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.
Kiva just looked amused at Paige's reaction, particularly with the rapid shift in topic. She didn't fight it, just chuckling softly to herself. She'd more-or-less realized what Paige had meant, and had certainly known she was kidding, but the dragon-like mutant had had...something of an ulterior motive, linked to her choice of song.
If you're going through hell, keep on going....
She tilted her head a little at Paige's description of her mutation. "That's cool. I really haven't met any shapeshifters before." she said. Well, she hadn't met them knowingly, at least; as Paige had just pointed out, it made for a good way to hide.
"My mutation's basically just what you see is what you get. Big and scaly." She nearly said 'big and ugly' instead, but she really didn't want to sound like she was fishing for pity. She chuckled as she added, "Well, the 'scaly' part's my mutation, anyway. The height's because of my Irish blood, and I earned the muscles." There was a hint of pride, just a hint, as she mentioned her musculature.
Kiva shrugged off her coat and draped it over her arm, letting her small wings unfurl and stretch. She loved jackets, but she needed to let her wings move every once and while. Struck by a little, curious thought, she looked at Paige after the motion and voiced it. "Can you do things with...mechanical parts, and have those work? Like simple wind-up toys or something?"
Kiva nodded a little, subconsciously, when Sylar described tattoos as drawing on skin. "Basically." If one wanted to get technical, the ink was injected under a layer of skin, but the end product was visible colour on the body part. The reminder that she was talking about artwork to a blind person made this mildly awkward, since he only had an abstract idea of what art even was.
His mention of his father, and his forgetting his father's profession, made her frown. He said he'd only been like this three years, right? Then again, three years could be a very long time depending on how you spent it, and Sylar had been spending it like an animal. She watched his claw-sharpening motions thoughtfully, letting her eyes flick to her own, smaller claws as she spoke, "A lot of jobs aren't too fun, no. I used to work in a store before I came to America, and that was...not fun."
Teenage visible mutant plus the average retail customer? It was a miracle she'd never outright roared in some idiot's face, particularly during the holidays. "I like my job at the parlor, though," she added, her smile pushing the frown aside. "Mostly because I love art. I...like to think I'm pretty good at it; I have to be careful when I grip things and move a little slower, but it works."
Kiva had had years of practice, though, if not always with needles. "I paint paintings sometimes, too. Not for money, though." she commented. "Sometimes of other mutants."
Posted by Kiva Augillard on Mar 24, 2013 16:37:21 GMT -6
Epsilon Mutant
92
2
Feb 27, 2015 12:39:25 GMT -6
The inevitable question. If she didn't rely on other mutants, take the charity offered to her, how did she possibly survive? Kiva had heard it more than once in the years she'd lived here, and often it offended her, mostly because it was often uttered by the normal or normal-looking, with the implication that she was somehow lesser.
She remembered when she met Paige and she'd asked what it was like to be visible, saying she instead admired those that were and lived with it. Kiva hadn't been able to be mad at her for that, and for once had honestly answered the question. And now, looking at someone who had a very good reason to ask, she couldn't help but offer a little, tired smile. "It is hard, I won't lie. Hard to find a job, hard to find a place to live..."
She studied her claws. She tended to do that a lot, because they always seemed the biggest indicator of her difficulty with attempting to live a life as normal as she could manage. The scales and wings were bigger, flashier, but the claws could damage things and hurt people. "I work in a tattoo parlor. I wasn't the first mutant the guy who runs it met, so he wasn't afraid. He was willing to give me a chance, so I took it."
In other words, pure dumb luck. Story of her life, really. Her skill with the needles was something she'd earned, though, especially with her claws and the problems they presented. "Some people walk right back out the door again when they see me," she admitted. "But not everyone. And, well, like I said, New York has a high mutant population, so my being there makes other mutants feel welcome." Kiva was sure Sylar understood that well enough.
There were possibly other implications behind that question, however, and she shifted her wings idly as she added, "Generally, it's easier to get night-shift work and other jobs that don't involve working with a lot of non-mutants, though." She wasn't as strongly intertwined with the mutant community at large as some, but she did chat with people when she was tattooing them, and she picked up things like that.
Though, maybe she should get out there among other mutants more often...
