The second to exit the Fail gate was a far more imposing figure. Grob the minotaur had to duck his head to get out of the waiting area, and his favourite pillar grated at the frame, sending flakes of stone and dust showering down around him. The gates back home were wider. Of course, they had to be to accommodate their champion.<br/><br/>He raised his hand, placing a small stone pipe in his mouth. Small by his standards. By any others it would be comically oversized. A thin line of smoke rose from the bowl and he inhaled.<br/><br/>Squinting his eyes, he stepped out into the sunlight, massive hooves pressing into the ground, cracking the soft earth beneath them. It took a moment for his vision to adjust, and he took in the arena. While the door had been small, the rest was massive. Plenty of room to stretch his legs.<br/><br/>A lion lunged at him, only to be yanked back by the iron bindings around its neck. Grob snorted, a cloud of dark grey smoke poured forth from his nostrils. Theyâ€™d stopped bothering with the beasts back home. They barely inconvenienced Grob, but were quite fatal to the majority of his opponents. Their odds were bad enough on average. The only beasts Grob ever saw, were the big ones. If you wanted to see Grob sweat, you needed to bring a real monster.<br/><br/>He shifted the great stone pillar on his shoulder, sitting on its axis, held in place by a thick palm and bicep. Even a beast of his gratuitous size had difficulty wrapping his arm around the weapon. Perhaps because it wasnâ€™t built as a weapon. Details. Irrelevant to Grob.<br/><br/>Snorting another cloud of smoke, he stomped forward, towards the middle of the arena. The rhythmic thud of his hooves in the dirt, and the clattering of his platemail loincloth. His only apparent armor. A man had to protect his loins.<br/><br/>Shoving unceremoniously past what appeared to be a child, the hulking form of Grob halted. He turned his head to look back at the child. His free hand reached up to pull the pipe from his mouth. â€œShouldnâ€™t you be suckling at your mothers teat, boy? This is no place for children. Donâ€™t get under my hooves.â€<br/><br/>Placing the pipe back in his mouth, he made his way to the center of the wide arena. Letting the pillar slide from his shoulder, he planted it into the ground, blowing up a cloud of dust and rock. It stood on its own as he took his tiniest finger, and placed it gently into the bowl of his pipe, smothering the contents, before placing the object into a small pouch at his side.<br/><br/>He stepped back from his pillar, interlocked his fingers, faced his palms out, and pushed. The crackling of his knuckles resounded a short distance. He inhaled deeply, this next part would be much more audible. The towering behemoth, the eleven feet of muscle and mass, bellowed. His thick, scarred belly shook. â€œWho will fight Grob!? Let the bravest die first!â€ He raised a fist to the sky and roared for the crowd. The winner was not decided by their approval. The champion was not born of their praise. But a gladiator lived for the sound of their cheers. And Grob was King of the gladiators.<br/><br/>Placing a hand on the top of his pillar, he looked at his supposed competitors. The aforementioned boy was, of course, out of the question. Grob would not crush a child. There was no glory in murder. In the other direction, a man with wings like a bird, and a thick set man of dark skin. It was clear by the look on his face whom he would be fighting. Grob would not interfere. Maybe he would challenge the winner.<br/><br/>The third gate simply perplexed the gladiator. A bird, as tall as he himself, with bright yellow feathers. He had not been aware that there would be monsters competing. And he had never seen such a beast before. It didnâ€™t look particularly fearsome. More delicious, actually. He could use a snack.<br/><br/>Near the bird was another yellow... creature? It was vaguely humanoid, and that was a generous description. The most correct way to describe the thing was â€˜oddâ€™.<br/><br/>Grob grinned, or as close as a minotaur can come to a grin. â€œLooks like chicken tonight.â€