☩Museum of Ancient Cultures and the Occult (Location/Secret Society Thread)☩

The Museum of Ancient Cultures and the Occult

Founded during the 1800’s, the Museum of Ancient Cultures and the Occult was built in Scotland at an intersection of ley lines and is currently owned by Gregory Rėza. It is a massive museum built in exquisite Gothic style with book collections and ancient artifacts collected from all over the world. It houses what is possibly the largest public library of magical lore, the content spanning millennia. Various lectures are sponsored by the museum, the elite of the academic community brought in to speak on their arcane areas of expertise. The majority of the museum and its features are open to the general public during open hours. MACO is happy to share resources with other magical communities and hopes to bridge the gap between various mystical fraternities in the pursuit of knowledge and protection of ancient ideas and objects.

Gallery

Beneath the museum is a labyrinth of crypts accessible only to those with permission of the staff, the doors mystically warded by runes to avoid both detection and unauthorized entrance. This area is for those of the undead legions throughout the planet: vampires, ghosts, ghouls, zombies, riches, etc. once they are inducted into the Brotherhood of the Luna Sanguinem. Various alters can be found in the furthest reaches of the crypts as well as blood portals set in place by Rėza to allow for easier transport to various other graveyards or mausoleums around the world.

Gallery

The Brotherhood of the Luna Sanguinem

Luna Sanguinem translates to “Blood Moon” from Latin, a term chosen for the clandestine meetings and practices during lunar eclipses. It is a community of those termed by the living as “Undead.”* It serves to provide education and aid to its members while also proposing loose guidelines for its inductees. The Disciplinis Arcanum Mortis (Disciplines of the Arcane) is a text that outlines the guidelines expected of the members of the brotherhood. Examples pertaining to each type of undead entity are as follows:

Liches—No necromancer who has achieved lichdom should write his methods of achieving such a status. The station is sacred and only for the most advanced and dedicated of the necromantic arts.

Vampires—Vampires should only bequeath their gift of immortality to those worthy. Lesser vampires will be purged as they are expected to hold a level of authority amongst the undead. Any weaker vampire must be taken on by an older, respected vampire to avoid such a fate.

Ghouls—A ghoul’s primary allegiance must always be to his creator. Should a ghoul deviate from this mandate, he may lose his corporal form as punishment and be forever outside the realm of influence.

Zombies—Should a zombie gain the independent sentience of the former classes, he should abide by rules similar to those of the vampire.

Miscellaneous Precepts—The undead should remain within the fringes of living understanding. The full secrets and understanding of the undead brotherhood must never be disclosed to lay persons. Attention should be avoided as often as possible. It is in the shadows we thrive. Avoid interactions with heaven or hell lest either claim body, spirit, soul or other aspects of undead presentation.

*“It is out of the lore and experience of the ancients and of all those who have studied the powers of the UnDead. When they become such, there comes with the change the curse of immortality. They cannot die, but must go on age after age adding new victims and multiply-ing the evils of the world. For all that die from the preying of the Undead become themselves Undead, and prey on their kind. And so the circle goes on ever widening, like as the ripples from a stone thrown in the water…”

— Van Helsing, Dr. Steward's Diary, 29 September; Dracula, Chapter 16

• Input and suggestions for the thread or canon are welcome.
• No major destruction of the museum unless agreed upon OOC.
• Sell magical wards and defenses.
• Feel free to create undead alts for the Halloween season and have fun!
• Any questions can be directed to me or my alts. @the_psyentist

This is my jam right here. I'll make sure to drop a post this morning!

Very nice, we shall have many advantages if we proceed to work together ;)

I love this.

Niiiice.

@satar: @_dirge_:Thank you very much!

Look forward to it!

We shall see if the advantages out weight the drawbacks in regards to your repulsive profiteering of the sacred art of necromancy.

Always loved the museum vibe. Great concept and location.

@ali_sani_bashir: Danke.

@the_psyentist:

Out of a blood portal came Benny. Stumbling out with sunglasses resting on his skull and a bottle of Jack in the other. "Guuuuugh. That party was off the chain! There was literally chains!" He exclaimed with his rattling jaw, pouring more booze down his hallow body. "Wait wait.... This ain't my friggin' room! Not even close. It's all....Shiny and shit.." The skeleton wandered the crypt for a while, chucking the shades in a corner, keeping the bottle for hair of the dog. "Hello? Is anybody out there?.... Just nod if you can hear me?"

