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.
It was— oh god, it was. And the hair, with the thing. The dripping, and the— but how was it flying!? It was like a levitating ball of— mucus dripped from one— and its hair, like noodles floating under the ocean. Its one eye, staring as it just sort of— but no. That was not quite right, was it? Because the eye, the hair— were those? Was it— from each strand of hair, each STALK, she corrected herself, hung a suspended eye. Eight strands of hair, in total. The purple flesh looked orange, to her eyes. But only to her eyes, due to a drawback of a mutation. And it— god. What even was it? A floating snotty eyeball with eight extra eye stalks, and a razor sharp mouth full of teeth. It looked like something out of a psychopath’s best dreams, or worst nightmares. Ugly. So ugly. It was really—
“Hola chica, muy bien.” A random stranger cut into her horrified reverie. She turned and stared at him, as if he were the thing she had previously been staring at. Like she were dissecting its very existence. It took a moment for her to shake her head and clear it of the mental scar. When she did, she apologized.
”I am sorry, I did not mean to stare at you. It is just—“ She thrust her hand in the direction of— it. The thing. The thingy. ”That. I do not know— it just... what?”
She could hardly process it. But if she stopped to actually think and process things, it had probably been created by something she had been forced to fight a few times. Magic.
Some mystic or mutant had played too much dungeons and dragons, and created the beauty the two of them now saw.
But beauty, you ask? You said it was ugly!!
Yes. But beauty is in the eye... of the Beholder.
DOOM
((Google that stuff))
It was not doing anything yet, though. Just hovering, menacingly. Like a psychopath.
”One. We call your family on my cellphone and see if they have anything to add to your narrative.” She rattled off the options.
”Two, we go to the mansion. Xavier’s Sister school. It is a place for mutants. Someone there might be able to help you. Three, we talk more. Tell me, what year is it for you?”
The young girl might not trust her. That was why she had given several options. There were more things they could do, but listing everything and anything would surely overwhelm her.
There were many unknowns in the situation. Many questions she could have asked. But the year? If the girl thought it was a different year than it actually was, it would narrow down the possibilities.
Two words. Prove it. Enough to make a young girl cry.
Maybe if she had been asked to do such a feat in a year or so, when she had practiced further, such things would be trivial. But currently...
Lenna did not roll her eyes. They hardened for a moment as she focused on Abby’s face, but she did not roll them. She treated the young girl with respect.
”My power is hard to explain and use... you see, right now, it is a little bit broken.” Her Colombian flair made words come out with rolled rs and extended ee sounds, such that little became leetle.
Lenna explained. ”Recently, a mutant attacked me. They made me change, from an adult into a child. They have been going around doing that. My boyfriend can read memories on objects so he saw the whole thing. Showed it to me, too. But for my power... makes me see everything orange. It is the power to move things with my mind, but right now it wants to move the entire world... Everything... which makes the strength with which I am able to influence things far more limited. Strength divided is weaker than strength, undivided.” She smiled weakly at Abby.
”Mainly, I tell people I have luck. Because I use telekinesis, sort of subconsciously, to shift things in my favor. Nudge punches off course, adjust the aim of someone with a gun so they miss me. Very useful when it works. But hard. Hard to display in a drafty alley in the middle of the afternoon in a bad area of New York.”
Not one to change an uncomfortable subject or anything, Lenna changed the subject. ”Your clothes do not fit. When I first was deaged, my clothes did not fit. Tell me, do you remember the last day?”
”That is okay.” Lenna said. She knew plenty of bad people. She had even been one. Could still be, if she so desired.
She saw nothing wrong with the girl, other than scaly skin. Something maybe moisturizer might fix. Or else, could it be— was she saying—?
”Ah. I see what you are trying to elucidate. You think because you are a mutant, you are bad. This opinion is profoundly wrong. You cannot be bad, simply because you are a certain way. Though some people always like to think you can... dullards.” She rolled her eyes.
”So, I stopped some criminal who had some link to a site on this thing called the “dark web,” but I am still new to this so I asked the first person I saw, and—“
Lenna gestured at the man with she had found. As she recalled, his head had practically spun at the intrigue of it all. Some simply enjoy theater.
”He explained it. We went and checked it out at a “net cafe,” whatever that is, and saw that the man had been true to his word. My friend was listed on the site.”
