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.
"Ha-Urp!" He pointedly dragged her in and slammed the door.
---
A short while later she stumbled back out, tucking her shirt back in unashamedly. Hadn't really been expecting that one. "Good, because I had to bribe someone into making the code for me!" And she certainly didn't want it to go to waste.
When he was done picking up the coins, she reached out to try and snag one. It wasn't like she was going to eat it, still couldn't, in fact... but she might ransom it back to him toward the end of the date if she needed to. Then, regardless of the outcome, she turned and started to head for the danger room.
She was walking back to her room, arms stuffed with freshly cleaned clothing, when her phone rang again. Cursing, she struggled the pile into a one-armed death grip and reached back to grab her phone from her pocket.
"Hello?" She nestled the device between shoulder and ear, regaining her grip on the laundry before she could lose any in the hallway. It was hard enough keeping her socks together without losing them in the hallway on top of the magical bulls%^$ that happened in the dryer.
She reached her door and shouldered her way in, depositing the fresh pile of clothes on her bed. She set about folding them as she listened.
She hummed in response and said her farewell, then hung up and squinted at the phone. Not exactly the strangest call she'd ever received. but decently high up there on the list.
But, more importantly... had she just said 'she'?
The squint turned into a stare that lasted much too long, before she finally forced herself to turn and set her phone down. Surely the woman had just assumed her friend was a she. There was no feasible way for her to have known anything about the murder, or her roommate.
Still, she couldn't help the shudder that raced through her, leaving her hair standing on end. She turned back to her easel, getting set to switch out canvases.
Blinking, she eyed the poof and side-eyed her comb. Was she fully prepared to tackle frizz? Her hair was naturally limp, hardly any wave. She generally just let it air dry into whatever shape it wanted and called it good.
But, the dye needed dry hair... so she rolled her mental sleeves and got to work carefully drying and combing the sections of hair she would need.
"I have a little one on my wrist, too!" She edged her glove out of the way so she could show it off. A four leaf clover with a faded 13 in the middle. "My lucky number." She chuckled and got back to work, "I swear it felt like they were sawing my hand off when I got it done. The wrist is too sensitive, you know?"
Once the hair was dry she sectioned it off divided by the number of colors they had, tying each with a small hair band. "I have quite a few piercings in my ears... but i'm not brave enough to get them anywhere else. I've got a thing for needles." It was a wonder that she'd been able to get the first ones done at all... it helped that she couldn't see the sides of her head.
"Here we go!" She grabbed the first color, laid down a small section of foil and got to work adding the color in with her fingers. She'd found that it was much easier to make sure that the hair was evenly saturated if you could feel it.
She sat patiently, keeping an eye on the time and taking a break or two to check on her hair, while Zinnia went to work. By the time her roots were saturated, Zinnia's hair had started to lighten to the point that Shelby felt they could work with it.
"Nope, never been brave enough to match the eyebrows to the hair." She took the squirt bottle and brush and moved it back to the window, then clipped the rest of her hair back and out of the way. "The whole 'if you screw up you lose your eyebrows' thing was a real problem for me. Heh."
Turning back, she slipped on a fresh pair of gloves and peeled the foil back so she could take a final look at it. The end result was ever so slightly yellow blonde locks. Smiling, Shelby started to remove the foils and clipped all of the bleached bits all together. "Looks like its pretty much as good as we need it. You can go rinse all of the bleach out now, then i'll dry your hair and we can add the rainbow in!"
She wandered back over to the bed and fished her own boxed dye out, popping it open to look at bottle. She generally liked to use bowls and her fingers instead, since it was much less messy in her opinion, but she was also feeling exceedingly lazy today. She fished the ingredients out and mixed them all together, then screwed the un-snipped lid back on. (mistake numero uno)
When Zinnia came back out from the shower she hopped in to rinse off her own head, and grabbed the blow drier on the way back out. "Have you ever thought about getting any piercings or tattoos?" Shelby had her own metal, mostly gathered in her ears. The visible bars that spanned her cartilage were the most obvious part, with the small tunnels in her lobes a close second. She hadn't even thought to get any on the rest of her body, or 'personal canvas' as she liked to call it.
