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.
Name: Magnum FC: Michelle Rodriguez Special Requests: honestly I'm always impressed because people are so much better than me at image editing (and I lost my Photoshop when my computer died to I have to use /free/ programs now x.x) Basically, you're in a thread with Mag now and can go stalk the posts she's already made... so just try and, I don't know, take that essence and concentrate it into a sig? PM me if you're desperate for ideas or want a sounding board and I'll be happy to help, but I'd like to see what you come up with/see her as.
“Oh, I’m not concerned,” she said. Yeah, not concerned my foot. As if to reinforce her theory, the blonde took a few steps back to her belongings and then sat down. Nicotine gone, the latina realized her power was running amok again and put more conscious effort toward keeping it under wraps. Excitement or not, it would be hard to explain a localized rain cloud that had appeared out of nowhere; she was already choking the other woman with humidity, after all.
Aside from her apparent lie, there was something else she was hiding. No one hiked out into the woods alone this far without a purpose. Despite her harassment, Magnum had been serious when she had mentioned the danger of being out here without some sort of self defense. Never mind predatory males, animals of all kinds roamed this forest - from harmless squirrels to bears to wolves - all of them carrying some disease or another. “Maybe you could talk to the mayor or something. I'm sure he doesn't appreciate you shooting that poor tree.” Magnum plastered a slightly bitter smile on her cheeks. “I would love to talk to Mr. Mayor if he’s concerned about my shooting a tree, but this is outside of his jurisdiction. Why else would I come this far?” she asked rhetorically. The blonde became more visibly annoyed as the conversation grew longer. Perhaps she was out here to meet with one of her many boy toys while another one slept back at home in their bed.
Responding to her attitude, Magnum changed her own posture. Just as quickly as her irritation had appeared, it was gone. In its place the blonde held her perfectly painted fingers out. “I’m Charlotte,” she stated plainly. Being the first friendly movement that had been offered, it was accepted with skepticism. Mag reached out, quickly shook her hand, and sat down on a stump a few paces away from her. “My name’s Magnum.” responded, forcing a pleasantness into her tone. “But seriously, what’s a pretty little thing like yourself doing all the way out here? I’ll keep your secret.”
The humidity began slowly dispersing, though not nearly fast enough to save Charlotte’s hair if it continued at this intensity.
It was early. Well, it was four in the afternoon. For Magnum, it was far too early to be awake. Way. Too. God damned. Early. Yet Magnum was awake. Her nightmares had returned; flashbacks to her mother, to the orphanages from her younger years in the system, to the acts she’d committed in her new life. They happened the same way each time. They refused to release her until they were done. They included the same people with the same expressions plastered on their faces. The Chief of Police in Chicago smiling sadly down at her, trying to put on a brave face for the girl who was found sobbing in her mother’s blood. The looks of hatred from other children as they realized they had another face to compete with when potential parents came to visit. The dank chill that permeated the air on the first night she ran away. The violence she’d witnessed. The violence she’d taken part in. Tears were dried to her face every morning after the dreams, requiring face wash to eliminate the salt grains plastered to her skin.
After her shower, Magnum decided that going back to bed wasn’t a safe option. Neither was going out, really, because being a criminal in broad daylight was much more difficult. Only the extremely light-fingered crooks could pass as normal citizens in crowds of blue and white collar workers rushing to and fro. Anyways, this was not her forte - Mag stole from under people’s noses, not their asses. It was morning though, which meant that she had nothing to do except exercise. She pulled on her trainers, the only casual set of shoes that she actually owned, a sports bra, and running shorts. Cardio in New York was better than in LA, she had to admit begrudgingly.
Her hand landed on the knob, turned slightly, shook the door loose, and pulled. However, she noticed a package on her porch. Bending down, she could tell that it the sides included graffiti of a famous mutant gang. She could also tell the box contained a bleeding object, because of dark red stains which permeated the cardboard. None of these qualities attracted her attention though; it was the name on the box which scared her. Christian Anierim de Torres it read.