@benny_bones: The ancient lich stepped from the shadows as the rattling voice rambled on. In the crypts, Gregory did not retain his glamour to disguise his true form. The dim glow of torchlight shone through his transparent flesh, engulfed by the darkness of his skeletal eye sockets from which there stared two ominous red eyes. His English accent echoed through the stone halls. "You don't seem to be one of my resurrections. Quite... lively for a skeleton." His cane tapped upon the ground as he stepped forward. "And who are you?"

@rezurrection:

Still drunk somehow, Benny stumbled back at the sudden arrival of this stranger. "Wuh! Woah. Rattle my f?ckin' bones why don't you!?" He exclaimed with a Canadian accent, pointing around randomly. "I'm Benny. Who the hell are you?" Benny inquired, still in a state of confusion, This wasn't his home, his pad. Why should he care about some voice in the dark?

@benny_bones:

Rez arched a brow over his pallid flesh. "I am the Rezurrection. And this is the secret crypt beneath my museum that you stumbled into." The lich's vermillion orbs surveyed the set of bones. "Benny. Hm. You very nearly seem drunk. How is that, I wonder? What sort of magic brought you back from the grave?"

@rezurrection:

"Wow, name's must have been out that year..." Benny swung his skeletal arm. "I fell into a crypt...Just like this one. Air was tight, so I suffocated and died..." The bones explained taking another swig of the bottle. "Lemme guess. Some Dread lord with necromancy, trying to show that the "supernatural" will reign supreme? Heard it, haven't seen it" Benny chucked the now empty bottle in the dark..

@benny_bones:

Rėza was hardly impressed by the flippant, young skeleton before him. "My living name was Gregory Rėza. And yes. I am a necromancer, but not only a mere raiser of the dead. I am a lich, and I have been around centuries before your fragile frame was even a concept in your unfortunate mother's mind." He waved off the undead pest. "Reign supreme? I am quite comfortable where I am. My power grows undetected by the mortals above. That is their world, a world of chance and need. You do not appreciate your station nor give your status the respect it deserves. You have stumbled upon the gift of immortality. The undead are greater than other supernatural entities. We have transcended our existence to become more. But I'm sure my discourse is lost on a creature who's brain rotted away long ago." He grunted disdainfully.

@rezurrection:

"You don't think I love what's going on for me right now?" Benny retorted, a chuckle in his tone. "I died young...But was given another chance to do what I want, however I want. It's a gift for sure..." He spoke in a cliché Transylvanian voice. "I've heard this speech before. The whole "We are super awesome, but hide" and all that shit..." Benny spoke from truth, a Liche living in his own Crypt talking the very same ideal. "What makes you so special....?"

@benny_bones:

"What makes ME special?" His gaze darkened. "I have studied the dark arts for centuries. I can raise an army of things like you. It was I who made the blood portal you tumbled through to enter into this area. I inlaid the walls of this place to prevent the living from breaching this grim sanctuary."

Rez stroked his chin thoughtfully with his pale fingers. "Do... whatever you want? Such desire among the undead is rare in my experience. The ambitions and lusts of the flesh usually fall away after death. I can no longer enjoy the bouquet of a fine wine even as I need for nothing. There is no reward for passions in most creatures here, the vampires being perhaps the most driven. Blood still remains within them and with it their heart's need. But you... you drink. You crave. You seem to experience existence as the living with all the cerebral composure of higher undead entities. It can't be mere chance that you were gifted so."

@rezurrection:

Benny almost felt bad for the soul. Though his face could not express, it would be one of pity. "Dude, you need to embrace this shit... Like, you can't die, what's stoppin' ya from partying down like it's 52?" Benny asked, generally perplexed by the Liche's sorrow. "I can show you how to live it up dude. How to experience life on the cool side... If ya wanted..."