Posted by Kiva Augillard on Mar 20, 2013 19:53:06 GMT -6
Epsilon Mutant
92
2
Feb 27, 2015 12:39:25 GMT -6
Kiva thought for a moment when Paige mentioned playing for tips. "I've seen buskers do pretty well before," she commented, faintly. Her reply to her comment on singing, however, caused the blonde's giggle to be joined by a deep laugh. "Well, it'd take some improvising to make me sound any good..."
Kiva trailed off and her expression turned thoughtful. The stud in her pierced tongue clicked against her teeth a couple of times as she considered the thought rolling around in her skull. Finally, with the thought of 'why not?' she cleared her throat a little and launched into a...demonstration of sorts.
"If you're going through hell, Keep on going. Don't slow down, If you're scared don't show it. You might get out, 'Fore the Devil even knows you're there.
Yeah, if you're going through hell, Keep on moving. Face that fire, Walk right through it. You might get out, 'Fore the Devil even knows you're there..."
Kiva's singing voice was a deep baritone, and she indeed sounded both masculine and fairly country, along with being...off. A clearly-untrained, lacking-in-range-of-tone kind of off, for the most part, mostly because she was making an active attempt not to show Paige the worst of it. She chuckled faintly after singing those lines. "I am such a prairie girl..." she mumbled, only half-intending for her new friend to actually hear it.
Posted by Kiva Augillard on Mar 20, 2013 16:53:15 GMT -6
Epsilon Mutant
92
2
Feb 27, 2015 12:39:25 GMT -6
2011
Sorcha was a half-hour late.
Kiva frowned. Sorcha was not late for their games. It just didn't happen. Her baby sister was always punctual, practically to a fault. The value of such had been one of the things their parents had always tried their best to drill into their minds, and Sorcha had always taken it to heart. No amount of teenage rebellion would make her not be on time, especially for something fun.
Sorcha did still find these games fun, right? Of course; her little sister lived for chess. She was queen of her school's chess club, and she even had one of those fancy three-dimensional boards.
So what was wrong? The empty chat window on her computer stared back at her as she drummed her claws uneasily; Kiva was very close to grabbing the phone and calling home, just to make sure her sister was alright. After all, if she really couldn't play due to something, it wasn't like her not to at least let her know.
A 'plink' of a message showing up nearly made the scaled mutant woman jump in surprise.
Sorry. Internet's been off all day. Finally got it back on. Game still on?
Kiva sighed in relief, sinking in her computer chair. She started chuckling to herself and she gave a swift shake of her. head. Right. Of course. Just Internet troubles. Way to let the paranoia get to her.
No worries. Sure, I'll set it up.
As the virtual board popped into existence on her screen and she sent the invitation, Kiva smiled. She stretched her wings, then folded them as sher gently grasped the mouse in her clawed hand and went to move one of her pawns. And so the weekly war began again.
Posted by Kiva Augillard on Mar 19, 2013 11:39:10 GMT -6
Epsilon Mutant
92
2
Feb 27, 2015 12:39:25 GMT -6
I'm officially a masochist...
That being the first thought running through your mind when you're going out to have a good time was a poor sign. Still, here she was. Kiva walked into the small bar, and she was aware of the wave of silence that washed over the humans within. A number were blatantly staring at the tall, muscular figure glittering bronze as she walked from the door to the bartender; a pool game screeched to a halt and one of the men nearly dropped their cue.
Kiva snorted. These people lived in New-freaking-York. The home of a mutant school. Even if they'd never knowingly seen a mutant before, they shouldn't be so surprised. She'd even been in this particular bar before, albeit not in...what, three or four months?
Bars weren't her usual scene, and she really wasn't one to drink these days, anyway. Suddenly going from being able to legally drink to not being able to legally drink for a couple of years after she'd moved to the States had broken what beginnings of a habit may have formed, and once she had turned twenty-one, drinking just seemed like old news. She'd already had her big 'I can drink now' party at eighteen back home, so she'd opted out of it for twenty-one and simply not looked back.
Still, sometimes, she picked up a six-pack of beer at the store and then drank it over the course of a month. Or she came here. She flopped down on the bar stool and looked at bartender, who seemed calm enough, though silent. She didn't recognize him. The visible mutant let out a faint, annoyed sigh and slid off her leather jacket. Her small wings opened and stretched, and she willfully ignored what sounded like muttering going on behind her.