She had found the criminal and interrogated him, regarding her friend Aura. Cold Steel would simply have to be “Mister Cool” about who she was friends with, and who needed their help. It wasn’t only about Aura.
”There was an island, mutant-on-mutant fighting, gambling. Invite-only. There was a mentioned date. The date of the next dark tournament. I have checked the coordinates and the island is a mostly forested piece of land off the coast of Canada called “Hanging Neck island.” Hard to find if I had not had coordinates. Likely heavily secured.” She nodded to herself.
”Many mutants were listed. Several have been reported missing in recent months. My friend was kidnapped by magic assholes. We do not like them. They tried to kidnap me and several other children, as well. I have been searching for them to rescue my friend for several months. Now I have a lead. I am not sure how they are controlling the mutants to keep them in line. My friend would never have let them control her, if she had her own will. She is willful. Maybe the Sailor Moon tiaras they wear hold some sort of magic spell?”
She paused a moment, thoughtful look on her face. Yes. She had experimented with some anime now. Sailor moon was one she liked, for some reason. Maybe it was the team of kickass girls, kicking ass.
”The big ad I saw when we checked depicted my friend brutally and silently murdering her mutant opponent. For no reason. It screams mind control to me. Without reason, Aura would never murder a fellow mutant, Sam.” She met his orange eyes, hoping that the ice mutant would understand.
”Aura has a complicated past, but she is not a brazen murderer. And she values other mutants too highly. She finds them beautiful. She would not kill blindly unless her life was actively in danger and they forced her hand... or if she was given an order by someone with power over her. But um, I do not think it is that! So...”
She looked to Sam. She looked to Zek. Back to Sam. ”Someone told me you people have an airplane? Can we borrow it? Barring that, will you please help?”
Note: in none of the conversations she had taken part in with Zek, had she or him ever discussed him actually helping storm a heavily fortified island to rescue mutants from wizards and mutants under mystical sway. She had merely asked him to back her up as she explained the situation to Cold Steel, and also to help explain if she stumbled over her words. Which it seemed she had not.
It was odd. He had been very into the drama of it all, and seemed familiar with Sam. He might have even been eager to speak with him? She had no clue. Reading people was something she was more used to, when she was actively fighting them. Not for social encounters. They had never gotten to train her for that. So maybe she had no clue whether or not it was good form to include him in something so zany and out of control??? Would he be mad? Who knows?! Not her!
”Alone?” Lenna attempted to finish her thought for her. ”Scared? It is okay. I know how that feels.”
She tried a smile. She was getting better at this thing. It almost just looked natural.
”Tell me your tale. I will listen.” Lenna suggested politely.
In her experience, that was how it worked best. At least, with her and her problems. She had attempted to keep things in a bottle under pressure until things got liable to explode, but had quickly realized... it is better to let things out. To share. It helped when you had good friends.
Blood loss in a bathroom stall A southern girl with a scarlet drawl Wave goodbye to ma and pa 'Cause with the birds I'll share
With the birds I'll share this lonely viewin'
Music streamed from her ear pods as Lenna walked down the street. For the moment, she was in a good mood. The day was going well. Most things were right in the world, some things still sucked. But they would soon fix those, she was certain. And she had just eaten a good lunch. Things were good... up until some hooligan in a white tank top and baggy black basketball shorts brushed past her and stole her purse.
She noticed right away. Felt the lessening of the weight, and saw him running away. For once in a New York minute, he was unable to vanish into the milling crowd. He was visible, clear as day.
Lenna did not shout anything. No “HEY YOU!” Or “STOP! THIEF!” She merely broke into the fastest sprint of which she was able. Unassisted, it was pretty damn fast. Some day she would experiment with assisting her pace with her telekinesis. For now, she just ran. And hoped luck would be on her side.
Someone or something bumped a trash can into his path. He hit it, and stumbled. Trash flew everywhere. Very rich, robust aromas of curry and week old Chinese food mixed with ketchup in the air. He shoved off the ground from one knee, and regained his footing. But now, he could not book it the way he had and expect to escape. She had closed the distance. So, when he could, he cut a corner, into the nearest alley.
He stopped. In his path was a strange-looking young girl in an oversized dress. She was about 20 feet ahead of him, but the oddity of it all caught him and stopped him dead. The purse dangled from one arm.
The man may have been a mugger, a pickpocket and a thief. But he wasn’t wholly horrible. He had a conscience. The girl looked scared. Alone. Where were her parents? She was very alone. He knew the feeling. When he’d been her age, his parents had ghosted him. He’d had to fend for himself in the big city. Him and his friends.