Grinning at herself in he mirror, she tucked a few loose strands of hair out of her face and silently appraised her appearance. She'd tossed on a short sleeved blue shirt with a decal that boldly stated 'One way, My way' and directional arrows on the front, and a snug pair of denim overall shorts. A comfy technically-a-first-date outfit, if she did say so herself. She slipped on a pair of flats, strapped on her dinky wrist watch, and headed for the door.
She was a little nervous, admittedly. She hadn't been on a 'date' date in a very long time. Not since before she'd moved to New York and consequent broken up with her ex. She hardly considered any of the flings she'd had in the blur that was the last two years 'dates.' There was also the fact that she already knew the man a little more intimately than normal on the first date, sooo... she wasn't exactly sure what to do. Play it off like normal? Yep. That's what she fully intended to do.
Slinking down the hallway toward his unsuspecting door, she knocked a few times and fiddled with the gift in her hands. She'd been stressing for the better part of the day about if the gift was appropriate, but had given up at caring at some point and just went with it. In her hands sat a little sheer baggy full of chocolate coins. She'd put stickers on one side of each coin; some that said things, like 'kiss me' and whatnot, and some that were just various video game characters. Hopefully he'd get it. The coins were supposed to go with the theme of the date, which was one of her personal favorite places to be.
When the door opened she grinned and held the baggy out toward him. "Hello, good sir. Care to escort me to the danger room for a good ol' fashion a%$ whooping at arcade games?"
Normally Shelby was not a fan of shrinks, counselors, and the like. She understood that it took years to earn the degree, and many many many classes. Blood, sweat, and tears. She knew that, so it's not like she had anything against the title itself. It was basic psychology, after all. No, what she detested was the person wearing that title. The little man or woman who sported the hat and thought themselves a fix-it-all. Like they could talk away the anguish, sweep the memories under the rug.
This was her second visit to this particular counselor, and she was not a fan. He seemed frustrated by her lack of instantaneous recovery. The fact that she still wasn't really eating, and that sleeping was still hard to do unless someone else was present in the room with her didn't make him happy. His grumpiness filtered over into her and their short sessions were often composed of him giving her tasks she deemed impossible to complete for the stage of grief she was in, and her stubbornly refusing to answer any questions she deemed unimportant.
She had requested a different counselor, but gotten shot down. She'd have to deal with his shenanigans on her own.
As she exited the building, cheeks reddened with frustration, she shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat and hurried down the steps to where her ride would be waiting. Considering the fact that she was still pretty much under house arrest for the next foreseeable forever, she couldn't go out on her own. She had been lucky right at first that an x-man had been the one who found her, as he had been willing to take her places to get set up in her new 'home'. Unfortunately all good things cannot last and the X's were a fairly busy bunch. That meant that the task of being her glorified babysitter had fallen down to the next rung on the ladder. The police. The unfortunate fellow that had gotten stuck with her this time around she'd never met before. She'd hardly said more than a few words at him either when he'd picked her up. She wasn't generally very chatty before forced shrink visits.
She missed the last cop, anyway. Officer Gallagher had been someone she'd met with multiple times. She'd been the woman at the scene of the crime who had tucked a blanket around Shelby's shoulders and offered to get her a cup of warm tea.
As she sidled back up to the car and her 'driver', she couldn't help compare the many differences. Gallagher was a tall, blonde, stern woman with a face like a hawk, and she could spear you with the look from across the room. It was the kind of look that made your spine unintentionally straighten and you'd break out in a cold sweat.
... She liked that woman. "Sorry I took so long." She muttered.
She suppressed a sigh as she turned to look out her window. It was overcast, grey and looked as if the heavens were in turmoil. "Yes, I have." She muttered into the phone, crossing an arm over her stomach.
