The faux tribal strains swell as the camera pans wide around the yacht bearing the twenty contestants. The canon elves, led by Cutter, are warily eyeing the Alternaverse elves, led by Swift. “All right!” Winnowill announces as she steps on her mark. She is dressed in slutty safari get-up, complete with pith helmet. “Survivors!”
 

Brightmetal: (waving) Hi, Gamma.

Winnowill: Quiet, you. Now, we’ve sailed to this picturesque bay, framed by seacliffs and rainforests. You think we’re here to take publicity photos.”

Swift: (deadpan) But we’re not are we. You’re throwing us overboard with nothing but the clothes on our backs, right?

“We’re not all elves!” Picknose wails.

Swift and Cutter rock-paper-scissors for who gets first pick. It is long and pointless. Cutter and Swift tie a record 42 times, and when Swift finally wins scissors to paper, Cutter launches into a lengthy diatribe about the anti-Way-ness of the entire game. Finally Winnowill pulls out a coin and flips. Cutter wins first choice, and after much hemming and hawing which gets cut from the broadcast, he decides on the port side.
“Right!” Winnowill grins. “Trolls!”

Suddenly, thirty ugly Elfquest-movie edition trolls appear on deck and close ranks around the players. They each seize an elf and toss them overboard. Brightmetal and Picknose both require two troll ushers to eject them.

The elves and trolls swim desperately for shore. Picknose sputters, and Cutter and Nightfall reluctantly turn back to help him swim. Over on the starboard side, Brightmetal limps along in the water, until Littlefire lends him some floating powers, and pulls him up above the water. Back on the ship, Winnowill enjoys a fruit cocktail, complete with miniature umbrella.

Upon reaching their beach, the Warp tribe surveys the campsite. There is only a small strip of land between the high water line and the steep hillside. A map left by their tribal flag reveals that fresh water is a long hike up the hill. But before Cutter can marshal his tribe to begin a water run, the ghost of Crescent finds a lightly trodden path that leads to a lovely secluded pool fed by a waterfall. Swearing profusely at Winnowill’s deception, the tribe hurries over to find a crate of supplies and a Toshiba Satellite laptop containing text files of all the Alternaverse tales. They also find their tribal buffs – ten blue scrunchy-thingies that defy classification. Nightfall dons one as a tube top. Skywise replaces his headband with his. Picknose finds he can only wear his as a wristband, and begins complaining about discrimination.

On the opposite side of the bay, the Alt tribe is already succumbing to insect bites. There seems to be no solid land where they can erect their camp site. Finally they find a patch of bare soil rising out of the mire. “Whose drukkin’ brilliant idea was it to make Winnowill the host?” Swift moans. Spar and Coppersky are already complaining about the smell. But their grief is short-lived. Soon Gypsy Moth finds a beautiful sandy beach just beyond the mangroves. There the tribe finds canteens, a cook pot, a crate filled with junk food, and a bookshelf filled with Elfquest Reader’s Collections.

Spar: Ech. Grayscale.

Over at Camp Warp, Crescent and Ember are reading about the exploits of their Internet counterparts. Cutter, Strongbow and Kahvi are hard at work making a shelter, while Picknose slathers his sunburned face with ointment from the first aid kit. Nightfall and Scouter are trying to make fire by rubbing sticks together, but the wood is not the right kind, and they cannot find decent tinder. Meanwhile, Skywise is straining to see across the bay.

Cutter: You won’t see anything, you know. They’re too far away.

Skywise: Seriously – who is that hot little redhead?

Nightfall: Who? Spar?

Skywise: No! No, the other one – what’s her name, Savin?

Skywise: She’s hot! Damn – Alt-me gets that?

Ember: Alt-you is monogamous too by the looks of it.

Skywise: (stunned) Trippy.

Coppersky: (face buried in “Forevergreen”) Sorrow’s End is pathetic.

Weatherbird: Why?

Coppersky: I’m not in it! Seriously, who is the whiny little Jethel kid? And why in the name of all things profane was Dart shagging Shushen?