Just as he opened his mouth, in an attempt to say something, he felt a tug at his arm. The arm the purse had dangled from. He lost his grip, and spun just in time to see the woman he had taken it from hauling it back to her person. And she was— whew.
If a rainbow could dress up as a person, it would have personified her. Red and black sneakers, orange short sleeved top, yellow socks, and a light blue athletic jacket, and black shorts with a green stripe up each side. It was like she had gotten dressed in the dark.
The mugger let his arms drop loose and gave up. Lost cause.
“I’m lucky you didn’t throw a brick at my head...” he muttered.
”I thought of it. But I tried diplomacy. Leave now?” She said.
Her voice was heavy into the Colombian range, like Shakira or something. He stared at her.
“Yeah. Okay. You win. It’s yours.”
She looked at him in such a way that he took it to mean, ‘well, yes. That is the point. Thief.’
He coughed into a fist, then gestured over his shoulder at the crying girl. “If you can, help her? Call the cops or something? I think someone just dumped her there... maybe parents.” Maybe kidnappers, he left unsaid. He hesitated a moment, then sighed and massaged his forehead. “Not that you... owe me any favors. Just... I got nowhere to take her. Can’t even help myself.”
Lenna eyed the young girl in the not too far distance. She waved over one shoulder. ”Leave. I will handle this.”
He left.
Lenna approached slowly and carefully, so as to avoid spooking her. When she was within ten feet, she said ”Hello. I am sorry for that. He stole my purse.” she explained. ”My name is Lenna.”
She smiled and vocalized what she had previously been thinking. ”People that do dramatic flourishes get shot. Ask Indiana Jones.”
Yes, he had entirely missed her second throw. But she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, clearly he had many things on his mind. As she had no idea what a big top was, Lenna let that one slide by her unremarked.
Rather than call the knife back, she strode forward to grab it again. She was unwilling to put her life on such an untested area of her power. Mentally pulling a blade towards ones self is a fantastic way to die.
Lenna turned and held the knife out for Carrick. She said his name after a moment, to get his attention.
Squirrels, really?
”If doing tricks helps you concentrate feel free to try and do something cool with the knife before you throw it. You have been warned though. I’ve known people who died because they grew overconfident. Maybe you can toss it at a squirrel.”
She was not serious? Or was she?
”Flight might also give you a unique perspective.”
>> "I can even cook for ya. I tend to faver exotic meats, a hobby of mine has always been trying to eat one of every animal i can get. The zoo is prolbely rather happy i ran thrue their supply in the first five years i was here. "
Yes. They probably were.
Well. As long as she did not make her eagle or something... the more legal exotic foods were probably okay. Lenna had not really been to any zoos, so her frame of reference there was weak. Weak enough what might have caused someone else to take a step back and revaluate only made her pause for a moment, and then move on.
”And I can cook, too.” She agreed.
She was quiet a moment, then suggested they write down and exchange numbers. She could not recall if she had already done that or not? Once they had set up a suitably discrete way to contact each other, Lenna nodded.
”Good.” She said, and turned to leave. ”I will be seeing you.”
Okay. It was pretty close to her form. But imitating and actually doing are two separate things. Time would tell if he actually had proper form down. If he had the balance.
>> ”Extra? No need fer it. Pointy end goes inta yer target right?” He said.
She nodded briefly. This was the general principle, yes.
Lenna crossed her arms at his flashy display. She was not amused. Foolish showmanship was an excellent way to end up badly injured, or worse. In addition to Star Wars, she enjoyed another Harrison Ford movie franchise. Had he not simply shot a swordsman who had attempted to show off? Yes. He had.
The knife throw missed, and by a wide margin. She did not say anything catty. Merely acknowledged his comment.
”Practice makes perfect. You will get it eventually. Here. Let me try...” Her hand went up in an open-palmed gesture, and her brow furrowed. ”... Something.”
She had been practicing with her powers. Her control still ebbed and flowed, like the tide. Except less regularly. Sometimes, her focus was good. Other times, she was not so good.
In her mind, Lenna imagined the orange of her world condensing down to the body of the knife, as if it were held within a form-fitting bubble. Then, she jerked her hand and really put some force into it. The knife flipped through the air, to stick in the tree.