"Green-Eyed Monster," she said bluntly, and the look she paired it with discouraged any smart remarks. Her own eyes were brown, anyway, so it wouldn't have been all that clever in the first place. Drink ordered, she leaned slightly on the bar and tapped a black claw on it as she let her gaze lazily run over her surroundings. A few people were polite enough to look away when she made eye-contact. A few weren't.
Kiva squeezed her eyes shut and quietly laid her head down on her desk. Well, this was going nowhere fast. Turns out schoolwork sucked even when you were going to art school. Go figure. It didn't help that she was pretty sure the instructor didn't like her. Like that was a shock; she'd expected to get slapped in the face with prejudice around here, and she'd still gone.
Sometimes she seriously wondered if she was masochistic. It would explain a lot of the decisions she made.
There was a faint 'plink' sound from her computer, and she reached over to wiggle her mouse to get the monitor to light up again. She looked at the screen, and the little message that had popped up on it from a familiar username.
Game time?
Kiva sighed softly, looking from her schoolwork to her computer, then started typing. The ends of her recently-filed claws clicked the keys as she sent the short reply.
Can't. Art project.
She barely got the chance to look away before there was another 'plink.'
You promised.
Kiva sighed. Thirteen years old and still playing the 'you promised' card with her older sister. Though, really, what was she actually doing? Attempting to bludgeon artist block into submission and failing miserably, that's what. Maybe she did need a break.
Okay, fine. I'll start it up and invite you.
She smiled as the virtual chessboard came into view. At least she couldn't accidentally wreck these, though her keyboard and mouse weren't exactly in the best of condition, so maybe she was just trading damaging one thing for another. She found her tense muscles relaxing as Sorcha entered the same and made her first move, and she silently challenged herself to last just one move more than she had the last time before the inevitable fall of her army.
Posted by Kiva Augillard on Mar 17, 2013 18:42:57 GMT -6
Epsilon Mutant
92
2
Feb 27, 2015 12:39:25 GMT -6
2009
"Checkmate."
The bronze-scaled beast of a mutant chuckled a little and leaned back in her chair, looking from her cornered black king to the petite redhead sitting across from her.
Beaten in chess by a twelve-year-old. That would be embarassing if that twelve year old weren't her baby sister. Sorcha always won at chess, had since she was seven, but Kiva kept right on playing, week after week. Their wooden peices had paint scratched off in numerous places from the mutant's claws, even though she tried her hardest to be careful while handling them.
She casually plucked the peice from the board that meant so much to the game. "And so the king lay dead, not having died an honourable death at the head of troops, but having cowered in his castle until the enemy soldiers found him and cut him down. They rode through the streets, displaying his head for all who could see. The black-hearted man who had made a pact with a terrible dragon finally paid for his crimes in blood."
Sorcha giggled a little, but then rolled her bright green eyes. "You always have to narrate," she said as she got up to gather the board and peices. "And you're not terrible."
Kiva pretended to look offended. "Am so. Very terrible." She raised the clawed hand not holding her king chess peice and gave a small growl.
Sorcha laughed. "Whatever you say, big sis." The laughter faded, however, and soon the child frowned, toying slightly with the white knight she was holding. "This...is our last game, huh? You're heading off to New York with Auntie Finola..."
Kiva frowned as well, and she reached out to gently touch her sister's shoulder. "Hey, no way." Sorcha looked up, and the dragon-like woman gave her preteen sister a big smile. "We'll set up some kinda online thing so you can burn my castle to the ground over the internet. I'm not giving up our chess games that easily."
Sorcha smiled back, but it faded when she looked at the peice she was holding again. "Don't know what I'm gonna do with the old board..."
Kiva chuckled. "We can store it and break it out whenever I come home for Christmas. How's that sound?"
"I guess..." Sorcha said quietly, but she still didn't look happy.
Kiva sighed and pulled her baby sister into a tight hug. "I'll miss you too," she said. Sorcha didn't say anything in return, but she hugged back.