Coppersky: Scouter’s off three-waying with Dewshine and Spar... I mean... (rolls eyes) Tyleet. And Leetah’s doing it with the man-Swift.

Coppersky winces. “You... you really don’t want to know. It’s... yeah... you don’t want to know.”

Over at Camp Warp, the tribe is bedding down for the night. Picknose is already asleep and snoring loudly. “Yeah, we’ve got a good tribe,” Scouter tells the camera. “I mean, okay, Kahvi’s a bit of a loose cannon... and Picknose is – well, he’s going home at the first vote, I can tell you that. And... I’m not exactly what Crescent can contribute, being dead and all, and I swear I’m going to get Ember before she can get me – but have you seen what they’ve got over there on the other tribe?”

At Camp Alt, the tribe is complaining about the lack of blankets and pillows. Littlefire has taken off his shirt to use as a pillow. Kit has made herself a nest of soft leaves and branches, while Brightmetal calmly lies down without pillow or cover and folds his hands across his chest. Cheipar and Weatherbird are playfully wrestling for use of her fluffy down pillow. “Hey, no foreplay!” Coppersky shouts. “Drukkin’ breeders...”

The sun rises on Day 2. Kahvi is up early hauling water. “Don’t let them think just ‘cause I’m a chief, I don’t help out. See, you have to gain their trust first. Then you make your play.”

Over at Camp Alt, everyone is still fast asleep.

Cutter and Nightfall rise, and begin morning callisthenics. Skywise is dreaming of the Sunshine Duo when Picknose rolls over and swats him with his heavy troll fist.

Over at Camp Alt, everyone is still asleep.

Crescent is channelling the spirits of her yet-to-be-born younger sister while Strongbow struggles with the new bow has been carved himself with New Moon – the only weapon the tribe has. Tyleet is making sharpened stakes to use as daggers. Picknose wakes up and belches loudly.

Over at Camp Alt, Cheipar is just starting to wake up. He gets up, carves himself a stake, and set out into the brush. He returns some time later with a fat burrowing mammal for breakfast. Everyone is still sleeping. Cheipar shifts on his feet uncertainly. He clears his throat a few times. Everyone is still sleeping.

“Food!” Cheipar announces. Swift jerks awake. So do Savin and Weatherbird. Littlefire moans and rolls over.

“We’ve got tree-mail,” Ember announces as she jogs back into camp. She waves a parchment over her head. “Our first immunity challenge is tonight at dusk.”

Strongbow bursts into a flurry of audible curses as his bow snaps in two. Crescent floats over to comfort him. Kahvi has already caught a strange squirrel-like creature and is struggling to skin it. “Gaah! There’s no meat on this thing. I hate this place. Hate the heat. Hate the humidity. Hate the stinging plants – my legs are just covered in welts from those damned nettles.”

Picknose: This is a lot harder than I thought. Slugscat... I’m itching all over, my stomach is in knots. I’m this close to packing it in.

At dusk, the two tribes gather on a beach midway between the two camps. Winnowill is waiting for them. They notice two large piles of bamboo, hemp cord, and palm fronds lying on the sand. Out to sea are two floating buoys with burning braziers. “Welcome, welcome,” Winnowill announces. “Ah, all still alive, I see. Ah well. Welcome to the first immunity challenge. Fire. It represents life in this game. And it’s the cliché opening for every Survivor season, and who are we to buck the trend? So, your challenge is to build a raft with these supplies capable of supporting at least three members of your tribe. The rest can swim and push the raft, but at least three members must be on that raft. Row or swim and push that raft out to the buoy and retrieve fire. And this is what you’re fighting for,” she unveils the Little Palace. “First tribe back here with fire wins immunity and three more days guaranteed on the island.”

