Eight Down, Ten Up

Angrily, and hoping to inflict as much pain on the bush-Evans as he could before being expelled from the competition, Reginald threw himself at the cargo shorted host, yelling "Death to the Evanses!" and "I turned down going to the Grammys for this!"
However, before he could clarify whether he had been referring to the musical Grammys or a chance to visit his elderly female relatives, the post-elimination disappearance protocol kicked in, and Reginald disappeared mid-jump.

The bush-Evans told a deep breath, exhaled loudly, and recomposed himself (in C sharp minor this time).
"Ok, contestants. Its time to move on to the next round."

Dramatic music started playing, and the lights swung about wildly, dramatically, and quite often getting in people's eyes.

"The Roc is a large mythical bird, capable of carrying away a full grown elephant or the full series of Harry Potter books without struggling, and we just happen to have one nesting in the Battle Pentagon, atop Mount Ain. For this round, the contestants must compete by climbing to the top of Mount Ain, and stealing the one egg currently in the Roc's nest, returning it here to the Tribal Circle, where the chef Evans will make an omelette big enough to feed all the remaining contestants. There is only one egg, so the contestant who is holding the egg when it enters the Tribal Circle, or if more than one are holding it, the first contestant with the egg to step foot in the Tribal Circle, will be named the winner of this round, and their prize will be choosing which contestant will next be leaving us."

At this, Dungay looked at Trixie excitedly.
"This is our chance!" he whispered, "If one of us can get that egg, we can send home nobody in particular!"
Trixie said nothing, but nodded in silent approval.

"Now, if you feel you need climbing implements - and our safety rating demands that we give you that option - we have a wide selection for you on this table" the Evans said as a table laden with ropes, crampons, ice axes, and the occasional plunger for good measure rose from the floor of the Tribal Circle.
Dungay eyed the table greedily.
"Careful," Pam whispered, leaning over, "This reminds me of the time our cheerleading team went up against the Wildcats from three cities over. They offered us pom poms to use, but they ended up being laced with cyanide, and three of our squad died."
She giggled.
"Ah, high school pranks."
Dungay's face dropped, but he caught it before it hit the ground.
"With the Evanses already against us we can't risk it," he muttered, "But if they're not booby-trapped, we are going to be at a disadvantage. I mean, I am the most accomplished Sherpa in my village, but that only counts for so much."

But there was no more time to worry about this, for a gun sounded, representing the start of round three. Taylor, Krulnor, Randy, and the Hillbilly all ran for table, with the majority of the other competitors jointly them shortly afterwards. Trixie and Pam made for the exit, with Dungay - taking one last longing glance at the table - following close behind.

"Ok," Trixie said as they entered the jungle arena, "Now we just have to find the Mountain and start - "
There was a large and treacherous looking mountain right in front of them.
Obviously, the Evanses could redesign the arena between rounds.
"Ok," Trixie said, quickly recovering, "Now we just have to find the Roc's nest and climb - "
There was a loud and dangerous sounded CAAAWWW from high above them, and looking up, the three tributes spotted the Roc, flying far above them, and heading for a cleft near the mountain top.
"Ok," Trixie tried again, "Now we just need to find the safest route up the mountain and - "
"This way!" Dungay said, breaking into a sprint (then hot-wiring it, taking it for a hoon around the parking-lot, and setting fire to it in an act of petty vandalism).
Trixie sighed, and grudgingly began following the Sherpa and the Cheerleader towards the large, imposing mountain.

***

Goblins are incredible craftsmen, and the Goblin had taken the opportunity presented by the table of implements to construct Desmond a new leg out of a plunger and a length of rope. It had also fashioned a fully-operational climbing robo-bus out of three ice axes, two ladders, another plunger, and some bailing twine. Now the odorous pair, who had dropped behind the pack somewhat during this construction phase, were flying towards the mountain (although when I say flying I don't mean actually flying but rather flying in the colloquial sense of travelling quickly, often whilst seated in a vehicle. I mean, Goblins are good craftsmen, but, really? A flying machine out of climbing tools? That's just ridiculous!). They passed Randy Jackson first, who was carrying a long length of rope, and puffing heavily, followed by the Hillbilly, who was being delayed by his obsessive need to shout "Hee-yuk!" while slapping his knee at regular intervals.
Up ahead, they could see the fast approaching figure of Krulnor, who, true to form, had taken only the most manly and violent-looking of all the objects offered, namely, an ice axe so large it looked more like a metal door with a sharpened edge and a handle. Krulnor had reached the first real cliff-face of the mountain, and was now attempting to climb it while holding the ice axe between his teeth. Unfortunately, the weight of the axe was slowing his progress down somewhat. Currently, he was gripping the rock-face with all four limbs and trying desperately to lift the axe-head off the ground with his teeth.
The robo-bus chugged up alongside the barbarian, and the Goblin began manipulating the control panel, changing the bus into 'climb-mode'. A pair of robotic arms emerged from somewhere within the machine, and each of the tyres produced plungers with which to better stick to the mountain side.
Krulnor stared at them in amazement, and frustration at his own plight.
Dropping the ice axe, he muttered "How do you make that?"
"Fairly easily," the Goblin said dismissively as he continued to work at the levers.
The robo-bus shuddered, and began re-positioning itself onto the cliff-face.

Desmond smiled. He knew that forming a partnership with the Goblin had been a smart move, and now they were going to leave Krulnor in their disturbingly rancid dust.
Krulnor knew it too, and could see by the twinkle in Desmond's eye that if the repugnant twosome managed to retrieve the Roc's egg, his elimination was likely.
He had to do something, and quickly. The robo-bus was already slowly beginning its ascent.
He took a deep breath.
There was something he could do, but it was incredibly risky.
Never in his career had he ever attempted something so fool-hardy, and never had he heard of another barbarian ever attempting it either. Some things were just not worth the risk.
But the shame of losing was too great, and sometimes things that were not worth the risk needed to be risked anyway, because they might be worth the risk when they were risked.. or something like that.
Yes, there was one thing that he knew would stop the Goblin, but it could very well end in his own death.
"Why don't you make it go faster?" he yelled towards the Goblin.
The Goblin froze, and its eyes narrowed angrily.
Desmond's face turned pale, and he looked down at Krulnor with a mixture of surprise, and fear, and a vague hint of curiosity.
Krulnor had asked a question of a Goblin, and had used more than five words.
Krulnor had broken Goblin protocol.

Chapter Eight (Down) *** Chapter Ten (Up)