Posted by Kiva Augillard on Mar 15, 2013 14:42:06 GMT -6
Epsilon Mutant
92
2
Feb 27, 2015 12:39:25 GMT -6
Kiva meeting Alma could be fun, if you're up for it. The bodachs like sparkly things, and Kiva's a walking sparkly thing with those shiny bronze scales of hers, which could certainly lead to amusement. She'd probably find them kinda cute, too, particularly the little ones.
Posted by Kiva Augillard on Mar 14, 2013 21:04:28 GMT -6
Epsilon Mutant
92
2
Feb 27, 2015 12:39:25 GMT -6
Kiva grinned a little when Paige said she'd take the painting. "Great. I'd hate to have to just put it in storage or something." Knowing that her newest painting would have a home when it was finished seemed to immediately heighten her mood by a few degrees, and she looked pretty cheerful as she moved to continue their walk.
"Guitar, huh?" she added, as that part sunk in. "Be cool to hear you play sometime, if you'd be up for it." She held back the urge to laugh, though a little snicker did escape her, as the next thought struck her. "Though, before you answer that...I may make an attempt to sing if you do...and I kinda end up sounding like a male country singer or something. Just fair warning."
'Or something' was probably the better description. While her deep voice was not grating to the ears when spoken, she really didn't have much in the way of capability of singing.
Posted by Kiva Augillard on Mar 14, 2013 20:26:04 GMT -6
Epsilon Mutant
92
2
Feb 27, 2015 12:39:25 GMT -6
Kiva watched Sylar's tail rest on the ground, and she smiled. He may not have been reacting in a way that quite made sense to her more human-like mind, but that at least confirmed that she was having some kind of positive effect. It really was a cool-looking tail, too. His form, in general, appealed to her artistic side in its deadliness, but she tried her best to keep it to the back of her mind, since she sincerely doubted the kid would agree to posing for a sketch even if she'd had her art supplies with her.
She frowned at little at Sylar's use of the word 'yet,' but didn't comment on it, instead reacting to the rest of what he'd said. "A lot of animals group together, yeah. Even the ones who don't hunt together do tend to like company." She gave a little smile again as she added, "Like cats." It was a human instinct, too, but she wasn't sure how he'd respond to her pointing that out.
"I can see how it would seem too good to be true, though," she commented with a faint sigh. "Not a lot of areas have a high enough mutant population for a place like it to exist." She'd had options other than being shipped to the States if she had needed to be pulled out of public school those years ago back home, but such places were still few and far in between. Even some areas that might have the population might not have a tolerant enough atmosphere.
Kiva hadn't expected anyone to answer the roar--it really was just an intimidation tactic--and so when she stopped to inhale and another mutant suddenly leaped down from nowhere, long tendrils allowing her to land not far from the scaled mutant, she couldn't help but look surprised, before flashing the purple woman a quiet, grateful smile. Her eyes then locked back on the remaining four men; it seemed that either the sound or the sudden assistance had made them hesitate, since none of them had tried to come at her with a knife themselves yet.
Oh, wait. Three men. The sudden appearance of a downright amazonian woman and the sight of one more thug dropping like a stone made the rest of the humans whirl around in shock. Kiva suddenly was very, very glad that this newcomer also seemed to be on her side, particularly with that bristled tail and toothy grin. Holy crap. They couldn't be stupid enough to pick a fight with--
One of the men drew a knife; Kiva's eyes snapped to the metallic shine near-instantly. "You freaks are the problem." The others were backing up, but they were also going for blades. Maybe they thought such a thing would actually work on a mutant with normal-looking skin, or they simply considered themselves cornered.
Either way, the fight was officially on again.
Unfortunately for them, backing away from the woman with the tail meant getting closer to the other two, and Kiva didn't hesitate to lunge for one them and latch onto his forearm with her hand before painfully yanking it backward. The knife clattered to the sidewalk as her claws sank in, drawing blood. "You are a new brand of idiots," she hissed, voice raspy from the abuse she'd put her throat through by roaring.
She hadn't noticed, quite yet, that the other previously-backing-up thug had turned his attention on her, though she would in a moment since he was about to try to stab her in the arm as she held his buddy in a bleeding vice grip.
"It's my favourite colour." Sylar's wondering aloud triggered the near-automatic, but genuine, reply. It really was. She never wore it, since it clashed with her scales, but looking at some of the artwork she made could see the influence it and other warm colours had on her. She liked that comparison, too, to roses; she could see why someone would make it.
