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.
I like the idea. I don't think I have any politician grade characters at the moment. I think this has potential to be great fun!
I think this could lead to a real civil war type situation with mutants with differing opinions fighting amongst themselves. Lots of character growth and personal plot options.
Elliott could always be trained to be a politician. He's already green. That's in these days, right? Being green?
"Yes," Kineta replied politely, if succinctly. "You are." She didn't quite see the relevance, and it showed ever so slightly in her tone. She was the negotiator, though. Her skills at communication weren't wholly worthless. If you hadn't been looking for unprofessionalism, you wouldn't have even detected the faintest hint of it in her tone. A pity Mr. Jaager most likely was, and had been expecting it.
In their office, somewhere in the city, Megara stopped mid-sip. Cybele folded get newspaper over to focus intently on the call that was now on speakerphone on both ends. She watched her sister's handling of it, ready to jump in at the drop of a pin.
She did not like the words Mr. Jaager was saying. None of them did. It sounded like he had taken them as weak indeed simpletons focused entirely on illegal dealings. If they'd wanted that, they would have got in touch with a Colombian drug cartel-leading Adapted, or dealt with one of the many other shady enterprises in the city. And they did, and often, but that was beside the point. Sadly, many companies that had shown promise had faltered lately. Mondragon labs had boldly led the charge. It seemed like it would be followed shortly by Faust pharmaceuticals, but that was still to be determined. The man wanted Elliott, and... It seemed that really was his entire interest in this conversation.
Megara contemplated this alongside her sisters. It figured. They really had thrown Elliott to the hounds. He'd performed admirably, though. She didn't want to lose him.
Kineta spoke for the group. She seemed to read both sisters minds. Just a side effect of constantly working alongside family, nothing supernatural or mutant at all. "I understand," she said carefully. "Those are good terms. Fair. Of course, Cerberus is completely legitimate. I apologize if something led you to believe that we are not. On that phone's SIM card, you will find information that will be incredibly useful to your business. You've impressed us, Mr. Jaager. Leading a worldwide company that leads the market on mutant goods, with all the contracts you have, and everything else. We expect great things for a visionary like you. With our information, and continued intelligence, we believe that you can really change the world. Make it a better place. If you work with us, you'll find the information we can gather through our research useful. If you ask us to look into a company or an individual, we can do that. If you want stock advice, we can do that. I'm not sure what you speak of when you talk of security breaches."
Megara sipped her drink.
"Everything we do is completely on the level. We are simply good at gathering information. As you will see if you agree to employ our services, from time to time. We will give you the password for the SIM card. I think you'll be impressed. And that's just information given in good faith. It'll work on the cellphone just as easily as in any computer. We don't expect repayment in any kind for the gift." Kineta let that sit for a moment, then continued. "As for Elliott, an internship is fine, but we don't really want to cut ties with him. Good help can be very hard to find. We don't wish to inconvenience you. Perhaps we can make an arrangement that suits both Jaager worldwide and Cerberus, inc.'s needs?"
What she was talking about sounded like some sick form of joint custody to Elliott. He spoke up. "I expect to have some say in this as well, Ma'am." Elliott said briskly. "It being me he wants to employ."
When Elliott had started this day, he had wanted waffles, or maybe pancakes. He had not wanted to make pancakes, but the potential was there. The mansion kitchen had all sorts of kitchen things. It had baking ingredients, it had a stovetop, and... It had cooking implements.
When the wolf man attacked the metal girl, Elliott responded instantly. It was a calm, cool, collected response. They were in a kitchen full of pots and pans. He heard the other girl's comment about incapacitating Tyson, and he was within arms reach of a kitchen cabinet.
He would have liked to kick the man. His kicks were his strongest feature. A couple good kicks, and he would be down. That also left him open to getting his foot torn off by an angry wolf man, and that was a bad option. So.
Elliott drew back the weapon he had pulled out of the kitchen cabinet, and tried to give Tyson a solid whack. The frying pan whooshed through the air towards the side of Tyson's face. If it hit, it would sing the song of its people, and if everything went right, the song would serve as lullaby concussion for Tyson the wolf. If all went wrong, he would follow it up with some kicking, unless things went so south that failed to remain an option.
The odds were pretty good, actually. Unbeknownst to him, she had scattered things to use against her all over the warehouse. Her goal had never been to kill him, or to hurt him. It had been to see what kind of fighter he was. He thought on his feet. That was good. And he liked staffs and sticks, it seemed. She was surprised he hadn't found the sword by the back wall of the warehouse, or e knife hidden under some newspapers. There was a pair of nunchucks hanging off a pipe sticking from the wall, and some sais stuck into the top of a wooden box. A gigantic hammer was actually sixteen feet behind her, balanced on its head and Lea I g against a big sack of concrete. There was a katana in the ports potty outside, if they had taken the battle there. More, too numerous to count, and he hadn't found them. He had found sticks.