Lenna wiped a bead of perspiration from her brow, and looked at him, mouth sagging in a cocky half smile. Then, she dismissed the smile and went to retrieve her knife using simple manpower.
Lenna displayed her usual form and threw the knife using utterly human means. It stuck. It stuck in the exact same location.
”Like that.” She said. Hopefully he had been paying attention to her form, rather than her form. Some boys preferred one over the other. To them, a pretty face and a well-turned calf were far more intriguing than a good, well-practiced kata. Was he of one world, or the other?
That was about when the intergalactic being struck. He was seven stories tall, which seemed a bit short for an intergalactic destroyer of worlds. Ten would have been more the norm. His helmet was shaped like a bucket with a horseshoe on top, and if his coloration was any indication, either he was royalty or else he really liked purple hues. She would not have know he were purple, if not for audience participation.
“Wow! So purple!”
“Big purp!”
“What a pimp!!”
And so on.
He did not laugh maniacally, big purp. He merely raised his hands, and hundreds of tons of metal floated through the air to land atop to city skyscraper on which he stood. They assembled themselves into a much larger machine. What the machine was intended to do, Lenna had no idea. She watched in rapt fascination.
There were four people facing off against this giant of a man. Four people, and some person with a big head. The big head man also wore a toga.
Lenna thought to herself, This is really good.
Suddenly, from off-screen, a silver man on an ironing board blurred in. He spoke some words to the giant, and then fired orange rays. Hadn’t he been on the giant’s side just last act? She chewed on her popcorn. Yeah. This movie was good.
—
Some time later, Lenna walked out of the theater. Behind her on the marquis, various titles were listed. Quintessential Quartet, King Gorilla vs Lizard God, Keanu Wick 7, Mang Kepwang, and a few others were listed. Looked like that widow woman film about the Russian spy had finally come out. Neat. As for her opinion on the movie she had finished... better than new Star Wars, worse than old. She had quite liked when Chris evans character had blazed through time and space to get the device. The budget for that scene had to have been astronomical. All those dying suns and exploding nebulae, all to showcase his ass. To make him look good. Okay, so maybe she rated it higher than she had thought... the film, that was.
She still remembered the scene where the science man had stretched out his hand, holding the device. Had forced the villain into surrender. Such power. Lenna idly wondered what she would have done with such power.
She pulled the collar of her new leather jacket up around her neck, and hunkered down against a sudden cold wind. The jacket had been a present for her “birthday.” Or at least, the birthday she had found on her official ‘Her’ driver license. Not the less official ‘Her’ license with the blonde version of her own face. The changed one, that went by Ivy. No, this license has been found upon further digging in the old, now abandoned, apartment of her former self. She had never really celebrated or known her real birthday, under Cortez. Her aunt’s data for this world’s Lenna, her actual niece, had confirmed it. Judging from appearance and what she knew of her own general age, they had placed her at 17, now 18... and reset the birth year to around 2003. For official identification purposes, once they sorted that with the state and she finished drivers ed. Auntie would help. To grease the wheel, as it were.
Apparently, the government had forms now for those who had regressed in age permanently, as well as those from other worlds past the rift. They had already started those processes, gotten those wheels rolling. In order to clear her of any connections to this worlds version of herself, as far as any outstanding warrants or connections to criminal enterprises (or debt) were concerned... while at the same time, leaving a clear path for her to recover any inheritance that version may have claimed. She thanked her aunt for the lawyers each and every day. Without them, she would have remained a ghost. It certainly made things simpler, so far as her entire life was concerned. She still needed to contact SUPER for her personal files... simply out of morbid curiosity.
What did they have on her? And on her other self? It was all too complicated to dwell upon, so she walked and returned her mind to the movie. It was a little after 1:39 on a Sunday. She had caught an early showing. What would she see next? Her mind reeled at the possibilities. Whatever she had thought she might see, however, it had never been THAT!
She brushed aside a few strands of her short, shoulder length brown hair that had blown over her eyes, and looked up towards It.
”What the hell is that?” Lenna muttered, Colombian accent thick.
>> "We really don't but to be honest. The battlefield tends to numb you to those feelings, discard whatever feelings don't help at the time. How does one ask for help before they know just how damaged they are?"
Lenna was silent for a brief period, after which she stated: ”I do not know.”
