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.
"You're right," Lenna agreed. It was very cold. He should have been wearing warmer clothing. Ah well. He was here now. He'd paint them. She'd let him worry about catching a cold.
The man noticed them, and Lenna smiled politely. "Yes, please. How much are they?"
"No," She rebuffed him, firmly. Lenna's eyes slid to lock on his face, narrowing in annoyance. They looked a little bit tired. Her glass hung from fingertips as she turned her body his way, careful not to spill a single drop. "You don't want to get on my bad side tonight, trust me. Do yourself a favor and bother someone else."
He pouted. He'd always gotten his way before. What was different this time? He contemplated her, haughtily. "Do you know who I am?"
"An annoyance." Lenna drank her rum, eyes on the wall of the pub rather than Mr. Annoying.
"Hmph!" He looked away... finally noticing the woman on his other side. Perhaps, he'd have more luck with her. Yes, he was haughty, with injured pride, but he was a prideful beast with plenty of ego to go around! And flighty. Yes. He could give reasons for anything. Even attempting to buy another pretty complete stranger a drink. The man held up his jeweled hand and flashed the bartender over to him. "For my friend," he smiled. His eyes swung to mystery woman's face. "Anything she wants."
The bartender nodded, and shifted his focus to the dame.
"Good news," Lenna grinned at her darkly, from out of left field. "I just figured out a way we can completely own Slate."
Pause, step back. The grin slid calmly to a smile. Lenna looked Lori in the eye. "But first, I've got to explain to you some things. Clearly. Because things need being explained." She had no doubt in her mind that Lori just might be mad. If she'd been told something like this on any day of her life, the response would have been murderous.
But. Not. To. Day.
Today was Lenna's full-null Birthday. She was free of Slate's mind-control, and didn't have to listen to any of his immature orders ever again. And... she wanted revenge.
So, yeah. Lenna figured if she gave Lori the right incentive to trust her and believe her, she'd have a good ally. It was a bit of a gamble, but so what? She liked Lori better than that manipulative user, Slate.
Lenna smiled her 'I don't think so' smile, and dug her fingernails into the tendons of her guard's hands. As she did so, she smashed back with the expensive arm chair, driving it with leg power into the guard's chest. The nails held him in place. The blow from the chair knocked his legs out from under him. In his shock and his clumsiness, he let go. Lenna rose on the spot, picked up the Louis XV, and brought it cleanly to the side of his head. Wood splintered. He fell like a birdy hit by a racket lightly, over the edge of the net. One nice arc, and he was done for.
Lenna stalked up to the dinosaur lady, drawing her knife from the strap on her thigh. She pressed it up against Cera's neck, forcing her back to lean over her desk. Lenna didn't glance back to see if Michael had things under control with his guard. She'd taken him out of her aura's range, bearing it down on Cera instead. She trusted Michael would be able to handle himself. The important thing now was that Cera knew she had made a grave error. One that could be made up for, possibly, though probably not.
"Take us to the painting." Her nostrils flared. Lenna glared into Cera's green eyes dangerously. "Now." Her tone made it quite clear there was only one sane answer in the world.
Ever since the last time she'd gone drinking, Lenna had decided to be a bit more careful about the locations she chose as watering holes. Annoying strippers were kind of a big deal, hence, any location she chose strayed from the many key factors she suspected led to stripper infestations.
Bright lights.
Good mixed drinks.
Attractive women that negated powers or drained batteries like they were tall glasses of soda.
What remained were drinking establishments that served hard liquor, hard men, occasionally rich men, and where the drinkers were more likely to listen to a recent football or soccer game than a dull synth bassline.
It seemed that left pubs, and few alternatives. The Pub on 39th was one such locale.
Lenna sat at the bar, drinking a glass of rum. An exceedingly rich-looking man with coiffed hair stepped through the doors, and sat down next to her. Lenna eyed him as he rested his arm on the counter, in his cream-colored sports jacket, cream pants, and blue dress shirt. There were rings on his finger that paled in comparison to the smile he honored her with. Like those glittering gems, he looked... a bit green. Gaudy, bold, created under intense pressure that molded him into what he was today, yet still too pretty to work with just anything. He was polished, luxurious. He had stones. He was talking to her. Lenna ignored him. She looked away.