Kineta ran at him, aiming that classic thunde punch right down the middle. He swatted at her fist with one stick, and turned it aside with the other Ina sweeping motion, like a fencer. It stung so good! She hopped back a few steps, rubbing her hand. The electricity had died down. She thought he would wait her out. She was wrong.
A running start flowed into a jump kick that she narrowly avoided. It hit a wooden crate the size of a fat man, and sent it scraping loudly across the warehouse floor, straight into a wall. It hit it with a crash of breaking wood.
Elliott landed, turning back toward her. He held up the sticks.
"Escrima," Kineta said loudly, in a 'shut up and stop hitting me' sort of way. Like 'I yield', but with less giving up.
"What?" Was all Elliott could say.
"I can teach you that, if you want." She replied huskily. "Seems like you have an aptitude."
It didn't come to him at first, but the second the light lit the area like a thunder clap, he can't the glint out of the corner of his eye. He rushed towards it, diving into a roll at the last second, and came back up with the metal pipe. It was old, and dusty, but there was a minimum of rust and the weight felt reassuring in his hands. He turned back toward the woman and her lightning fist, and readied the big stick.
She tilted her head at him where he stood bathed in moonlight. Then, she rushed him, fingers grazing the ground as he came it him with her fist low, crackling.
Up, he sprang, ten feet into the air. Down came the pipe. She saw it coming, and turned to grab at it with her electric fist. He realized what was happening a second before it did, and that second saved him. He let go. She caught the pipe. He landed a few feet away, and turned to rush at her back. He drove a fist into the small of her back, then turned to follow it up with a spin kick. She ok the punch, and turned with the pipe in her hands to try and swipe at him with it. The pipe jarred away from her as the kick hit it. It spun through the air, flickering lightly as the electricity up and down e metal dispersed. Shoe rubber saved the day.
Crouching, he sprang at her again. He aimed an elbow jab at her throat. She swept it away, and caught the front of his shirt with her free hand. A knee came up to strike at her and caught her in the arm. He followed it up with gut kick, then launched himself away as her grip came loose. He landed several feet away, on his hands and knees. One hand brushed up against something old and wooden. And what luck. The other did, too. He rose with a pair of wooden sticks in his hands. He held the clubs aloft, waiting for her next move. Wood would insulate better against electricity. He had gotten lucky. What were the odds?
They had practiced normal abdominal breathing. Now, Elliott explained reverse abdominal breathing. In normal abdominal breathing, the diaphragm drops down and the abdomen pushes out. As you exhale, the abdomen withdraws and the diaphragm moves back up to push air out. Reverse abdominal breathing was, well, the reverse of this. The abdomen draws in on the inhale, and pushes out on the exhale. "This breathing style builds qi better, and is the kind we prefer to use for meditation." Elliott explained. He explained how it happened normally, when people laughed or cried, and how it was a very energizing method of breathing.
"All this talk, just to explain good ways to get air." Elliott almost laughed. "The simplest thing, yet so complicated."
He explained a few more things. How meditation can be practiced anywhere, and how it helps you find your center. How forming routines is a good way to improve your meditation time. Setting aside time each day to calm yourself and balance. He talked about calming your mind by focusing on your breathing, and relaxing your body.
"If you get distracted by a thought, just focus on your breathing some more and work to push thoughts away. Release them, and relax. It may take some time and practice to find your center, but it's worth it." He hadn't explained finding the center. Now he did that.
"To find your center, Tyson. Visualize the area you want to find, be it upper or lower Dantian. That area of the body, mind or flesh." He explained how to exhale to find upper Dantian briefly first. It should help to visualize a line, he told Tyson. A line to your center, where you focus your energy. "If you want, you can put your hands over your ears, so the energy doesn't escape." Elliott said.
"Yeah," Elliott replied. He wasn't a mutant. "I'm from space." Moving on.
She yawned and looked around. Decided she should find the headman. Elliott nodded. He wouldn't stop her if she wanted to go off on her own. Then she surprised him with a hug, and asked him to show her to him. He gave an awkward one handed hug back, staring at the wall for help.
"Sure," he agreed weakly. He supposed he could do that. It wasn't like he had anything better, other than sleep. She seemed nice enough, once she wasn't shooting him looks like he was a monster. Actions speak louder than words, he supposed. Though he hadn't said he wasn't a monster.
They weren't far. "It's only a few hallways away. They try to keep the offices closer to the front of the building. Classes are further in." He thought. He could have been wrong. The mansion seemed to change with every description. He blamed the students. "And yep. Another question. But that's okay. You're young. It comes with the territory." He smiled patiently.
The hood had made her seem a little older, in the same way a drowned rat seems older than a live one. Without it, he could tell she was not that old. Teenager, most likely. With a metric ton of questions.
"Follow me," he said, and led the way down an adjoining hall. Like he had said, it wasn't that far. They ran into the headmaster long before they reached the offices, in fact. He had been heading back from the kitchens. He had a very tall sandwich. And a coke. It looked big enough for seven people. Or maybe one really hungry one. He was in his sixties, with white hair in a disorganized mess. Pale and wrinkly, with a hint of German heritage that may have come out in his words or appearance. He had blue eyes, and was just shy of six feet tall. Even though it was late, he still wore his tweed suit and big bow tie. He looked energetic. Wild and ready to roll with anything.