@benny_bones:

The master necromancer's brow furrowed. He couldn't feel much in the way of sorrow, his soul having been severed and bound to an external phylactery to prolong his existence. "You seem to confuse my inability to feel properly with my is naivety for what it is to experience life. One does not become inducted into the occult without being saturated with the amount of depravity it promises. Though the taste of wine could as easily be like that of ash, it does not change it's value and image within this world. There at least, I can have the cerebral pleasure of knowing I can and do have it all while others who desire it find it elusive." A wry smile crept across his sinister face as he thought about all the people who pledged their service to him in exchange for everlasting existence. Not in the least his bastard brother's wife. There were some cruel pleasures even a lich could still appreciate.

@rezurrection: I may have a donation.

>:)

Dope ASF

may bring EZ here

Forgot I had this alt

I shall join soon. no worries my friends.

- Wheatley

Good way for me to bring Cerberus back...

@joey_destroyer_of_worlds: @nighthunder: @soul-smith: @necrommander: That's what I like to hear.

Ooh, well this is neat!

I should find an excuse sometime...

@arquitenens: Maybe I should throw a Halloween party or something. LOL Free candy?

@rezurrection: Excuse found.

Will be PMing you...sometime. I dunno. Guess I could bump the other one when I get back from class. Remind me to remember the idea. If I forget, my trigger phrase is "remember the rage," so say that and I'll remember.

@arquitenens: Woot!

@rezurrection:

The meeting was to take place absolutely nowhere, the location so remote and uninhabited that it was only ever visited by the hopelessly lost. How fitting, mused the cloaked figure that awaited by long-disused remnants of a road, features concealed by a voluminous, dark cloak. There are none so hopelessly lost as we. Then again, most souls were lost; all that made the individuals who had selected this inhospitable locale as a place of business different was that they were fully aware of just how lost they were. In fact, they embraced this. Reveled in it, even.

He had been here for several hours already, and had spent that time as still as a statue, as unmoving as any permanent fixture of the bleak landscape that surrounded him. He would remain so for many more hours, or even days, if it proved necessary; time was not the precious commodity to him that it was to so many others. This business was of the nature that any wait was meaningless; it could very well have a profound effect upon the structures of power in this world, and far beyond.

He was the Necrommander, a lich, an undead thing. When blood had still flowed in his now-withered veins, it was of mixed human and dark elven heritage. He had passed beyond the Veil of the Fae, and traveled to worlds unknown to modern science. He had witness countless unspeakable horrors, and had committed many of his own besides, all for the purpose of gaining power. This errand was no different; it was a calculated maneuver designed to further his own inscrutable aims, and if they happened to benefit other, equally dark souls, well, so be it.

@necrommander: Holy crap. Four days?! D: I'll get to this soon.

@the_psyentist: Relax, he's not going anywhere; he's dead! ;P

@inner_demon: BAHAHA. xD

@necrommander:

(Beautiful post. Of course, I expected no less!)

Static built up in the surrounding air, the smell of ozone circulating around the approaching shadows. A feeling of dread among mortals would have been inevitable as the two undead glided effortlessly forward along the dark road. Evidence of their approach was heralded by the subtle ticks of a walking stick upon the ground. It's wielder was an undead man, a lich, by the name of Gregory Rėza. But those privy to his necromantic dealings knew him by another name: Rezurrection. His pallid face hung transparently over his animated skull, the dark recesses of his eye sockets lit with the red, arcane fire of his eyes.

Upon his arm was his ghostly companion, the matriarch of the House of Q, Angelique Quentin. Her own eyes flickered and flashed like electricity but retained an almost palpable emotion of mournfulness. It was her vanity that drove her to accept Rezurrection's gift of immortality, and it was this same pride that kept her bound to this Earth. As a spectre, the only person who could really ever make her feel more than the intangible essence of beauty she was happened to be the devil who lured her to her incorporeal form, her soul forever devoted to him. She watched the proceedings with cold indifference.

Rez swept himself into a courteous bow, his finely tailored suit rustling about him. The vestige of a smile was ever upon his skeletal face, but this time the glimmer of his eyes and the pull of his clear skin denoted a kind of pleasure. Words could easily descend into the realm of the unnecessary, and so he remained brief in his introduction, allowing the magnificent necromantic specimen before him to allow for further dialogue. "Hello, sir. I am Gregory Rėza, and it is a unique pleasure to make your acquaintance."