"I recently lost a very good friend in a really unexpected, bad way." She didn't need to go into to many details. "I haven't actually been painting very much, too busy with... stuff."
She eyed the bare walls of her room and sighed again. "'Lost Flower' is one of the first I've painted in a while. I think it was my third project this week?" She shrugged, not caring enough to try and remember dates and times. "Anyway, the flowers are meant to symbolize those left behind. Those who are forced to go on living, even though they may very well feel dead inside themselves. Hence the skulls."
"Anyway, Ma'am, before I get into my life story... Thank you for your purchase. I will have the paining wrapped and sent to your P.O. box as soon as I receive the payment... That can be sent to my own P.O. box, which is on my page on the website, or, if you prefer, I have an online Paybuddy account you can use as well."
Weird old woman. Still, she'd take a compliment when it was given. Not very many people really appreciated her work at all. When the woman shot down her price, and then upped it, she stumbled on her way back to her easel. "T-twelve hundred!?" She cleared her throat and paused to calm herself. "I mean, I priced it based off of the hours and supplies it took to make it, but if you are sure Ma'am i'm not one to say no." Freaky loaded crazy old woman.
She turned and grabbed a pen and paper when the woman started talking about P.O. Boxes and the like. "Mhm, oh no, of course. I understand completely." Said the woman currently in some odd form of the witness protection program. "That should work just fine. I've got a pen and pad, whenever you are ready."
Once she had the details, she started doodling a little picture in the corner of the paper. "Ma'am, if you don't mind me asking... you mentioned earlier that you felt loss within the painting. Did you really mean it?" She didn't normally ask people personal questions when they were buying her work... but this situation was unique. She truly wanted to know her opinion on the art.
Perhaps she had a 90 year old kindred soul out there somewhere?
That time she did remove the phone from her ear to give it an incredulous stare. Old people were weird, man. She set her brush down and stood, meandering over to where she had that particular painting stashed.
"..Lost flower? A-are you sure that was the one you were looking at, Ma'am?" Pulling the piece out, she eyed it and frowned. It was a painting of two large daisy's with skulls for faces, weeping blood into a headstone set between them. The flower's leaves were bent up like hands to partially hide some of the bone from view.
The old women wanted that one? She fished through the stack of them, finding another that was flower centric, without the blood and bones. "I have another piece called 'Laughing flower'... did you mean that one?"
Whatever answer she got, she pulled the painting out and set it on her desk propped up against the wall.
"Well, for that particular one the price is $800." She could hear purring in the background and chuckled softly. Sounded like a real grandma on the other side of the line.
She was immersed in her current project, so much so that she very nearly didn't hear her phone go off until the second ring. Blinking at the unknown number she hit the answer button with the pad of her thumb and lifted it to her ear, where she wedged it firmly against her shoulder. "Hello?"
"H-Hello? Have I reached the right number? I'm inquiring about the art posted on the line!"
The voice on the other end was so old and sweet sounding. She very nearly missed the on the line part. Shelby blinked, "The art online?" She echoed, "From Bythecanvas.com?" She balanced her makeshift pallet in one hand, a paintbrush held aloft in the air with another and attempted to finish the corner of the piece she was working on. Another commission, as it were.
"If you are looking for Heidi, you have the right number. Was there a particular piece of art that you were interested in or were you looking for place an order for a commission piece?"
A few more strokes, she switched colors, and then... bam! It was done. Before her sat probably one of the weirdest commissions she had ever done, but... money was money. Who needed a painting of a zombie cat in a clown suit anyway? It was totally creepy.
Yes, windows were good. Too many times had she tried to dye her hair in un-ventilated areas. Too many brain cells she had lost.
