Our service is unique, our clients are huge. Why do we, such a seemingly small village, live in such a massive cave? Ah, here comes one of our clients now. See that huge dragon in the distance? They want a scrub. That is what we do. This is Spasville. And our speciality is giving even the biggest dragons a wonderful spa, complete with scale-scrub, claw-trim, wing-massage and polish! -- Anon Guest
There are technically five entrances to Boiling Mountain, and the township around the sunken cauldera's perimeter. It's not hard to find the place, either. It's the only mountain with a roof on its peak.
Everyone has seen diagrams of volcanoes, and the lava chamber in their heart. This mountain had that chamber slowly drain into a secondary lava chamber that keeps the upper cauldera piping hot. The city of Spasville is more or less picked out around the rim of all that free hot water. There are dragon-sized pools, as well as others for large, medium, small, and even tiny creatures. All are welcome here.
Hellkin, almost immune to the heat, run the steam vents and saunas. Some even dive into the literally boiling water to work maintenance. Stone constructs and elemental creatures work where they can do the most good.
Many have asked about the diamond pits that should be there for moulting Dragonkindred. Many are disappointed as they learn that the same effect can be wrought with a stiff Starmetal brush and Essence of De'toll[1]. And, of course, a large creature doing the scrubbing.
Ysyrth came in to land on the flat paved area marked as such. Magically-glowing rocks made it resemble the spine of a dragon's silhouette. Good manners put one where one was directed to be, after all. They folded their wings, of course, before proceeding through the dragon-sized portal into the cavernous depths beyond.
An illusion greeted them. A Drakkonbred, the middle-sized of the Dragonkindred, recited, "Welcome to Spasville, and thank you for arriving for your treatment early. Please state your name and your assistants will be with you shortly."
Ysyrth did as they were bade, and followed the illusion to a cavern filled with sulpherous yellow water and an eye-stinging sharpness. Ah. The hot acid bath. Just what they needed to at least loosen the last of their moult from between their scales.
Ysyrth curled up in it, only keeping their nostrils in the air. In a moment, a staffer added a clip to their nostrils that kept the stink of the pool from Ysyrth's breaths.
It would be half an hour here, before a rinse under the steaming waterfalls, and then the scrubbers would go over every last inch of Ysyrth's body. And then, the pampering would begin.
Teams on the whip-files[2] to shape and tend Ysyrth's claws. Teams in harnesses would dangle from rigging to rub special oils between their scales. Others would be shining their scutes.
Some would periodically feed them spit-roasted hogs, still sizzling from the fire pits.
And, on special platforms, other teams of artisans would work on oiling and massaging Ysyrth's wings, making every part of them supple and smooth.
Following all of that, Ysyrth would bask on some lava-heated rocks and probably doze for a solid week.
Luxury retreats like this were worth the giant gemstones they paid for it.
[1] Yes this is a reference to Billy Connolly's "Wire Brush and Dettol" routine. Look it up, you're welcome.
[2] Like a whip-saw, but with a gigantic filing plate.
[Photo by Gary Saldana on Unsplash]
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