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.
A chuckle escaped Jack, in spite of herself. Turned her dad into a cat! Her hair flared orange just thinking about it. Well, thank God for small favors, at least she’d been turned human instead of turned into a cat! What a funny way to find out about your mutation. Reflexively, the taller woman covered her mouth when she laughed, a habit acquired from when she had prawn-y mouthparts.
“I can’t imagine how bizarre that must have been,” Jack admonished, “My coming-out,” in more ways than one, Jack thought drolly, “-was decidedly less lighthearted. I don’t remember much of transforming. Except that it f***ing hurt.” And, well, being trapped in the basement, attacked by her dad… but Emma didn’t need all of the details.
Emma seemed to have a change of spirits, announcing that she was feeling better, that they didn’t have to go back to her apartment, et cetera, asking Jack what it was that she wanted to do. Jack tapped her chin contemplatively, squinting her eyes at the smaller woman.
“You sure you aren’t gonna pass-out on me?” she pressed skeptically, “I mean… you did get… flattened by a two-hundred-plus-pound rainbow-shrimp.” With spines.
“A shower does sound nice,” the prawn assured her newfound friend, “Or clothes that aren’t so… soaked? I’d be down to go to your house, or maybe to a Chars to get some clothes.”
“I’n not rich,” the prawn avowed. She wouldn’t bother mentioning that she knew the man in the penthouse, though. There was no reason to tell Skye that, “Hate to disa’oint, ‘ut I’n a’sraid dat I’s just got a nod-est one roo’n ‘lace.”
And when Jack said that it was modest, she meant modest. Though Devon had helped her acquire some basic furnishings, it barely looked lived-in, besides smatterings of stuff here-and-there. The two pushed through the doors into the entry-hall, a cavernous and brightly-lit room, very elegant and classy. To the right was the receptionist, to the left was Inferno. Jack gave a brief wave to the receptionist, before proceeding to the elevator. She punched the “up” button, and waited for their chariot to arrive. It was her home, so she didn’t pause to dwell on the beauty of it all. The elevator binged, the doors glided open.
Not wanting to crowd Skye, Jack stepped through first. She did, however, prevent the door from opening by clasping one primary hand around the frame. She punched the button for her floor, the doors slid shut. It was a smooth ride, one of those elevators that you could barely feel moving, except in the pit of your stomach. In no time at all, they’d arrived at their destination.
“Alright,” the prawn breathed, allowing Skye to disembark first. The halls were quiet. Jack stepped around the smaller woman to walk down the hall, past quiet doorways towards her own, familiar unit.
“Hone, sweet hone,” the prawn murmured. She hoped to god that she hadn’t left anything embarrassing out. Keys were fished out of her pocket, the door was fussed with briefly before being wrestled open. Jack flipped on a light and stepped in, leaving the door open for Skye behind her.
Despite the prawn’s insistence that she was not secretly rolling in the dough, the apartment was, undeniably, nice. Though it was sparsely furnished, the light fixtures and the kitchen set-up suggested that this was all an intentional move to make the space seem more modern. Here-and-there were hints that the space was lived in… a laptop, some crumpled papers, a woodworking project in the corner… but, otherwise, it looked like it was ripped out of a magazine, all sterile and geometric and spacious.
“Duh a’art-nent cane wiss duh stu’ss,” the prawn said quickly. That was a half-truth. Devon had helped her buy it, “I’n really grate-sul sore it. I didn’t has a lot.” She set her books on the dining room table, and padded into the kitchen. “Hungry? Sirsty?”
The prawn sighed, but said nothing more. Skye got cozy, quieted down, settled. To each their own, Jack supposed. She kept her stride steady, silently praying that no one crossed paths with them. Even if Skye was in her arms voluntarily, it'd look weird for some seven-foot-tall mutant to be walking along with someone in their arms bridal style.
Thankfully, the walk was quiet. Jack was quiet. Skye was quiet. She stopped outside of the door to Devon's building, shaking her arms slightly as if to rouse Skye.
"Hey," she said, softly, "We're here."
Something about carrying Skye over the threshold felt weird, and she wouldn't want one of her neighbors, some other Haven member, or Devon himself asking questions.
"Let's get to duh ele'ator, I'n a ways utt." Jack pantomimed an elevator going up by tracing a vertical line with her finger, then tapped at her imaginary room. It wasn't the penthouse, but it was a ways up there.
The statuesque woman smiled and nodded as Emma explained the clothing situation. Jack wasn't entirely sure what "maxi dresses" were (since she didn't wear womens' clothes, typically), but she supposed that wearing a dress removed the possibility of high-waters.