The tribes get to work lashing bamboo and branches together. The Warp tribe decides that Picknose, Crescent and Kahvi will ride on the raft. “Because Crescent doesn’t weigh anything being a ghost and all,” Skywise explains. “And Picknose and Kahvi can’t really swim, so they’d better be on the raft.” Meanwhile, the Alt tribe chooses Littlefire, Gypsy Moth and Coppersky, the lightest of their tribemembers, to ride on the raft. Their raft is afloat first – living in the Great Holt, the Alt elves know all about making rafts. Winnowill sits back and watches as the Warp elves struggle to keep up. Their raft is shaky, and begins to sinks underwater. Picknose and the others are sitting in a puddle of water. But the raft has not sunk all the way, and the other elves jump in the water, gamely swimming and pushing the raft.

The Alt tribe holds the lead. Coppersky and Gypsy paddle away, while the other seven elves push the raft. Brightmetal is a slow swimmer, and begins to fall behind. Kit turns and holds out her hand to him to help him catch us. The Alt tribe slows, and for a short time it seems that the Warp tribe may catch up.

The Alt tribe reaches the brazier and picks up the burning brand. They have fire. Now all they must do is return. The Warp tribe is close on their heels. But now Picknose loses his balance and tumbles in the water. They have to stop until he climbs back on the raft. The Alt tribe now has a wide margin between them. The Warp tribe is still far from the beach when the Alt tribe races onshore, burning torch in hand.

“Immunity, Alternaverse elves!” Winnowill cries. Swift hoists the Little Palace high over her head in triumph. The Warp elves return to camp in disgrace.

Picknose: Yeah. I’m worried. I won’t deny it. Those little butterfly-legs – they’re going to blame me for this. It’s not my fault they can’t build a decent raft.

Nightfall: We have little experience with seafaring – and on our very first challenge, we go up against these elves who spend half the year punting around on rafts and canoes. If you ask me, that challenge was rigged.

Scouter: Yeah, we lost the challenge because of Picknose. But it’s not just that. He’s loud. He’s rude. He’s always complaining. He smells.

Over at Camp Alternaverse, Swift is lying up to her neck in the cool seawater, trying desperately to keep her many insect bites cool. The rest of the tribe sits down to eat the fat rabbit Cheipar has brought home for dinner.

Day 3 sees Picknose try to make a deal with Kahvi. “Look, they’re going to take me out tonight. And you’ll be next. You and me, twiggy – we’re the black sheep of this little band. We have to stick together.

Kahvi: Why the hell would I help Picknose out? His number is up. I’m not going to endanger my chances by siding with a ruttin’ troll.

Tyleet: I feel sorry for Picknose. It was very brave of him to try this game, but honestly, he’s not cut out for it. He’s not a team player. And it’s time for him to go.

They reach the ruined temple of the ancient humans who used to live on Beacon. Winnowill bids them each to take a torch and dip into the fire. “For fire is life...” they all groan, finishing her sentence for her.

“So, Warp tribe, how’s it going?” Winnowill addresses them with a smirk. “I hear you’re finding a hard time getting anything good to eat. It must be hard for you, to find yourselves in such an alien environment. And to see the Alt-tribe thriving...”

Scouter: This game is rigged, I’m telling you.

Winnowill: So, Picknose. You’re the only troll in this game. Does that make you a target?

Picknose: It sure does. These twiggy little elves, they’re all just waiting for a chance to turn on me. They’re all vicious bigots. I mean that one (points to Kahvi) even ate my wife’s third cousin’s ex-boyfriend’s roommate!

Cutter: Bet you’re happy about that.

Winnowill: Very.

Winnowill: I was wondering if you’d get the Way into this. And with that, it is time to vote.

Winnowill: Picknose, the tribe – such as it is – has spoken. It’s time for you to leave.

PICKNOSE'S LAST WORDS  Slugscat. So I blew it. Big deal. What do I need a million dollars for anyway? Have you see my net worth? I’m richer than Bill drukkin’ Gates. And this island is no fit place for trolls. I’m going home. To the rest of you – you’re all a bunch of sell-outs, and I hope Winnowill manages to kill at least one of you before this show wraps.