No one, absolutely no one, knew her full name. That was not a thing that happened, Magnum had made sure of it. She’d changed her appearance, destroyed most of her social service images, and had stopped identifying as anything other than Magnum. The fact someone could find that, even a mutant as powerful and reckless as Jörmungandr, terrified her. That name connected her to the government, to a murder trial years ago, and to her father.
Quickly, she snatched the box inside, set it in her sink and stripped it of the addressee tag. Picking up an old lighter, she lit that on fire and let it burn on the counter while she retrieved the knife from her purse and sliced open the box. Inside was a paper including time and location details, promising rewards if she appeared somewhere on Tuesday at 2:45. The note was signed by the illustrious Jörmungandr.
Then, there were two photos. One of a dream car she’d only ever mentioned to three people. The other of a man, minus his hand. Below, a layer of cardboard separated the note and images from the rest of the box - and presumably whatever had been bleeding. She removed this with caution, vaguely aware of something in the back of her mind alerting her to a trap. Much to her relief, it was only the severed hand missing from the image. On it was the ring that she remembered after having gone through her father’s case file so many times before. With a small breath, it dawned on her that the man in the image was her long lost father.
The ignorant man had raped her mother while Lucia was working a case and had then left the undercover officer to handle the consequences. Luckily, this was not for naught. From the legal end, he had been arrested and jailed with a life sentence for drug and prostitution businesses, as well as an illegal weapons shop. From Lucia’s end, she ended up with the daughter she’d always wanted. Not that Magnum actually thought her mother would be proud of her now.
She liked what she saw, even if this man had managed to find her true name. This also meant he knew something about her - but what? With the Cobra, it probably had something to do with wanting her to race for him. A man of that status wouldn’t have to resort to hiring a driver to pull in cash, though, he was far too rich to even consider doing something of that nature. He might want driving lessons though. Whatever the case, Magnum decided in that instant she would show up at the place around midnight to scope it out, then sit and watch for the elusive billionaire or one of his henchmen to arrive.
After properly disposing of the hand, she sat back to wait. Today had suddenly become interesting.
At 9:30 in the evening she went down to the garage and started switching over her muffler system. Although hearing the Jag purr made crowds go wild, it would not be conducive to an undercover ops situation.
Two hours later she was done. Magnum let the car down from its custom lift and slipped the keys into the ignition, listening to the low rumble that was softer than almost any car on the market. This would do. As the clock struck 11:45, she pulled her beautiful red baby out of the garage and headed for the warehouse at the address listed.
When she arrived, it was just past midnight. She threw the gears into neutral and applied the parking break, sitting in the empty parking lot just before the pier’s entrance. When Jörmungandr showed, she would see him.
“I’m just… I’m just here for some relaxation,” the blonde managed to state. Then she continued, “and I could ask you the same, but I assume you’re taking some frustration out on that poor tree”. It seemed almost as if the girl was mocking her just like the police officer had only hours ago. The distaste in the back of Mag’s mind grew when acknowledging this fact, turning her faux smile into a more begrudging look. This lasted for the moment it took her to recoup thoughts and invent a somewhat witty response.
“Well the gun is empty now, if that’s what you’re concerned about. Yeah,” she rested a hand on her hip with a hint of sass. ”It would be a lot easier to practice my aim if NYC allowed shooting ranges inside the city, but they don’t.” This was yet another flaw on the damned city’s already long list.
Magnum’s brain did not register that New York was horrible, it was going over her chances of finding someone to have a fun night with. Definitely not femme, it commented. And definitely not butch either, by the looks of her. Slightly disappointed, her brain pushed the internal thoughts onward to different topics - she could find someone to neck with another day but the drifting cloud of cigarette smoke kept nagging at her old addictions.
The nicotine drifting her direction smelled good, but as with all drugs it messed with her control. While she could normally suppress her curse, the fact that most of her body now thrummed with desire for a puff took away from the attention she usually paid to keeping the weird water occurrences that happened around her in check. As a result, a dense, muggy humidity started appearing in the area around her and the other girl - the vast majority of this water being drawn out of the readily available lake.