"I mean..." Jack trailed, in regards to the shoes, "This... is a first for me... I think getting shoes would be more trouble than it's worth..." The walk home would suck, big-time, but if it was only once... she could deal.
She nodded as Emma explained that she could give humans and mutants powers.
"That'd be a sharp kick in the pants, for a human," she mused, pushing her free hand through her hair. What a novel sensation! A wry expression touched her face, "I'd assume people aren't usually as... enthusiastic... as I am...?"
The trains squealed into a station-- stopped to let some people off, and more people board-- then it wheezed back into motion.
Calling attention to the blush only caused it to deepen. Skin had its downfalls. The train lurched into motion, accelerating in spurts, prompting Jack to clasp a nearby pole for balance. The pole was cold against her palm.
>> "Well, I'm not as far away as you are. We could go back to my apartment, if you wanted. You could get some dry clothes and a hot shower, at least."
“I think your clothes would be high-waters on me,” Jack teased. She couldn't fathom showering in a stranger's house, either, “I’ll make sure you get home, though.”
She made a point of surveying the car around her, willing the blush to go away. Her face felt stupid hot, and her heart was stuttering in her chest. She was way too lesbian for this. And everything was pink, pink, pink.
>> "It lasts about four hours, but you have to stay close to me."
Time was limited, then. And buying clothes, such as shoes, wouldn't be an incredible priority. Jack surveyed her long, slender feet. They'd look good in shoes. She didn't even know what size she'd wear, though.
She glanced back towards Emma, a smile cracking on her features. What an interesting gift Emma had. Infinitely more interesting than looking shrimpy and punching things, “Can you give humans powers too, or just mutants?”
The prawn exhaled sharply, breathing a huff… as if it was a terrible imposition to have to carry Skye. It was nothing, really… she gestured for Skye to come closer. Methodically she tucked one hand behind the other woman's legs, practically forming a bench with her hand. She then righted herself, casting a hesitant sidelong glance at Skye.
Jack had lifted girls dozens of times at Chrysalis, always per their request. This was no better, and no worse.
“Okay?” she clicked. They were eye-to-eye now, “Le’ nee know iss you want down…”
The prawn started down the familiar path towards her apartment complex. Trying to swallow the simmering nerves. She showed no sign of struggling to carry the smaller woman, and walked with long, certain strides.
A tinge of purple responded to the other woman's remark about pink, but was then replaced by yellow-orange and an absurd laugh.
“I don't know what it means!”
The woman tenderly announced that she was glad to be the one crushed under Jack, a hand patting the sleeve-clad arm. The pink came back to her hair and hands, and a flush rose on her pale cheeks. It was amazing how much she could feel, with human arms. Jack pinched the back of her own hand, delighted by the sting that answered.
>> “You look like you are pretty chilly. Do you live nearby so we can get you some dry clothes? And I think I may need to lie down for bit, but I don't wanna try and go home by myself."
The pink persisted, and the prawn could feel herself shaking her head. No matter how cold she was right now, she guaranteed that it would be colder outside. And the last place she wanted to go while looking like this was back home… to put on old clutches... there was so much to do, when you looked like this! But where could she start? It was a thought Jack had entertained every now and again, ‘What would she do if she could human again?’, but she'd never thought that it could actually happen.
“I don't actually live around here,” the taller woman confessed. She'd been sent this way to get something for Devon and, having retrieved it, would need to make her way back at home to deliver it, “I'm near the Central Park Zoo…” which was across town, “... I'm sure I'll dry out! I'm just not… you know… used to being so… vulnerable. To the elements.”
Jack looked at her feet again, wiggling her toes. Shoes would be helpful, but would it be worth it to buy shoes?
>> "My name's Emma. Will you stay with me until I feel better?"
“I'll stay with you, Emma,” Jack assured her, shaking her hand. The pink was still there. The subway screamed into the terminal, gliding to a halt. With a hiss, the doors opened. Jack released Emma's hand.
“After you,” the taller blond said politely. The two of them boarded together, bumbling through the crowd. Miracle of miracles, there was a seat, and Jack did her best to stand in front of it, blocking the seat so that Emma could take it. If she needed to lie down, there was no sense in making her stand. The train lurched into motion, pulling out of the station.
“Do you know... how long this lasts?”
If this was her mutation, she might know… but some people weren't familiar with specifics. There was so much she wanted to do… try on a dress, take a hot shower, and… well… there were some objectives you couldn't entertain in polite company. Jack shook her head.