This response felt inadequate. They both needed help. But this was new for the both of them, the actually contemplating how one would go about getting it. If she had been more well-versed in reality, and the realities of war veterans and soldiers dealing with post traumatic stress as well as all the other mental health issues they face from day to day... she may have had something to say. Or less. Often, they also received inadequate help. Which was very sad.
Aura continued to speak.
>> "The real scary part if I'm a mom. Until a few months ago my girlfriend mostly raised the kid, I had been searching for a battlefield to die on for years, but something in that kid's eyes demand i stay. Sorry, i'm sure this is not really the kinda thing you wanna talk about"
Lenna squeezed her tighter in the embrace, just to let her know she cared. Got it. Somewhat.
”I will listen.” Lenna insisted.
>> "Kinda funny don't you think? Two weapons of mass destruction feel awkward over what humans do as habit. Really though, i think i need friends like you, people i can talk with i mean.”
They released the hug, somewhat awkwardly. Yes. It was true. This stuff basic humans did as matter of course was wholly out of both their comfort zones. Beyond the pale of what they were used to. That needed to stop.
Lenna cleared her throat. ”Um. Yes. We do. Both need good friends. I think. I think talking is an important thing.” Lenna took a step back, resting a hand against her chin in a thoughtful pose, head bowed. She turned slightly away, in contemplation. ”I believe that may be what soldiers do. When they return from war. Get together. In groups, or just with a friend... and deal with their issues.” She said it like ‘iss seeeyouuus.’ Like someone who had taught her the word had worn a British accent. Maybe learned English as a second language from someone from Europe. Or something. Sounded weird coming off the end of words very heavily flavored with a Colombian accent.
”I mean... it would make sense. Maybe we can meet. Once a week or something? And eat lunch and talk as friends? Does that seem amenable to you?”
Lenna looked to the other woman expectantly. This was how she handled many relationships with her friends, such as Megan. Skye. When everyone was not busy.
”Generally, I throw them at targets. Outside or inside. We have no targets. Trees will have to do. If you can hit a tree.” Lenna gave him a small wintry smile.
Once they had found a good one, she spent several minutes explaining how to hold the knife, as well as how best to throw it. Teaching is a great way to learn about a subject, one’s self. So as she spoke, she also spoke of blade weight and balance and how throwing knives were often different from knives for anything else.
”If given time and inclination,” She stated at one point. ”I could go on and on about all the various types of blades. Of course, such a thing would be, as they say it these days, “Extra.” Yes.” She nodded to herself. Extra.
When she felt he had listened long enough, if not well enough, she gave him one of her throwing blades and gestured to the nearest tree. She took two massive steps way back. She gave him the go ahead gesture.
In French, Lenna replied ”Finishing school.” She did not elaborate on when or where.
She left the when and where Mysterious. There was a time and a place for talk of such things. It was not there and then.
—
She finished her explanation, and was told her orange situation would not be an issue. Very well. She gave a curt nod.
The man said something to the lady. He was quiet about it, so she did not pay it much attention. Why pry into it if they wished her to not hear? If it was of import, they would bring it to her attention. Instead, she let them have their private conversation as they walked. She entered the room.
Hands on?
”Very well.” Lenna said. ”I am ready when’re you say go.” She stated. Her bag hit the floor with a thump. Lenna bent to begin strapping on holsters and knives. All told, there were two handguns and three knives. A knife sheath on each thigh, a shoulder holster, one on her hip, and a knife sheath strapped to her left forearm. All over her nice suit. She really ought to have brought a tactical vest or something.
He made a joke that lessened her comment of moving things with her mind, by using similar language to imply waving his hand was the same thing. The same thing as moving an object solely through mental manipulation. He was a cheeky bird boy, was he not?
She matched his smug grin, and crossed her arms over her chest.
”I do not think so, no.” She replied to his question about the danger room. She was not going there. And she was not smuggling him in. He clearly wished for that. To tag along.
”Heh. Students. Would you like to learn Krav Maga, or how to throw knives? I would gladly take students. For the moment, I will pass on the flying training however. I thank you for the offer.”
It was possible he could teach her of wind resistance, or a great many things that dealt with flight. But at the moment, her flight was a pipe dream, and far too different from his own. She felt he was of a similar mind, and having a jab at her expense. Was she doing the same, regarding the offer to train him in martial arts? No.
No, it would be a fun thing to teach him such things. Plenty of reasons to let him fall on the ground. He might even learn something. Like how to fall properly.