As her possessor executed movements, Magnum felt herself give a small smile inward. If the male-sounding being could actually drive, he might be a good racer. But as if to reinforce that it knew nothing of street racing or manual cars, she found it asking for distinction between the clutch and gas. At the same time, the RPMs were dropping fast, as was the speed. Every second mattered in a manual race - starting too slow for the gear you were using meant beyond sh**y acceleration. With the way things were going, they needed every bit of speed that the Jag could produce. “Press right as much as you let up on the left, trying to take your foot off the left completely as fast as you can,” she coached, terrified yet again for the fate of the race - and her ego.
“Hard right pedal as much as you can through the turn, then keep pressing!” This instruction came as the demon began their drift through the turn. Well, perhaps it wasn’t a demon - she and her baby hadn’t crashed yet. Instead of whooping with the euphoria of adrenaline, the being complained. For some reason, it thought that racing wasn’t fun. Magnum couldn’t help but give a small chuckle in response to its wrongness about racing. No matter how wrong it was, she would make it finish the race before telling it how to stop without destroying her gearing.
Assuming it listened to her instructions, they still had a chance at saving the race with a quarter mile (and one turn) left. The rest of the layout was about power, which her modifications maximised. The course was a straight uphill, then a slight right and a short drag race to a right hand drift around into the starting lot. She’d have the male-voice shift into neutral as they rolled over the finish line, and donut off the speed because she didn’t trust it to downshift properly while in a crowd.
The clip was empty, but the walk had been worth it. Feeling the way the gun trembled after each shot, the power behind every miniature explosion, and the concussive echo of each report made Magnum feel much more at ease. As a result, the thick layer of humidity surrounding her began to dissipate. Suddenly, it was significantly easier to breathe. In, out… the great wilderness might have actually been enjoyable at this moment if not for the swarms of mosquitoes, flies, and other microscopic annoyances. Then, a slight movement from across the pond caught her attention. In the time it had taken to unload her rounds, some tall, blonde chick had crashed her middle-of-nowhere paradise. And the blonde in question as watching her like a vegan would a hunter. Jesus, who knew that carrying a handgun in upstate New York was such a sin?
More than anything, the new girl appeared to be significantly preppier than Magnum, which made the latina take an instant disliking to her. Sure, stereotyping was bad, but if the girl proved herself (which was highly unlikely) the disgust Mag felt could change.
What really interested her, though, was the cigarette hanging from her lips. Although she had been trying to cut out everything besides the alcohol, the appeal of lighting up had become nearly irresistible. The only reason Magnum hadn’t made it to such activities yet? She was far too lazy to go through the hoopla of purchasing a pack. Instead, she just suffered on with her limited supply of tequila, rum, brandy, whiskey, wine, and vodka.
With the draw of nicotine as her main driver, Mag gave as friendly a wave as she could bare to muster and started slowly walking around the lake toward the unnamed intruder. Even if the girl feel disinclined to share, she was sure that pinching a cigarette or two from her would be easy. When she finally got close enough that her voice could carry over the water without getting lost in its ebbs and flows, she greeted the blonde. “Hey, you look lost. What are you doing out here?”
Magnum listened to the RPMs climb to 2500 in fourth and reached for the shifting stick, simultaneously stretching to punch the clutch again. This would be easy: fifth gear, push the RPMs and speed, drift the turn, nose ahead and make it up to sixth before the next turn. Except that her hand didn’t move. Nor did her foot. And suddenly her thoughts weren’t her own, she heard another voice as it echoed in her head. "Oh god damn it! I am so sorry, Miss. Umm. How do I stop this thing seriously I don't know how to drive--” it said. Before the spirit had a chance to finish, though,her mother’s Catholic heritage sprang into action. “Demonico! Déjame solo! Ay Dios! Irse, mamagüevo!” she swore, fighting the spirit for control. English words proceeded to run from her mouth that were more colorful than San Francisco during Pride Week.