She giggled at the other woman's apparent enthusiasm and set to work. First she used one of her combs to separate pre-combed hair. She tried to find the best place for a hidden color job to go; not to low or to high. Somewhere around the middle of the back of the head. Maybe top-middle. She shook the bleach bottle, one finger secure over the tip, until it was well mixed and started to apply. Shelby went ahead and did the bleaching in three different sections to make it easier, foil wrapping one after another until she was done, then she let them sit.
"Okay, those should be good... we just have to check on them every few minutes to make sure they are lightening correctly, and not too much."
She set the bleach bottle over by the window so most of the fumes would leave on their own accord, and stepped into her bathroom to grab her travel mirror. It was a decently sized one, which made it easy to apply makeup from her desk, or bed, depending on how lazy she felt at the time.
When she returned, she used it to take a peek at her own roots. The natural color was starting to seep in, and looked nearly brown when compared to the pink that surrounded it. After fishing out one of her many brushes, she snagged the bleach again (and a pair of gloves for Zinni) and approached the sitting woman.
"Wanna help me bleach the crap out of my roots while we wait?"
She led the way to her room with ease, eyeballing Saph's door as she passed it. It was closer, but she hardly wanted to wreck his bathroom with dye. "This one right here." She unlocked it and shouldered her way in, dropping her back and stuff off on the floor just inside. The walls of her room were decorated with various paintings, some only recently started, some already finished. The subject matter varied greatly. She set the bag of good down on her bed and sighed happily.
"Erm, ignore the mess if you can. I'm still in the process of feelings things out for decorating."
Luckily for zinnia, Shelby had the tools of an artist at her disposal so they both wouldn't have to try and cram themselves into her small bathroom. She dropped down and dug a pile of rolled up sheets from under her bed. Heavy duty fabric meant to protect the carpets and furniture while painting rooms. She adored them for easy of cleanup when she pained her pictures. She made quick work of laying a few out, and by the time she was done her room looked very much like it was primed and ready to protect everything but the ceiling from a paint explosion.
"Alright," She started, digging out a spare t-shirt for Zinni and a chair. "You can put this on if you want, to protect your clothes. I have tons of them for when I paint." If you looked closely, you could see splatters of different shades decorated the fabric.
"I think it will be easier doing it right out here instead of in my tiny bathroom. I'll do your hair first, and then when you go in to take a shower I can throw my stuff in."
She cracked open the packet of gloved and slid a pair on, then set about getting the bleach and dye bowls ready.
Pulling back slightly, she squinted up at him uncertainly. He had just asked her if she would want to move into his room with him... normally she would have said no, if there wasn't a murderous cockroach spying on her. She wanted to say yes, but also wanted to know exactly what he had meant when he said he wouldn't mind having her around. Like... was there a smutty connection to that?
She blinked at him, lashes wet from her brief episode, and laughed. "Yeah, that sounds alright." She smiled and wiped at her cheek with a wrist to remove the moisture that had managed to escape. "I'll even leave all of my art stuff in here. No use cluttering up your room with a bunch of junk, huh?"
She would need to take her computer though, as well as a few other key items. Things she didn't want people rooting around in. Thankfully all of it could fit in her backpack. She shifted to her knees again so she could look him in the eye, curled her arms around his shoulder and grinned.
"Thank you Saph... it means a lot to me." She planted a kiss on his cheek.
Shelby smiled at her, chuckling to herself. "I feel likes it's become second nature to most. Anything out of the ordinary among the generic masses must be identified and ostracized."
She stopped and grabbed the door handle, opening it wide for her new friend. "But, that gives us all the more reason to stand out. The more of us there are, the better chances that we will change the numbers in our favor. We won't be so abnormal anymore."
Once she was inside she split up temporarily to grab the supplies she would need. A few throw away bowls, a comb or two. Blue, medical gloves to protect their hands. She grabbed some foil and a few kitchen towels to protect shoulders. Then she headed for the hair care aisle. She regrouped with Zinnia after, her basket packed full of boxed dye and supplies.
"I think I got everything!" She beamed, struggling to hold up the basket.