"Oh. Hey. We've met, right?" The headmaster asked Elliott. His attention spun to Victoria before he had finished his thoughts. "One of me must have. I don't remember you, though. My name is Rudolph Kipperling. Ruddy, for short." Not Rummy, like Elliott had thought. He moved to offer her his hand in greeting, and offered her his sandwich instead. "Hello. Do you want to enroll?"
Elliott accepted all the help he could get. He barely noticed he was now being helped by a robot. A passing thought danced by: 'they have robots here too?'
The help was short lived. Tyson growled. Tyson got away. He looked upset. He was upset. Elliott's eyes were mainly on the wound that had reopened though, so when he swore, it was more being upset at that than at any threat of violence for the group. "Dang it, Tyson..."
And after a moment, he added quietly and under his breath. "Meditate."
He was definitely calm though. Frustrated about reopened wounds, but calm. Probably, it was for the best, because knocking Tyson out with a boot to the head seemed counterintuitive to helping him heal from injuries.
Doc Prof tried again to approach the wolf man. He was careful, taking great pains to make every step slow and graceful, and keeping his hands palm up and in view. It wasn't a weak pose of a victim. He tried looking nonthreatening, while at the same time, threatening... Not the type of Doctor you wanted to mess with. And probably, it didn't work out so well. An exercise in complication conflict ions, but it got him closer to the wolf.
He smiled at her comment, jagged teeth and all. Cartwheels, round offs. She knew gymnastics better than him. If they'd been talking about different kinds of kicks and strikes, he'd have floored her with his knowledge. He settled for silent assent.
"Yeah," he agreed. "People spend too much time on their phones and computers these days. I don't see the draw." Technology is amazing, that much is true. Communication is so simple. But Elliott mainly used burner phones and stolen cellphones, and he didn't own a computer. He did not play video games. Any game knowledge he had were from past friends that did, and current friends that do. Cable television costs less and there's usually nothing on, so you have an excuse to go out and work or free run.
She replied to his introduction with a name of her own. Sarah. A nice name. It suited her. He opened his mouth to say 'charmed,' but she kept talking and from out of nowhere asked him to be her model. The open mouth turned into a teasing smile. "I hope you don't take this Titanic quote the wrong way here, but," he put out his hands at his sides in a small flourish and bow. He glanced up at her at the end, smirking lightly, still bent. "Draw me like one of your French girls?" He asked.
He stood back up and awaited a reply to that cheese ball bit of dramatic flair.
Now she laughed? Ugh. He smiled back, but he hadn't even been joking there. "Yep," came the amiable reply.
And nope came her reply about rooms. She had to get back before the sun rose in a couple of hours? Seriously? Why? What. She had drug herself down here in the rain for, what exactly? Information she couldn't get when people at the hotel were around, obviously. Her coach, for example. Hhmmmm, he thought. "Hmmm," he said. Hmmm.
She did something. She said that. He watched her do that. When nothing happened, he blinked his extra pair of eyelids, revealing baby blue eyes for a brief flash. Then they were red. She probably hadn't even noticed, distracted as she was getting whatever it is to work. Finally. She got it.
Bright light. Red dots from looking at it. He hated sudden bright lights.
She was worried someone would find out. He rubbed at his eyes. Ow. "Okay."
She was looking to him for answers, wasn't she? Oh he hoped she wasn't. He couldn't quite tell, with the red dots from sudden bright light. If only his red eyelids had been shades...
The headmaster? "Yeah," Elliott replied. "Probably."
"I'm not sure how you're going to get home, either. Taxi, probably. That was like the last bus for the night I was on. I don't think you need the X-men. You don't have a monster to fight or parking tickets to be paid. But the headmaster can probably answer questions, if he's up. Or one of his brothers. Clones. Whichever. I'm not sure I'd be much help answering questions about being a mutant, since I'm not." Another double blink. "Mutant, that is. Though I have friends who are."
He didn't notice any bleeding lessening. He didn't notice that at all. He was squeezing hard enough to probably do more harm than good. Not a doctor, nope!
Not a face swipe, nope!
Not fair, nope!
He would start making sense any time now. This would require thinking about at a later date, yep. But not today!
He didn't even notice when the person reached the kitchen, which was probably for the best, because if he had looked and seen her gagging, he might have gagged, and that was so unlike him. He did notice when doc prof elbowed him out of the way a couple of moments later. For being an old man, he had kept up with the running I run tank girl pretty well. I guess you don't bet against doc prof when death is on the line. He shouted at Elliott to hold the wolf man still so he could heal him. Elliott tried to oblige, but it probably wouldn't work well. Tyson was stronger than him.
They would see.
Little known fact. Doc prof would see. He would know what caused the wound when he healed it, and he would be mad.