"No thank you. I won't let you order me a drink. Go away."
His laugh was like the ring of a cash register. He wasn't sold on her rebuff. "Oh, please~" He smiled. "My treat?"
A walk to the bookstore? An excellent idea. Lenna gave a slight nod. "Okay."
The man extended a hand and introduced himself. "Lenna," she met the handshake with her hand. She didn't give him a last name. It was easier that way. The handshake ended. She looked over her shoulder, searching for the best direction to head.
They could cross the street and head a few blocks down. There was a good bookstore there. There was another one slightly nearer, but that wasn't much of a walk. Or... it was kind of getting later in the evening.
"We could always explore the city to find something else?" She suggested, turning back to him casually.
It was another cloudy New York day in Central Park. It wasn't raining, but the air was cold. December was a chilly month in New York city. As such, Lenna had made certain both her and Sveta were bundled up. Lenna wore a heavy brown jacket and a red and blue scarf. She'd given Sveta a scarf, too, of her own choosing. An early Christmas gift.
It wasn't the first time the two women had spent time together. Since the 4th of July, they'd spent a day together, here or there. They got along.
There was not an outstanding crowd out around the park. A few dogwalkers walked the sidewalks. There were a few vendors, selling hot dogs, beverages, and... ice cream. There was even an artist, painting for cash.
Lenna pointed him out to Sveta. "There," she said. "Shall we get a picture made?"
Lenna dumped the remnants of her empty snack boxes into a trash bin on her way out. They hit the sides of the bin with a cardboard bump. Lenna stepped out the entrance, onto the busy city street, and looked around for her fellow ditcher, who hopefully hadn't ditched her. She spotted him, a short ways down the stairs. Lenna caught up, stopping at his side.
"So," She started. "Lots of options. What do you want to spend your ditch time doing? I was thinking, book store. Or maybe, a walk."
The fresh air was nicer than the theater had been. The night sky overhead was dull and calm. A few wisps of cloud hung serenely overhead. Cars passed on the street by the theater. The noise around was distinctly different in nature than the calm of the sky.
Oh, sweet Lord was it bad. Lenna wasn't the type to run from her problems. She wanted to flee this. The acting was sup-par, the sets looked cheap, the plot was a knock-off of a knock-off she'd heard countless times, and the special effects were about as convincing as the acting in an adult movie. Point was, it was just bad.
With a sigh, Lenna glanced to the guy nearby, from her position slumped down in her seat. "Want to ditch?" She asked. The fresh air outside might have been better than the stale plot and acting in here. There were even books.
Somehow, the 'howdy' did it. Lenna bowed her head and laughed. "Hi." Her eyes focused on floor and chest. In her mind, Lenna fretted for something else to say. She came up empty. It was just... whatever it was, Lenna never had a chance to decide. Someone interrupted the 'moment'.
Her eyes rose to focus on him, narrowed. Gone was the pretty smile she'd worn. Replaced was the darkest look under the sun. Michael moved away, but kept an arm around her back. She glared at the guard. Of course, he had had to ruin everything. The rat Michael had borrowed the massive vehicle from must have told Cera everything, in a futile attempt to save his own skin.
Inwardly, she growled. Outwardly, Lenna donned an annoyed smile and a modicum of dignity.
The guard told them to follow. Immediately. The Ranger turned to her.
>>"Well Gorgeous, looks like we get to see the VIP room!" He said.
"You have terrible friends," She smiled back, fake as sucrose, but twice as sweet.
They'd have to teach the guards some manners. For now, though... Lenna followed Michael's lead. It was the best option. If they stayed and a fight broke out, innocent people could get injured, and the painting moved. In order to preserve their slim chance of succeeding in their mission, she let the guard think he had them right where he wanted.
He fell for it, moving behind them. He forced them along, off the dance floor, and down a hall to a waiting elevator. Another guard, hands clasped in front of him, waited patiently to tighten security. The guard shoved them into the car, and entered after them. The doors closed. An index finger depressed the button for a higher floor. It lit up. Up, they went. Straight to Cera's office. She was waiting.
200 lbs of yellow-skinned triceratops-lady in an alluring black dress stood, arms crossed, elbows held, in front of a rich mahogany desk. She smiled confidently at the two of them, as if she had every reason in the world to think she'd won. Green eyes jerked to a pair of French Louis XV Arm Chairs. The guards forced them to sit, holding their shoulders in place.
