Original Classes: The Butler/The Drunk/The Knight/The Hunter
The Invoker is an Offensive class that belongs to the Cult faction with the objective to defeat the Blue Dragon and any neutrals that seek to do them harm. It used to be an Offensive or Killer class but was converted by The Cult Leader. If they were converted from The Drunk, they will be a Royal.
|Fanatic||Passive||∞||Immune to occupy and redirect.
|Silence target player for 20 seconds. They will not be able to speak or use abilities for the duration.|
|Chains of Corax||Night||3||Occupy target player tonight. They will be prevented from taking any actions tonight.|
|Strings of Mithras||Night||2||Redirect target player to another (or themselves).
- If you are promoted to The Cult Leader, you will retain your immunity to occupation.
- If you redirect an Investigative class to The King, they will receive the message " is the King."
- Your Chains of Corax ability is useful for keeping up the facade that you are unconverted, if you started as The Butler. More importantly, it can prevent a Paladin from smiting the Cult Leader if he tries to convert.
- Your Strings of Mithras ability is useful if you know you are controlling a killer, for example, if you know the identity of The Reaper, you can get him to kill for you.
- If you claim Butler, or were originally a Butler, keep in mind the fact you cant poison the King. Come up with a reason for why you cant poison the King.
- Most players will keep a close eye on Butler and Drunk claims, because they are usually common fake claims for an Invoker. Try to fake claim a class that isn't Butler or Drunk to make sure that the Blue Dragon players are not executing you just because of your claim, "leaving them in the dark" for a little longer than usual. The only downside of that Strategy is that you are still occupy immune, so a real Butler could out that information by trying to occupy you.
- If you are converted from the Knight or the Hunter. And all other Offensive blue dragon claims (The Drunk,The Butler) are dead, then avoid occupying/redirecting for no reason. Otherwise everyone will now that one of the Killer classes will have to have been converted. If not be prepared to convince a court that there is a Sellsword alive!
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 clenching 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 the waking man. He sat next to him and listened 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. He gazed at the scarred 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 reflection of the fireplace.
May, 2016 (Originally called "The Cultist")