks in her hair had disappeared again as if she had only been imagined in the first place.
All the way around the crowd and not a single person could see her. No matter how hard she tried to turn visible she seemed stuck. Feeling panicked, she walked to the front steps to the mansion to sit down and figure out what she should do. Instead of sitting, she found herself staring at a long wooden box she found there: an empty casket with her name on it.
It was inevitable that she would be alone again at some point, no matter how much she dreaded it.
The darkness pressed around her, but even more stifling was the loneliness. And the fear. Invisibility couldn't hide her when she wanted to hide from No One.
Every noise sounded like a silver claw finger scraping at the window. Every small speck of light was the malicious glint of an emerald eye.
She took what refuge she could under the covers. It was the middle of summer and very hot, but the more blankets she was under, the more layers of protection she had against intruders, darkness, and Nothing. It was impossible to sleep, so she wrote haiku poems in her head. She tried to think of pleasant, lyrical things, but they all seemed to turn out broody at the ends.
A quiet night sighs. On a bare twig a bird sits singing 'all alone'.
A quiet city, for once it sleeps. Down below ...
She didn't even want to finish that one. It ended with sewers and rats and green eyes and pain and fear and nightmares.
An hour later, when the door opened a crack Katrina was asleep. She didn't notice the figure creep into her room to peel back her protective coverings to look at her face. Nor did she hear the mother's sigh of relief upon seeing her daughter safe in bed.
Hooray, she was forgiven! If only it was so easy for everyone to forgive. She clung to his neck with her head against his shoulder even as he whispered that she, too, was an angel.
She whispered back in kind, “If we are both angels, then there is no need to stay on the Earth. We can both fly as high as we want.”
She couldn't hear him blushing. Her ears were sharp and she was very close, but the sound of a blush is very quiet indeed. Heartbeats were more easily audible, and she could heart both of their hearts, still beating quickly from the excitement of their epic pillow battle.
They were both quiet for a moment, thinking and listening. While Fausto relished the moment of happiness, Katrina's mind was on angels. She wondered if angels were real and if so whether they were related to humans like mutants were, or were they more like ghosts so that either mutants or humans could become one after they died.
The dog had decided that was enough quiet time. She was a very young dog with a very short attention span. Her size might fool some into believing that she was full grown, but on the inside she was still very much a half trained puppy who only wanted to play. She had grabbed Fausto's shirt and interrupted Katrina's thoughts of angels with her devilish act. Fausto played right along and Kenzie tugged and ended up wriggling the shirt right off of Fausto's body.
No one was more surprised than the dog at what she had accomplished (except for maybe her owner whose laughter had become uncontrollable). Kenzie dropped the shirt in her surprise and Fausto deftly stuck it on her face, blocking her eyes. The Golden Retriever went wild trying to paw it off and ended up bumping into anything and everything that got in the way, including Katrina who was rolling on the floor in stitches* and Fausto who was now lacking a shirt.
This is what childhood is all about.
*In stitches = a phrase meaning you're laughing so hard you're side hurts- that pain is a stitch in the side