Success!

Bruce then tasked Goblin Mike with a perilous mission: to venture into the lair of the notorious black dragon, Kassavia, and deliver a fabricated tale – the accusation that the brass dragon Garon had slain Dix.

Mike, his body quivering with fear, understood the gravity of his mission. He looked back at his family, their laughter a stark contrast to the dread he felt. The thought of failing Bruce and facing the dragon's ruthless retribution propelled him forward.

Bruce, however, was confident in the plan's success, knowing Kassavia's wrath would be redirected towards the brass dragon.

In the murky swamps, Mike approached the formidable lair of Kassavia. The sight of the colossal dragon, its vast wings tucked and eyes shut in a rare moment of repose, sent shivers down his spine. Yet the dragon's slumber was not deep, its senses alert to the timid presence of the goblin.

Disturbed by the faint rustle of Mike's approach, Kassavia's eyes cracked open, a sliver of her piercing gaze fixing upon the trembling goblin. "What brings you to my domain, you insignificant creature?" she hissed, her voice a chilling blend of curiosity and threat.

"Great Lord Black Dragon, I come not to disturb but to bear urgent news," Mike stammered, his fear palpable.

Kassavia's gaze, piercing and impatient, bored into Mike. "Speak, then," she growled, her tone laden with lethal promise.

Trembling, Mike relayed the fabricated story, each word a careful echo of Bruce's instructions. "Gallon, in a blatant act of defiance, has slain your descendant Dix. Only his head remains, a macabre trophy at the border of Gallon's domain – a declaration of war."

Kassavia's eyes narrowed, her suspicion palpable. "And why should I trust the words of a lowly goblin?" she sneered, her massive claws enclosing Mike, bringing him terrifyingly close.

Mike, emboldened by desperation, replied, "My life is in your claws. Verify my words, and if I speak false, my life is forfeit. But if I speak true, let our goblin tribe serve you."

Kassavia, intrigued by the proposition and the potential for vengeance, withheld her lethal impulse.

Rising from her nest, the swamp shuddered beneath her. Her massive wings unfurled, casting a vast shadow over the land. With a couple of mighty beats, she took to the skies, the embodiment of dread.

Mike, clasped in Kassavia's grasp, felt the terror and exhilaration of flight. The winds roared, his heart raced, and the dragon's claws became his only sanctuary.

In mere moments, propelled by Kassavia's mastery of the skies, they reached the northern fringe of Gallon's territory. Guided by Mike, Kassavia's keen eyes spotted the gruesome evidence – the head of her progeny, Dix, confirming the goblin's tale from high above.

Kassavia, the mighty black dragon, swooped down with Goblin Mike in her grasp, landing near the tragic sight. The scent of her offspring, Dix, hung heavily in the air—a scent that could never be mistaken.

Kassavia's heart ached. Out of five dragon eggs, fate had been cruel: two were infertile, one was stillborn, and another was a dragon beast devoid of heritage, immediately exiled from the nest. Dix had been her sole hope, her cherished heir, whom she had reluctantly expelled just three days prior, adhering to the ancient customs of the dragon clan.

Yet, maternal affection lingered. The attack on Dix was not just a strike against her progeny but a blatant affront to her, a challenge to her sovereignty.

Leaving Mike trembling on the ground, Kassavia launched herself into the sky, her wings propelling her towards Garon's lair with unprecedented fury. Her roar pierced the heavens, sending tremors of fear through all creatures below.

Meanwhile, Mike, having narrowly escaped the jaws of death, hastened through the thorny underbrush of the primeval jungle, rushing to relay the unfolding events to Bruce.

In the cave, Bruce lay in wait, anticipating Mike's return. The goblin, in his haste, tripped over a stone, tumbling into Bruce, who exhaled a cloud of chlorine in surprise. Mike coughed and sputtered, the acrid air stinging his nostrils.

"Master, it worked! The black dragon took the bait. Your brilliance, your foresight—it's unmatched," Mike gasped, catching his breath.

Bruce had orchestrated the plan with meticulous precision, knowing well the tempestuous nature of Kassavia. The sight of Dix's severed head would surely drive her into a blind rage, straight into Garon's domain. The ensuing clash between the dragons was a gamble, their strengths evenly matched, their magical prowess the deciding factor.

"Now, the kobold tribe should have reached Kassavia's lair by now. With no offspring to protect, and Cassavia preoccupied, the lair's defenses will be down," Bruce mused, a strategic glint in his eye.

"Mike, your courage won't go unrewarded. From this day forth, you stand as the leader of your kin, a beacon under my patronage. The blessings of the dragon will be yours in abundance," Bruce proclaimed, a promise of prosperity and protection in his words.

Mike's heart swelled with joy and gratitude, his face aglow with the promise of a brighter future under Bruce's wing. He scampered off, eager to share the news with his tribe.

Simultaneously, Seth, the kobold chieftain, led his select band towards Cassavia's lair. True to Bruce's prediction, the dragon's magical aura, typically a formidable barrier, was conspicuously absent. The kobolds advanced, the scent of the black dragon lingering in the air, a reminder of the perilous mission they were embarking upon.