Talk of forgetting what is was like earned a quiet sigh. That hit close to home for her; Kiva sometimes stared into the mirror and tried to think about what she'd look like, who she'd be, if that one little gene hadn't rewritten her to its whims. It got harder and harder every time. The mention of his mother's reaction, however, made her force down the urge to growl and suddenly want to find this woman and start breaking bones. While always having been aware, on some level, that mutant children were often abandoned, to treat your own flesh and blood like that was so heavily against all of her instincts that she couldn't help the anger.
The question cooled her temper, for the moment, and made her blink in surprise. "The Mansion? I've heard of it, but I've never gone there. They're known mostly for taking in mutant children, and just protecting mutants in general and trying to promote tolerance." Kiva had a certain amount of respect for the place, and it showed in her tone, particularly when she added, "They do seem to have their heads on straight there. If I ever got into trouble, that's probably where I'd end up going."
Well, that's where she'd end up going if the trouble was a little above 'muscle through it on my own' and a little below 'run for the Canadian border at top speed,' at any rate. It was a fairly narrow window, but it existed.
Kiva's face heated up, and she glanced away when Paige complimented her artistic talent. "Well, now you've gone and made me blush," she mumbled, though there was no visible colour on her cheeks due to her thick scales. Of course, she got compliments aplenty on her artwork, but she'd never quite gotten used to it. "But...thanks. I'm glad you like it."
She chuckled, flipping the sketchbook closed. "I've been doing this since I was about...thirteen or fourteen. Not long after..." She gestured a little at herself. "Y'know, this whole thing..." There was no negative emotion in her voice when she acknowledged her mutated appearance, though her tone wasn't exactly light, either. "Ink and needles are the only thing I make money doing, though. Kinda prefer it that way."
And that brought her train of thought running in a particular direction, and she considered the important question a moment before she voiced it. "Hey, when I'm actually done the painting of the forest sprites...you think you'd be interested in having it? I mean, if you don't like it when it's done, that's cool, but I've already got a bunch that are my favourites that I have up around my apartment so..."
Loss of thought and emotion. The idea made Kiva feel chill, but she dared not let it show with a shiver. No, she wasn't like that. She was still a human on the inside. Her changes were a shell, an external defense mechanism. A prison. Her mutation had never reached her mind...
...Had it? She snarled. She growled. She was protective and possessive. Territorial.
That lonely voice when he mentioned a little girl was the final blow to shatter her heart, and she shoved her hands into her jean pockets, shutting her eyes for a moment. A little girl. She could more than believe that a little girl would be the person to accept him. Sorcha had just been a little girl when she'd changed. A little, five year old girl whose big sister had left for school in the morning normal, and come back a dragon. And all she'd done was ask if Kiva knew how to roar like the dragons in her storybook.
When he pulled back his hood and she saw that scraggly, red hair, her mouth twitched into a little, sad smile. She met his eyes, looking at those black veins running through them. Those definitely weren't human eyes, but they didn't bother her. "Heh...didn't know you were a redhead..." she commented, faintly. It was a silly thing to say, particularly to someone blind, but she couldn't help it. It just brought back more thoughts of her family, and strengthened that maternal feeling.
Kiva's own hair was jet black, contrasting sharply with her bronze, scaly skin, and she tucked a strand behind her ear as she shifted a little further into the alley again, into the dark. She slid down the wall she'd been leaning against and sat on the concrete ground; it was a strong show of trust, doing that, but she didn't consciously think about it. She sighed a little, looking away from Sylar and then back again. "To answer your question...I'm different, mentally, than I used to be, but it's been so many years, it's hard to tell how much of this is due to the nature of my mutation and how much isn't."
Her eyes flicked to her hands, and flexed the clawed digits, then met the other mutant's bizarre eyes again. "The thing is, we're more than just our natures. I was lucky, in a lot of ways. I couldn't even stand on my own after my change, from the pain...and someone was brave enough to help me to my feet."
She stretched her wings again, slightly. "The longer I've lived with this, the more people I've met who were willing to...try. Willing to understand. They're in a sea of judgemental idiots, but they're there."
