A centaurian

As the doors on the other side of the arena open and your opponent steps in. Your eagerness to fight dissappears and is instead replaced with a blood boiling rage. Standing at nearly ten feet tall, a humanoid torso with curved horns attached to the body of a horse with a metallic rat like tail and an 20 inch horsecock shamelessly displayed out in the open. A centaurian, the shokan race's most hated enemy. Before the two of you can charge at each other, the voice of your master echoes through the arena. "My loyal minions, the rules of this match are simple. The two of you shall fight until one of you is unable to fight, dead, or I called the match. The winner my decide to the fate of the loser, be it ****, servitude, or acquiring your opponent's strength." With those words spoken the two of you waste no more time and charge at each other.