The Cult Leader

Class Summary
Converted Class:  Immune to  Convert

The Cult Leader is a  Unique "Special" class that belongs to the Cult faction with the objective to eliminate the Blue Dragon and any Neutral Killers. As the head of the Cult of Mithras, the Cult Leader is Unique and will appear in every game the Cult is present (Note: minimum of 11 players required for a cult game to be possible).

The Cult Leader will always be paired with The Seeker. He will be able to  Convert a new member to the Cult every other night. If the Cult Leader tries to convert a class that has conversion immunity, he can try again the following night on another target. If the Cult Leader is killed, another Cult member will become the Cult Leader.



Strategy

 * It's better to save your Blood of Mithras ability until after the Cult members have used up all their limited- Use abilities.
 * If you need to sacrifice a member, The Ritualist may be the best choice, as you will gain an extra Eradicate charge.
 * You should aim for The Prince or The Paladin with your Eradicate ability, as they are the most dangerous classes for your faction.
 * Some nights you will need to weigh in what is more valuable, an extra member, or an enemy dead, though this is largely based on the situation.
 * It is Important to try to convert people based on the scenario. For example you would want to convert support classes when you are in need of kills, and Investigative when you are needing to know the classes of others, and Offensive/Killers when you are in need to great chaos in order to cover yourself, and Social classes when you feel as though you need information via scum reading.

Lore: Whispers of the Gods
A man walked slowly down the end of the crimson corridor, passing body after body, out of Castle Demwir; incantations echoing through his head, "Who--what the hell is Corax? ...Certainly not another one of those voices, I hope"... "Mithras... this other voice: what are you? How do I even know your name?"

Bursts of red rushed gallantly to the top of the snow after each footstep. "I must stop wasting time, for I have important business to attend to". "NO! You're mad! Just get out, already!", the man screeched while clenched his head, writhing in an internal struggle as he ground his teeth in agony. Recollecting his thoughts, he stepped further into the frosty midwinter's evening, discovering only the stinging down his face by the chilled air from clawing his head. He had made up his mind -- or had it been made for him? He was to leave this place and find proof! Proof that these "night whispers" of men--no, GODS-- existed outside his head. He knew they were real, but could only convince others with blood.

Throughout the night, he walked, gazing out into the darkness. "Masters!", he cried into the night, "Prove to me that you are real and that I am not a fool for trusting you!". There was only the eerie sound of silence. "I see! Of course, I understand". The man cried into the inky blackness of the night, "I must prove my worth to you: An army; a sacrifice...". He looked back and saw nothing but the night and the gazes from whatever lurks nearby the edge of the gorge. He knew he could not turn back. There was nothing at Castle Demwir; not anymore. He had to keep moving forward. The mist spread aside to reveal a vast structure.... Castle Adiart. He broke into a sprint as he ran towards the grand, sand-stoned castle, but swiftly collapsed from lack of energy, for he had not eaten in days. He collapsed by the gate as a Butler of Castle Adiart rushed him in and, seeing his robes, considered him to be of a noble status. Even the ice was too dense to even gather the tiniest water droplets. "How did this man even survive...?", the Butler questioned in his head.

As this was after-hours, the Butler brought nourishment and wine for both himself and for the waking man. He sat next to him, listening to the ramblings of a mad man about some unheard names: Mithras and Corax, and how he journeyed from Castle Demwir on his own accord. The Butler smiled as he drank his wine, gazing at the chalice he drank from that he never recalled seeing before. His white wine appeared red in the dark tavern - perhaps an illusion from the dancing flames of the fireplace. The man slowly leaned in towards the Butler, frozen with a smile, and whispered in an unfamiliar tone, "You... my flesh puppet -- you know what needs to be done". They both leaned back and merrily sipped their wine in silence as their crimson eyes continued dancing to the reflective glow of fireplace embers.

~Lore by JammySplodge and assisted by Xblade

Announced
May, 2016