The loan of the others' favorite cows.

With not only the pride of their horde, but the favorite cow of their harems also on the line, the three champions gave their all in this Bray Games.

On the first day, they were tasked to feats of speed and endurance. Their first competition was to run up and down the length of the Plains, dealing with any obstacles along the way.

Prodos struggled with those the most. Moving at speed, his massive frame gave him too much momentum to dodge and weave around them, often resulting in him stumbling and rolling on the ground. Bamvros, having handed off his precious loose accessories, managed to skirt around them, but his piercings would sometimes catch onto an edge or corner, throwing off his balance or tripping him up entirely. Korgoth on the other hand, won it easily. Giving his competitors a half-run's head-start, his mighty legs worked like pistons, sending the straw, wood, and stone obstacles exploding into tiny pieces as he charged through them, showering his competitors in splinters and shards as he ran forwards, as they were on their way back.

Their next event was to run around the perimeter of the village, and not stop until there was only one left. Again, Korgoth breezed through the event. Long loping strides ate up the ground beneath him, while his competitors' mass and weight slowed them down. All day he ran, keeping up an easy leisurely pace, lapping them at least twice before they finally dropped from exhaustion. And just to rub it in their snouts, he did his last lap backwards.

But in the feats of strength, Prodos dominated. While Korgoth struggled to lift, let along throw the log, roughly the length of chimney and just as heavy, and Bamvros managing to chuck it a dozen paces away, he merely gripped it with one hand, and with a heave, launched it all the way from the edge of the village to the entrance of the Longhorn's grand tent.

Then came the stone pull. A heavy sled was weighed down with massive stones, each as heavy as a man, and they had to pull it as far as they could along the length of the big tent. With no way to build momentum, Korgoth couldn't get more than a handful of steps before he shook his head and admitted his defeat. Bamvros, digging his hooves and fingers deep into the ground, clawed his way to the halfway mark before he had to bow out as well. Prodos, took up the yoke upon his shoulders, and simply walked forwards. He did stop halfway as well, but only to tell some of the other warriors to hop on to the sled, because he felt that the sled wasn't heavy enough.

In the tests of skill, Bamvros made his comeback. In the javelin throw, his and Korgoth's javelins landed within a hair's breadth of the center of the target. After close, careful scrutiny and heated deliberation, the judges declared it to be Bamvros' victory, even though most taurs recall seeing that Korgoth's javelin's ribbon was red, not blue.

In the tracking game, Prodos and Korgoth were sure that they were on the right trail of their respective faux prey, when it suddenly split off in several different directions at the same time. It took them a day to discern which trails were fake and return back to the start, where Bamvros was waiting for them, with all of their prey in his hands.

Not that anyone would ever mention it, nor were there any rules against it, but some keen-eyed taurs had noticed that Bamvros' tail was now sporting eight rings for some unknown reason.

With the scores all tied up, everything depended on the final event, which was weirdly the most tense and boring event they had. At dawn, they had set up their chairs facing the Longhorn's tent, gotten comfortable, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

All throughout the day, they were greeted by their hordemates, and teased and annoyed by others, but yet they did not move. When the sun was at it's highest, and everyone took to the shade, they merely leered at each other, daring them to be the first to break. In the afternoon, a deep low rumbling announced itself from Prodos' stomach. Korgoth's leg bounced madly, itching for him to get up and move. Bamvros' arms were crossed, and his eyes were closed in deep concentration, silently regretting having drunk half a barrel of water when he left his tent.

But still, even when night fell and everyone else had gone to sleep, they waited.

To the minotaurs, this was the greatest test of all. It required no skill, no strength, no speed, and there was no way to gain any sort of advantage, by either valid or invalid methods. It was a test of will and stubbornness. There was nothing there that they could do, except show to their people who wanted to win the most.

Come the next morning, this year's Bray Champion had been found.