@rezurrection: (^_^)

"The pleasure is all mine, Gregory," the Necrommander bowed deeply in a show of respect for his fellow necromancer, one of the many benefits of his undead state being that stiffness of muscles and joints was a long-faded memory. "I am known as Cy'ian in the tongue of my mother's people." He was glad that his recent excursion beyond the Veil that separated the human and Fae worlds had given him occasion to use one of his native languages.

The appearance of Rezurrection did not disappoint, and neither did that of his unexpected companion. Cy'ian found himself thankful that his own carnal nature had departed with his mortal perspective on physical pain; the temptress was no doubt fully capable of using her unearthly beauty to bend the will of others to her own, whatever other abilities she might possess. "I thank you for agreeing to meet with me, and must ask that you excuse my lack of familiarity. Although I am off this world, I have spent much of my existence away from it, and am just now reacquainting myself with the extant power structures. That being said, you enjoy no small reputation among those of the Deathless Arts, and I wished to to make a significant contribution to your auspicious museum."

@necrommander: Woot. A reply! I'll get to this when I can sit down and think up a decent post.

It purred ever so seductively, the perfectly engineered v12 engine of Rolls-Royce's 2015 Phantom, as it reduced its aggravated aggression outside the MACO. A playground for the connoisseurs of the occult and mystic mysteries. A place where the supernatural was to be respected, researched, and understood. Its Romanesque style, illustrated with massive pillars and groin vaults, was a spectacular vision of architectural inspiration from the medieval era. And yet its surface beauty and scholastic accreditation were but a fraction of its more clandestine prestige.

Theo immediately sensed the pheromones of the paranormal, as he stepped out from the luxury vehicle. Pulling the wool collar of his seasonal apparel tight around his body, inadvertently covering a collar of a more distinguished nature, the Vatican Assassin promptly made his way inside. Preemptively sequestered in his purpose, the cleric fluently swayed through the arenas of art and literature; sculptures and displayed artifacts. Until finally coming upon a modern painting of no substantial value and a piece of un-sculpted clay housed inside a glass case. A small folded piece of stationary rested alongside the display with a myriad of trivial factoids, dates, and a name: "Fionn Mac Cumhaill"

With a grin of celebratory achievement, Theo sighed in relief,

"Finally...."

@the_vatican_assassin: I gotta ask, is that coincidence or did you read?

I read (researched) after you told me in the pm

Oh, now it's a party.

@necrommander:

"Cy'ian. An otherworldly name of ancient origins unless I am mistaken." A decidedly cold stare from the former model fell upon Rez, her hair crackling like electricity to express her disapproval of the human lich's conduct. "Hm?" Gregory felt a jolt of electricity pass through him into the ground though experienced no tangible pain, his vermillion orbs traveling to his partner. "I am sorry, my dear." He grinned back at the half-elf monstrosity. "My apologies, Cy'ian. This is my companion, Angelique." The woman smiled slightly, her white hair smoothing down from its static state.

The necromancer listened as the undead acquaintance continued. "You flatter me, sir. To say I spent my life mastering the Deathless Arts would be a trifle." A rumble of a laugh echoed through his preserved corpse. "I would be most pleased to hear more about your contribution and possibly even to count you among one of my associates in time. Please, come let us talk in my office away from prying eyes."

With a swish of his luxurious robes (even undead and unable to appreciate the decadence of fine fabrics did not stop him from "living" lavishly), Rėza turned with Angelique. Drawing his blade from his walking staff, he cut himself, the enchanted blood he had channeled into himself earlier from his hematokinesis dripping onto the ground into an arcane pattern. Once in place, a few breathy words were uttered, and he stepped into the blood portal, his body disintegrating into it to reappear in the vaults beneath the museum.

@the_psyentist: Couldnt pass up the chance to visit a museum

@nikademus: Nerd.

I'm sitting here like "Are those nordic runes"

"You are correct; my mother was a dark elf." He watched with the detached bemusement of the undead as his fellow lich's companion made her presence known. "And it is a pleasure to meet you as well, Angelique. Do lead on."

Following the pair through the portal, Cy'ian made no show of his admiration for the other's portal work; even his dread master would likely have approved of the artistry with which it was crafted. "I would be honored to be counted among such an illustrious organization," he stated, as he lowered his frame into a convenient seat. "I am quite confident," he continued, "that you will find my contribution to be sufficiently interesting, especially as there would be very few upon this world who would even suspect its existence." As he spoke, he withdrew a rather macabre-looking object from the folds of his voluminous cloak. "Behold, the skull of Nordok the Ancient."