Neither guard was much for words. Maybe Cera liked that. She seemed to fill the void left by her strong, silent hired help with her own self-importance.
"I see you found your way to my office." She smiled. "Do make yourselves comfortable."
"Kind of hard to do with your guards meaty fingers on my shoulders..." Lenna met her serene green eyes with blue-green fire and an angry grin.
Exactly what she hadn't wanted to hear. Her aura'd kicked itself up a notch. Now she was apparently at that other guy's level. Complete stop. But that meant... her eyes widened a little in recognition. That meant...
That meant that whatever mutant powers came into contact with her mutation ceased, then and there. They didn't work anymore. And if that was true, did the things those powers had done get undone? Did that mean...?
"You're kidding me." She stared at Lori. Suddenly, the pain was startlingly gone. Her mind was clear. If her aura undid things that mutants had done... mental things... would it have undone the mind control Slate had done to her?
And what else did it mean for her? Lori had shocked her, apparently. The back of her neck... oh dear. It no longer had that feeling it always had, that came and went. That nagging throb from the chip under her skin. The chip that couldn't be removed by the best Black Clinics in Paris. The chip that just might have been made using some sort of mutation. It didn't hurt anymore. It had stopped. Was this what 'full null' meant?
Accident? So... Lori had hit her? With what... oh, right. She flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, remembering the sound. Bzzzzzzzzzzt.
So, how had that happened? She probed her memory for a second. She remembered a bar, a rude guy, leaving... nothing else. The back of her arm felt like beef jerky. Lori was still talking. Lenna shoved the mental probe away, and glanced sideways at Lori, from the bed. The angle her neck turned brought on another wave of... something. She couldn't place the word. The unpleasantness was making it hard. "No." Lenna replied, shoving her back up against the wall so she was seated again. She let her focus fall to the white sheets crumpled around her like a burrow. Eyes narrowed as she thought about how she felt. "Like I said... I feel like trash."
>>"On the plus side you're a real boy now. Full null and everything."
Trash that apparently had new stuff to think about. "What the hell is that supposed to mean...?" Lenna looked up at her boss.
Everything turned, turned, turned. The people around her blurred as the room spun. As this happened, Lenna gathered two notable things.
One: He was a good dancer. A very good dancer. Not many men could say that. Some of the men on the dance floor just might have been jealous... and more likely, most of the women.
And Two: Though she didn't usually get dizzy, for some reason at the moment, she was just a bit lightheaded.
This last thing meant that when the Ranger had moved to turn them both, round and round on the dance floor, she'd failed... and stumbled into him, with her hand on his chest. It was a good thing he was sturdy. Otherwise, they'd have tumbled... and that would have been a step down from how things were now. She looked up into his eyes innocently. "Whoops."
The street drug was moving well. The dealers were selling product left and right, all too happy for the chance to work with the people they were. Lori and Lenna had set the groundwork for a beautiful business relationship. With Lenna's knowledge of how these things worked, and Lori's leadership, things were getting done. Lenna had met earlier that morning with Lori to discuss details. And now? Now, she was going home to bask in the glow of a good book... that is, until someone interrupted her exit by saying her name.
"Hm?" Lenna spun on the spot to aim a quizzical look Amber's way. "You need something, kiddo?"
Bzzzt, even in her dreams. The buzz of electricity droned in the background of her mind, like a hive of bees. In her mind, they swarmed, vicious, with shocking stingers, wings blurred arcs of voltage. She slept restlessly, sweated. Her brows drew together now and then. Faint words escaped her lips. 'No,' 'Stop'.
Time passed, and the morning came.
Her eyes crept open to Pollock chaos, splashes of color, and distorted patterns. An abstract world. Her head throbbed as she clutched it, muttering something to herself about the pain. Slowly, order returned to her, and Lenna sat up. She looked around sleepily, eyes narrowed. She grumbled a comment.
"Feels like I was hit by a bitch. ... brick." She corrected herself a second later. Ugh. It hurt bad, bad enough to give her troubles thinking. "The hell happened?" She tilted her head to the side, looking for someone who could clue her in.