The brick face of the local CVS raced toward them, but Magnum was more focused on how the RPMs had ballooned to over 4000 and were going to begin damaging her baby soon. She hardly ever pushed the engine to 6000, but that was where they were heading if he didn’t upshift soon. And if it stretched over 8000… Well, the police wouldn’t be investigating a street race - they’d be investigating a homicide.
Also to be considered was the fact that since the gear could only spin so fast, she had lost her edge in the race. Her nose was at the back end of her opponent’s door and slipping all the time. She needed this money. Although tonight had been the best haul in a long time, both her reputation and her ego were on the line.
With no end in sight, she did the only thing that came to mind. “Hard left pedal, take your foot off the gas and slide the stick all the way back!” she shouted. “Feet on the gas and off the clutch at the same time, jerk left then hard right on the wheel.” If… whatever the hell it was listened, they might make it out of this alive and still stand a chance at winning. Or they would both die.
Magnum groaned, having discovered yet another flaw on NYC’s already lengthy list. While she was allowed to carry her gun -- her baby -- around town for her own personal safety, there were no decent firing ranges to discharge a cartridge of bullets (or two). Most reports were so loud that even the underground wouldn’t risk establishing a range in the city’s limits. So, with heavy heart and light fingers, she had taken her Jag out of the garage and driven it all the way to the countryside.
Here she found herself, trekking through the dense undergrowth of the North Eastern forest, all to shoot some f***ing bullets. As if the hour drive weren’t enough, shortly after her foot hit pavement and started for the disgusting, moss-ridden trees, a state trooper had passed her and stopped. “You know it’s illegal to carry extra rounds,” he’d said with his annoyingly nasal accent. “I’m going to have to ask you to put the rest back in your car, Miss.” Now, as much as Mag hated being talked down to, she also had a small sense of respect for law enforcement (a trait not found in many criminals, but it had kept her out of trouble on many occasions). So, instead of shooting the human or something far worse, she complied with his wishes and set out with just a handful of bullets.
Trees, and maybe even a small animal or two, were getting shot today.
Disappointment after disappointment had significantly dampened Magnum’s mood, causing small dark grey clouds to roll through the atmosphere above her. This could have been related the weather systems pushing through, but Magnum knew it wasn’t. No, this was her curse acting up again. Shooting would make her feel better though.
An hour later, with mud all over her boots and her hair significantly more mussed than when she’d stepped from the Jag, Magnum had found a tree with natural looking targets and no angry squirrels by a remote lake. She drew her .44 mag handgun and discharged two rounds into the trunk. Then, she took aim at a branch higher up. She followed with a leaf, and a few kicks and giggles shots. With a satisfied smirk, she holstered the gun again. Even though she was nearly two years out of LA, she hadn’t lost her marksman skills.
Posted by Magnum on Sept 4, 2015 16:32:55 GMT -6
Jiri O'Leary likes this
Epsilon Mutant
Hel
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Feb 3, 2016 13:31:45 GMT -6
bonk…. Bonk… BONK.. BONK! The angry tone echoed off empty walls of confined budget living, loudly announcing that it was time to get up. After arriving home at the crack of dawn with $100 less than she had netted through winning, Magnum had crashed into the less than sanitary sofa and tried to sleep away the pain pounding in her head like a hammer on nails. Now, as the last rays of yellow faded into deep reds, oranges, and purples, was time to begin the process again: live, die, repeat -- forget, remember, forever. The latina sat up slowly, smacking the alarm with malicious desires while muttering swears under her breath. “I’m already thirsty…” she groaned, rising to shrug off her clothing and head for the shower. Race, drown, repeat.
Another day, another revealing outfit to please the men and raise her bets. That and her stunning red 2014 V6 Jaguar F-type always rolled in the dough from petty boys wanting to prove themselves on the city streets (who made the mistake of thinking girls were easy money). Almost mechanically, she floored the clutch, cranked the car, cut the parking brake, and pulled out of her alley garage. The Jag’s modifications purred around her.
