The Goblin and the beast of the Underdark.

The small goblin shouldered his long bow, smiling smugly as the mass of black scales raced past him, laughing jubilantly as its body crashed onto the pile of gold coins. The dragon rolled on its back, onto its stomach, and pushed its long snout into the pile like an animal rooting. "You are a creature of your word!" the dragon exclaimed in the voice of a child, its girlish highpitch betraying the ferocious size of the monster.

His grin widened, stretching from pointy ear to pointy ear. "Yes. Saarvith always keep promise. Enjoy your shinies, down here no one will bother you. Saarvith head back to the ruins, keep up work of horde. When you are ready, return and we will finish work." The goblin turned and left, quite pleased with the pace at which everything was moving along. If the other Wrymlords could sure up their ends, then everything would go off without a hitch. The Highwrymlord's vision would come to fruition.

"Oh, dear goblin." The dragon called, and Saarvith looked back over his shoulder. "I have further considered your request, and I grant it. You may ride."

The goblin squeeked giddily at the response, before clearing his throat and collecting himself. "Um, ahem, yes, Saarvith thanks you. Together, we will do great work." Later down the chamber, Saarvith couldn't help but skip has he went. A goblin mounted on a great dragon. Truly it would be a sight to behold.