"Where do you want to go?"
The first priority was the other woman's wellbeing. Jack had to remind herself of that. She was only in this position because of that woman's mutation.
Jack bobbled her head, as if to confirm but also contend what the woman was saying, "It's duh city dat ne'er slee's. I guarantee ya, you nay'n it, dere's 'ro'ly one dat's o'en twenty-sore hours a day..."
Skye seemed to be winding-down... fast... the announcement that they had a twenty-minute walk ahead of them slowed her down that much more. Or so Jack thought. She had a soft spot for women, dare she say it, and it was easy for them to play her, sometimes. Like now, for example.
>> "You... don't think you could... carry me... do you?"
"Carry you," Jack intoned, arching a brow ridge. Skye all but melted against her, and Jack's stomach clenched, "Carry you? I mean, I could."
As in, there was a distinct possibility that she could. But would she?
The answer was yes, yes she would.
If Skye was playing-up her exhaustion, Jack was playing-up her unwillingness. From a pragmatic standpoint, she could get home that much faster, if she didn't have to slow her pace down for Skye.
"You don't mind being carried?"
By me, was the wordless addition to that sentence?
The taller woman surveyed the felled blond with genuine concern, but the remark that followed caught her off-guard.
>> "Wow, you're beautiful."
A flicker of green, chased by a pink that persisted.
"Am I?" was the incredulous response, a toothy grin breaking across her face, "You're a vision, yourself."
It was a stuffy thing to say, that someone was a "vision". Jack was just delighting in the ability to say the "v" sound, honestly. That, and the apparently-human appearance made her feel more brave. Jack inclined her head as the other woman explained that she'd be fine, despite some scuffs and bruises. She was a kickboxer (how cool and unexpected!) and besides which, she'd seen when Jack had been toppled.
The taller woman rubbed the back of her neck bashfully, giving an apologetic smile, "That doesn't mean getting crushed beneath an eight-foot behemoth was necessarily... part of your plan? But I'm glad that you're okay."
Jack was embarrassed-- embarrassed because she'd been caught off guard, that she'd blacked-out from electrocution, and that she'd nearly flattened an attractive bystander in the process. Jack fished her phone out of her pocket, but she didn't turn it on. She used the black phone-screen to survey her reflection. Pale skin, angular face, cold expression (though perhaps just because she was freezing her a** off)... blond hair fell in unkempt waves past her chin, and lavender eyes squinted contemplatively. A smile quirked at the corner of her lips. Jack repocketed her phone.
"You did this?" she pressed, excited yellow coursing into her hair. The subway screamed at some distant part of the tunnel. It would be here soon, "This is your mutation? How cool."
Her hands were glowing, after all. Jack didn't mean her remark to be reductive. If anything, her excitement had not abated. She was human... each correctly-pronounced syllable was delectable... And it was all because of the woman in front of her.
"My name's Jacquelyn. Usually go by Jack. It's a pleasure."
God, she sounded so classy without the speech impediment. Jack extended a hand as she introduced herself.
Her mind hummed indistinctly, scared, excited, confused. This rush of emotions muddied the aura around Jack's hands and darkened her hair to an inky black. Once again, her hands found her own boobs. Maybe that wasn't appropriate in public, but it was so novel, and-- gosh, her feet were cold! Her bare, human feet!
“How…?” the woman mused aloud. The sting of the chill that crept into her bare feet helped center Jack. Hadn't she fallen into someone on her way down? Jack turned to search the direction she'd fallen, and was faced by a petite blonde woman. The woman had already pulled herself to her feet, but was rubbing her head bemoaningly.
“Are you okay?” Jack demanded, her face puckering with concern, “That guy came out of nowhere-” actually, the warning signs had been clear, she'd just been too stubborn to move, “-and gosh, I'm so sorry, are you hurt?”
Subconsciously, Jack noted that she was still taller than the blond woman, and a good deal taller than the people around her. Maybe a six feet tall, or a little bigger. Not as tall as she had been, though.
Another thought that crossed the prawn's mind was that maybe the electrical attack from the man in the baseball cap had been some sort of mutation-warping or -nullifying ability.
The prawn nodded in agreement, marveling at Skye's hair and luminous palms. While others might be startled by the fluctuating lights, the prawn had decided that they were harmless... perhaps random, perhaps not... and was this unconcerned with any meaning that might be behind it.
"O' course, o' course," the prawn said quickly, motioning for Skye to follow her, "I work nights, so I sore-get dat duh rest uzz duh world is usually aslee' at dis tine."