Inky black spanned the entirety of the sky, broken only by streetlights and headlights. The perfect night for street races because if you drove without lights the cops wouldn’t be able to get a lock on the plates. This, combined with muffler mods, made racers impossible to track -- as long as they could drive better. Mag had warmed herself up with a few easy money races, betting sex against a few grand with upscale pretty boys, but she’d had enough of that and was looking for a real challenge.
She found it in a very unexpected place: lurking behind the wheel of a 2007 Camero, electric green. He was experienced. They didn’t place high bets, but the crowd betting profits would give a large enough payout to make up for that. However, they picked a hard course. Neither had driven it before; it had enough turns to make a Ferrari racer cry. As they pulled their ponies to the starting line, her eyes narrowed in focus.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One….
In a heartbeat, she hit first, pushing the Jag to its limit.
Individual Character's full name: Christina Anierim de Torres Alias/ Nickname/ Codename: Magnum / Mag Gender: Female Age: 19 Date of Birth: 04/13/1996 Birthplace/ Home/ Place of origin: Born in Puerto Píritu, Anzoategui, Venezuela; moved with mother to Chicago, Illinois pursuing a police job in 1999; traveled across most of the United States moving between care givers since 2003; was transferred to New York in early 2013 and then released from the program on her birthday in 2014; is currently still based out of New York but travels frequently for petty criminal undertakings Nationality: American Ethnicity/ Cultural Heritage: Hispanic, Venezuelan
Appearance Hair color and style: chocolate brown, wavy, mid-back length, often half up half down or completely down, long bangs that hang in eyes Skin Tone: light tan Eye Color: heterochromia iridium (green left, blue right) Height: 5’0 Build: lithe Visible mutation: NA Scars/ Tattoos/ Piercings: Scars: A scattering from previous street fights. Most prominent located across stomach from a backhanded dagger slash, a faint but jagged line around wrist from falling and grasping at a pipe, and a small patch of scar tissue on temple from being bashed against a wall. Tattoos: None at the moment, but aspires to have some. Piercings: A small stud in the lobe of each ear. Other features: NA
Everyday: favors tank tops and jeans which further accentuate her already prevalent curves, also enjoys cargo pants and leather jackets; hair is usually down or tucked behind ears (think Letty from F&F) Uniform: NA Sleepwear: tank top and underwear or nude, depending on location and the absence or presence of others Miscellaneous: favors high-heeled boots, leather jackets, and bold makeup/accessories
Character Personality: Mag comes off as brash, enigmatic, and egocentric. She has a laissez faire policy toward almost everything in life that doesn’t immediately affect her. As a result, she can be cold, harsh, and uncaring but underneath this facade is a scared teenage girl who has spent her entire life running. This creates an interesting cross between emo-esque emotions and perfunctory disregard. Hobbies/ Interests: essentially anything to do with cars or guns Job or part time job and description: NA Fears/ phobias/ concerns: She still has violent nightmares from an earlier time when she was captured and tortured. This has also produced a somewhat irrational fear of darts and underwater submersion. She also hates felines, always having felt more like a canine herself. Special talents: silvertongue, social manipulation, being an all around jerk Other: Magnum is a bit of a loose cannon when it comes to swear words.
