<div style="text-align: center">​</div><br/><div style="text-align: center"><div class="bbImageWrapper js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/attachments/regulusm-png.2503/" title="RegulusM.png">
<img alt="RegulusM.png" class="bbImage lazyload" data-src="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/attachments/regulusm-png.2503/" data-url="" data-zoom-target="1" height="340" src="data:image/svg+xml;charset=utf-8,%3Csvg xmlns%3D'http%3A%2F%2Fwww.w3.org%2F2000%2Fsvg' width='226' height='340' viewBox%3D'0 0 226 340'%2F%3E" style="" title="RegulusM.png" width="226"/>
<noscript><img alt="RegulusM.png" class="bbImage" data-url="" data-zoom-target="1" height="340" src="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/attachments/regulusm-png.2503/" style="" title="RegulusM.png" width="226"/></noscript>
</div></div><br/><div style="text-align: center"><div style="text-align: left">Regulus Macatus was smug, indeed. He was a rising star in Capua, a man to be reckoned with on the social front of society. He had appeared out of nowhere a few short years ago, and against all odds and wagers against him, he had successfully built a villa, training grounds, and a ludus. No one had heard of him, only that he'd come from the east, the far reaches of the Empire where Alexander had once blazed the trail of civilization to exotic lands. They knew he had coin and a fair amount of good breeding, though his cognomen was unfamiliar. He was liked well enough as he worked to warm the hearts of the Capua upper crust and his flare for honeyed words and fierce competition became the entertainment topic of some circles of enthusiastic lovers of blood sport. <br/>
<br/>
It was for these reasons that Celsus had to die. The man had done him no wrong or slight save fail to push his plateaued stock onto greatness. Regulus had rivals, after all; rivals with good stock and sturdy great warriors that his beginner's luck was failing to earn victory over. After long, brooding periods of thought and reinvention, Regulus could only conclude that Celsus was the single driving force behind the more recent lackluster resents. It was on this epiphany that Regulus schemed the scenario that would separate the wheat from the chaff of his men. He simply had to light the spark of discontent and watch as to which side each of his men fell. The return had been promising and only Celsus had to die and he was glad to see only misdirection and lazy mentoring were the only afflictions his men suffered.<br/>
<br/>
That could be fixed, and he had done so, to much of his own personal expense. To get rid of one useless Doctore was easy enough, but to replace one was no small feat. To go cheap would have left him none the better, but to truly throw a leg over the situation, he'd have to search and pay dearly. The compromises to himself to procure that kind of coin had been hard to bear, but with the specter of Batiatus' victory grin always looming at the edges of his mind, Regulus had suffered through the humiliation of his 'benefactor' and the disgust it brought him just so that he could stand on the balcony of his villa that very night to see the outcome of all his hard labors.  <br/>
<br/>
Tiberius stood one step to the right and two back from the Dominus as was his usual station when Macatus addressed his gladiators. He was in silent awe of the scene as it played out before him. He had never seen the men come to attention like they had the moment that beautiful, exotic, and utterly terrifying beast set to prowling the sands before them. The man that held the creature at bay was no less beautiful and exotic. The formidable pair were the Dominus' pride and joy on this afternoon and Dominus had set all his hopes and expectations on the new Doctore that had come at some undisclosed great price that Dominus had been willing to pay for man and beast. Tiberius did not understand all the grief and torment the transaction had cause his Dominus, but as the afternoon sun cast long shadows of the pair across the attentive, hesitant men, Tiberius believed he now drew full meaning from it. He could barely keep the smile from his face as the hope of future glories for Ludus Macatus warmed his heart. It seemed years of mediocrity were about to be shredded away with the sweep of a great cat's claw. A worthy replacement, indeed.​</div><br/>
<div class="bbImageWrapper js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/attachments/ezara-png.2504/" title="Ezara.png">
<img alt="Ezara.png" class="bbImage lazyload" data-src="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/attachments/ezara-png.2504/" data-url="" data-zoom-target="1" height="281" src="data:image/svg+xml;charset=utf-8,%3Csvg xmlns%3D'http%3A%2F%2Fwww.w3.org%2F2000%2Fsvg' width='500' height='281' viewBox%3D'0 0 500 281'%2F%3E" style="" title="Ezara.png" width="500"/>
<noscript><img alt="Ezara.png" class="bbImage" data-url="" data-zoom-target="1" height="281" src="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/attachments/ezara-png.2504/" style="" title="Ezara.png" width="500"/></noscript>
</div></div><br/>"Warriors of Ludus Macatus!..." the man stepped forward as the beast began to slowly pace the sandy ground before him.<br/><br/>"Men in proud service to Dominus Regulus Macatus!..." he spoke clearly and loudly with a voice that resonated in rich timbre like a battlefield commander.<br/><br/>"You have suffered a great loss. A friend. A mentor. A man who would see you from the pits of failed battles and brutish brawls to the sands of the arena. You have burned and buried a man you respected, a man who fostered your talent like a hard father with harsh words and even harsher punishments." the man then too began to pace as he spoke, looking each man in the eye as he passed by, speaking his words to each individual gladiator and prospect as his beast prowled beside him. "But a warrior does not cry out or disparage at the lessons that are forced upon him, he embraces them, takes them to his heart again and again until they come manifest at the tip of his sword is victory!"<br/><br/>He stopped at the center again and looked at the gathering. He paused, knowing that the silences in his addresses bore the same gravity as his words did. "You all knew him, but he is no more. Now you stand wonder who I am, and what is this..." he casually gestured to the beast that suddenly roared seemingly on cue. "<i>She</i>is Shakti, a magnificent creature known as the tigris in the far eastern jungles...."<br/><br/>"And<i>he</i>is Ezara, The Black King," Regulus took the reigns of the conversation in his own hands and all attention was again on him. "Some of you with years and others of you with eastern blood are likely to have heard his name, his legend, The Black King and his mighty beasts. I would guess none of you have ever met him in the arena because you stand here today. He is a legend in the far Empire. He contests are legenday but he has long since retired from the sands and turns his skill to seeing other men raised to such heights of fame, glory, and coin. To the crowds that have loved him, he is the Black King, but to you, Ludus Macatus, on this day, and all the days to come, he is your Doctore! We will no longer suffer the doldrums of stagnation and the threat of defeat!"<br/><br/>When Regulus looked down to him, Ezara knew the ball was back to him and he picked it up with effortless grace and timing to dust off the stale dreams of the men and whip up the hunger of their spirits. "We will only know the honey of victory and the sweet taste of glory! Warriors of Ludus Macatus! Will you drink from its cup!"<br/><br/>Tiberius could only look on and blink in awe. This was the dawning of a new era for Ludus Macatus. The Black King and his tigris would deliver them into the loving arms of Fortuna. He boldly hazarded a look to his Dominus who turned to catch his gaze. The noble cast a sly smirk to him; very smug, indeed.