"This skull," he explained, "belonged to an energy being of immense power, one which has existed since the formation of the universe. Though the Ancient One's being has long since abandoned this remnant of one of his many physical incarnations, it retains no small amount of arcane potency."

@the_vatican_assassin said:

It purred ever so seductively, the perfectly engineered v12 engine of Rolls-Royce's 2015 Phantom, as it reduced its aggravated aggression outside the MACO. A playground for the connoisseurs of the occult and mystic mysteries. A place where the supernatural was to be respected, researched, and understood. Its Romanesque style, illustrated with massive pillars and groin vaults, was a spectacular vision of architectural inspiration from the medieval era. And yet its surface beauty and scholastic accreditation were but a fraction of its more clandestine prestige.

Theo immediately sensed the pheromones of the paranormal, as he stepped out from the luxury vehicle. Pulling the wool collar of his seasonal apparel tight around his body, inadvertently covering a collar of a more distinguished nature, the Vatican Assassin promptly made his way inside. Preemptively sequestered in his purpose, the cleric fluently swayed through the arenas of art and literature; sculptures and displayed artifacts. Until finally coming upon a modern painting of no substantial value and a piece of un-sculpted clay housed inside a glass case. A small folded piece of stationary rested alongside the display with a myriad of trivial factoids, dates, and a name: "Fionn Mac Cumhaill"

With a grin of celebratory achievement, Theo sighed in relief,

"Finally...."

Gliding along silently, the petite woman looked up from the old book in her hands. Her slender frame was draped in a black dress, lace about her torso, fringe trailing upon the ground in long, weblike strands. Long, ebony hair pulled up on top of her head, a few strands falling around, framing, and shadowing her pale face. Grey eyes fixed upon the stranger suspiciously. Mr. Rėza might have been lax about the museum's defenses, but she was not. Her extra-sensory perception almost gave her many eyes to survey the dark infrastructure. The Spintress cleared her throat, closing the book, a cloud of dust erupting from the yellowed pages. Her voice was as dry as the decaying text, almost of an entity that might be borne of the books and paintings.

"Can I help you, sir?" The last word was nearly spit in contempt. She didn't much like humans. She liked them less when they looked to be laying hands upon things in her web.

@spinstress: (nice)

@the_vatican_assassin: Danke

@spinstress:

"Its rare..." Theo replied. Inadvertently ignoring the young woman's rhetorical backbite. Instead his focus remained centered on the authenticated artifact of mystical reverence. "So often these explorations lead to little more then a lovely walk, but today seems to be a different story." Casually wagging his finger towards the case "Do you know what lies beneath that mound of rock?" Curling his arms behind his back while nodding. "There's a very powerful weapon in there, and my benefactor has dispatched me here as to make an offer on it. He's hoping, against numerical probability, that the curator of this marvelously establishment can be financially persuaded to part with it."Now turned, shoulders squared with the mysterious lady in black, Theo theatrically bowed, "My name is Theo Balan. Second Son of a Second Son and current holder of the Vatican Assassin title. And you are?"

@the_vatican_assassin:

Her desaturated eyes narrowed as she watched him intently. "To be honest, I only know some of the items held here. Many more are kept for safety as much for educational and recreational purposes. Safety for their own safety, and for that of humanity. As such, these things, particularly those of particular interest and substantial value are not for sale. And this establishment is hardly hurting for money." She brushed back her strand of black hair coolly. She was a little more interested in him having heard the enigmatic title. She always had been interested in Roman Catholicism. There was something so ancient, even arcane about it. The downsides were of course the blind devotion to religion and dogma. Assassin seemed delightfully grey for the moral authority of the Vatican.

The Web Weaver's black lips curved into the subtlest of smiles, her ivory face nearly unchanged from its near emotionless demeanor. "Mr. Balan. I am Charlotte Thorne, librarian and sub-curator of the Museum of Ancient Cultures and the Occult. The founder, Gregory Rėza, is the one you would discuss purchase or exchange of such artifacts. I believe he is in a meeting, but I can send him a message to meet with you at his nearest convenience if you would like."