Morality Alignment: Chaotic Neutral A chaotic neutral character follows his whims. He is an individualist first and last. He values his own liberty but doesn't strive to protect others' freedom. He avoids authority, resents restrictions, and challenges traditions. A chaotic neutral character may be unpredictable, but his behavior is not totally random. He is not as likely to jump off a bridge as to cross it. For Magnum, being chaotic neutral means being highly self serving. She has always distanced herself from groups for fear of being held back or discovered (mutant). In many ways, she is a freelance criminal, serving either side if the price is right; however, she also has a moral compass, even if it is hidden. Magnum keeps her word on the vast majority of occasions, but may break it if circumstances change. She will harm an innocent if angry enough, but will not kill for joy - she values life too much to steal in that manner. She will think nothing of petty crime, especially of the rich, and can often be found street racing or wandering around the underground. If and when she makes a friend, she will be entirely loyal, but this kind of relationship is hard to earn. Possible chaotic neutral adjectives: unreliable, independent, greedy, inconsistent, unpredictable, selfish, disorderly, anarchic, self-centered, confusing, unfettered, free, and individualistic. Well known chaotic neutral characters from film or literature include: Captain Jack Sparrow (Pirates of the Caribbean), Q (Star Trek), Peeves the Poltergeist (Harry Potter), and Conan the Barbarian. Also see: easydamus.com/chaoticneutral.html
Mutations Molecular Water Manipulation Water Fabrication Aspheric Manipulation Moisture Sensation
Strengths Main Mutation: Molecular Water Manipulation The ability to manipulate water on a molecular scale to shift positions, states of matter (more from liquid to gas than liquid to solid), and (to a certain extent caused by increasing the vibration rate) temperature. She can control liquid water from readily available sources in medium amounts (about 10 gallons maximum) in a manner similar to water bending. Frozen water (ice) is much more difficult to manipulate because it is much stiffer, so Mag is more likely to raise its temperature through vibrations than manipulate ice. On the same plane, water vapor is easier than liquid water to control, which is why she tends to prefer dealing with it.
Facet 1: Water Fabrication The ability to fuse hydrogen and oxygen found in the surrounding air to create water. Extremely taxing and requires the utmost focus. Can also split water molecules into atomic components if more oxygen is required, but this requires even more effort than fusing.
Facet 2: Atmospheric Manipulation When manipulating water from the atmosphere, side effects can include electrical charges (lightning) and pressure systems, though these are produced indirectly. Magnum does not have control over atmospheric temperatures on a large scale so any precipitation resulting from atmospheric will fall into whatever category the temperatures support. (EG: in winter, snow or frost would fall instead of rain or fog.)
Facet 3: Moisture Sensation Although this is not an extremely powerful portion of her power, Magnum can sense different concentrations of water in her surroundings. Air humidity has the greatest sway over her, but she can perceive her surroundings based on water densities around her. Perception ability varies from a minute nagging when she’s not using her powers to a very strong awareness in the areas she is using them. Most of the time, she will be able to sense living entities much like a human with impressive perception abilities, but she can also sense walls and other materials. This portion of the sensation ability extends for approximately 10 feet around her. For her mental image of the surroundings when produced just with concentration sensations, most of the world would appear in nondescript blobs with fuzzy lines.
Weaknesses and Limitations Much of this mutation’s limit is determined by mass, volume, and range. The larger, heavier, or farther water molecules are from Mag, the more difficult they are to manipulate. It requires a greater amount of effort to fuse hydrogen and oxygen from the surrounding air than it does to manipulate water particles already present in the air. In dry environments, she can fuse enough water to create a mist cloud about 1000 cubic feet (an average room) for about 7 minutes. Anything past that begins to sap more energy than she can replace and creates a physical drain. If she goes past 12 minutes, she will black out. Maintaining a cloud in a moist environment is significantly easier, however, as all she has to do is shift the placement of water molecules to suit her desires. A small raincloud can be maintained for nearly two hours with constant drizzling on a sunny day. Larger clouds, such as enough to cover a single square mile are more taxing and can only be maintained for about 15 minutes. As with water, Mag has the easiest time (and therefore prefers) moist, maritime climates. She is more susceptible to dehydration when using her powers in dry climates as some of the water she draws upon will come from her own body. Magnum does not respond well to heat and tends to hide during peak daylight times, doing business in the late evenings and early mornings. Also, the more focus and effort a process requires the more vulnerable she is. Due to her meager ability in controlling her powers, there are points in time when Magnum will possess a personal rain cloud and others where the sky will cloud up in minutes. A lot of her current prowess depends on her moods and ranges wildly in power.