Once she was sure that Skye was with her, Jack wedged her hands into her pockets, and led the way with slow strides down the street. One might construe this as a casual pace, but Jack was actually concerned with accidentally leaving her companion in the dust.
"I not too sar s'run here," Jack reported, "Nay'e twenty nin-utes." Jack's eyes punched in a smile, and she tugged shyly at her surgical mask. Her heart stuttered. Another woman... in her apartment! How long had it been?
Easy girl, she's just sleeping over. Jack pressed a hand to her chest.
Jack's first mistake was her decision to ignore the two "gentlemen", and she used that term very, very loosely. The conflict devolved into a shouting match. Lightning crackled from the aggressor's hands, eliciting frightened shouts from bystanders. By then, Jack looked up. By then, the man in that ballcap was swiping. His target dodged, he glanced Jack, and the spasm that the electricity sent through the prawn toppled her like a tree.
Son of a b***h.
Her limbs spasmed and her vision went black. Someone had broken her fall. But Jack was rearing for a fight and scrambling to her feet, despite her quivering limbs.
"Hey, a**hole, why don't you fight outside, where we don't have t-?!"
Mid-reprimand, the prawn broke off. She had been shaking her fist at the men. Rather than a three-fingered, shelled fist, the hand she shook was freckled, pale, and very human. Furious red light crackled around her clenched fist.
"Wh-what... the..."
Was this-? Jack drew the hand-- her hand, she supposed-- to her face. Fleshy digits met fleshy cheeks and teeth and--
"What the f***?"
Jack looked down. These were her clothes, the clothes she'd left the house in, but they fit differently. The pants pinched her waist where hips jutted out, her hoodie and jacket hung off of her loosely, and-- Jack pulled at the collar of her shirt. No. Way. She had boobs!
"Holy sh**..."
Furious red was replaced by a humored orange, with flickers here-and-there of green in her hair- she had hair!!- and emanating out of her palms. A nervous laugh rose out of her as baffled fingers ran through foreign hair, pressed to a chest that she supposed was hers, and surveyed every aspect of the unfamiliar corporeal terrain.
The weather was awful. Blistering winds and unforgiving rain. Though Jack's carapace was enough to dull the sting of the raindrops, she could still feel the chill seeping into her limbs. So, the Amazonian woman retreated to the subway station, shaking water droplets free of her head. As soon as she descended through the tunnel, warm air rose to greet her.
In the bustle of the subway station, people jostled into her without much thought. Personal space wasn't a luxury you could afford, here. Jack followed the flow of the foot traffic, past stalls of magazines and convenience items, towards the terminal where her train would arrive. She checked her phone, more out of reflex than out of a desire to know the time. She was early. The phone was repocketed.
The prawn stood with her gaze toward the tracks, a hand upon her hip. Today's ensemble entailed the prawn's usual cargo pants and hoodie ensemble, with an additional canvas-and-sherpa coat for additional insulation. Jack unhooked her surgical mask from the spines along her jaw, but only to wring the water out of it.
"Hey! The f*** are you doing here?"
The shout pulled the prawn's attention. A guy in a baseball cap seemed to be addressing someone immediately in front of Jack.
"Hey man, it's not what it looks like, I just had to get my sh** from Ice, okay?"
Jack drolly turned her attention back towards the tracks. It wasn't her business if two a**holes wanted to bicker while waiting for the train.
>> "Oh, I texted him, so I should be fine… He's letting me stay with him while I get on my feet; I just moved here from Maine, so I don't really have much to call my own,"
Jack nodded her head, her antennae lifting at the news. She'd been in a similar position too, when she'd first moved. She has stayed in hostels while pinning down an apartment and a position.
“Iss nice dat you has san’ily to hel' you out,” the prawn rumbled, “Es’ecially in duh city. It's its own entity.”
Then, the most crucial question.
>> "Twenty-one,"
A tension that Jack hadn't been aware she was carrying released from her shoulders. It occurred to Jack that she could be lying, but that wouldn't matter unless they went to a bar… or, you know.
A laugh burbled out of her, a sound like birdsong or a rippling brook. There was something familiar, yet distinctively inhuman, about it.
“Gosh, you’re young,” Jack said, with a pat on Skye’s shoulder, “Just had to ‘e sure I wasn't taking sun high school soss-nore s'run her uncle's house…”
The prawn paused, realizing what she'd said was a little rude. She stepped away from Skye, holding up apologetic hands as if to placate any simmering protests.
“N-n-not dat looking young isn't good! You really cute, it ‘ro’a'ly has its ad’antages. Right?”