Physical Abilities General Physical Capabilities: Strength: extremely weak, does well to lift 35 lbs Speed: faster than the average human, can run away from you easily Reflexes: faster than average Stamina: can run about a mile before dropping down… less if on rough terrain Flexibility: high stealth, low flexibility Mutated Strength (range of effect): almost a full house Mutated Control: heck no there’s not an ounce of control going on here, mutation appearances are specifically limited to her mood and are mostly controlled in a suppression manner, not a defined experimental manner
Fighting Style: When the option presents itself, she will always opt for small firearms over a knife. Magnum favors close range or hand to hand combat because she does not know how to control her mutation - this will change when she learns how to manipulate it safely as the mutation itself is better suited for long range or support fighting.
History Of Your Character Christina Anierim de Torres was born on April 13th, 1996 to Lucia Martina de Torres, the result of a job-gone-wrong in Lucia’s field of work. On July 18th, 1999, Lucia was offered a job with the American government to assist with the take down of an illegal cartel operating from Latin America. After the bust, Lucia and her daughter received full citizenship awards and were relocated to Chicago, Illinois. Lucia remained involved in police work until her murder in November 2002. At the time of forced entry, Lucia and Christina had been engaged in a game of hide and seek, with Christina doing the hiding. Through a complicated series of events that Christina was too terrified to observe, her mother was shot in the head and killed. Christina discovered her minutes after death. All-consuming grief led to the first signs of her mutation. A raincloud formed in the living room and lasted for the better part of a half hour. Mother and daughter stayed together until a concerned colleague performed a house call after Lucia failed to show up for work or call in sick.. In January 2003, Christina became an official ward of the court and was placed in a group home. The System, as she refers to it, was a dark and disparaging place, but luckily most left her to her misery and no further water incidents occurred. By her 12th birthday, Christina had chosen to stop using her legal name, as it reminded her of her mother. Instead, she chose a name inspired by her new found fascination with guns: Magnum. On April 14th, 2008, Magnum ran away from the system. She spent the next 6 years running away, and for the most part it was effective. When she was finally released in 2014, she reveled in the freedom, but the damage had been done. She has yet to master her mutation, thinking of it more as a curse than a gift. However, when her emotions are stable she is able to hide it proficiently. Without a proper family, Magnum has little to no regard for others and is emotionally volatile. Anyone wishing to get close to her is going to have endure quite a few storms (literally).
So, thanks to a nasty decision by Fish's coin, there's a lot more here about relationships and her time in Chicago that I need to type. Until that point, just come bug me and I'll give you a significantly less pretty version of what happened the 3 years she was there.
Roleplay
Where did you learn about this site?: I stumbled across it courtesy of Google.
Do you have any other characters on MRO, if so who: NA
Sample RP:
New York, with its suffocating streets and humid weather, was painful- painfully tight, painfully triggering, painfully lazy. The city’s heartbeat was painfully mechanical; driven by extremist-capitalism and feasting upon the souls of lost workmen, New York seemed to suck the life out of every living creature. It’s a wonder they still had plants creeping up through the sidewalks. On top of the lifelessness, dank clouds of moisture coated every inch of atmosphere. Their thrum constantly reminded Magnum she was nothing more than a time bomb. Sooner or later, she would lose control again, but this time the weather would push her instead of stopping her. LA, she had decided the moment an all too peppy flight attendant escorted her from the plane, was much better than New York.
She had been good. She had waited a whole seven days before acting out this time. Really, if we’re being honest, the green family who had signed up to foster her had no right to be treated the way they were. A young couple who had barely started their own journey together decided to register for licensing, and specifically requested the “troubled over-fifteens”. Aside from that, they had committed no sin. Honestly, if not for the city and a reputation that required upholding, Magnum might have been happy to stay.
But she wasn’t. Instead, on the seventh night, she stayed out past the established curfew, modified her new clothing, found her way into New York’s underground and locked her eyes on the gambling table. Though gambling wasn’t her forte, racing was, there was always something to pickpocket if you were quick enough. At the end of the night players either lost or earned enough that one would miss chump change.
Oct 1, 2015 14:57:48 GMT -6
Magnum: I was a ninja and managed to exist for a whole month without a sample RP. Thanks for ruining that Ghost xP And also the thing about her relationship.
