Well, I can’t really go back all that far. My memory gets a little fuzzy when I think back to the old days. . . I do know that the area near the lake was run by some uppity feudal lord a long time ago. He built a keep, which currently houses the Garrison’s men. There are also a couple of old fences in the cairn hills where he tried to get his farming subjects to grow carrots and potatoes. I wonder how many of the idiot’s subjects starved to death!
Well, his sons started exploring the cairns and old gravesites that litter this whole area. I guess they found quite a bit of loot from the olden days . . . and I don’t mean 50 years ago. I mean really old days. Hundreds of years ago.
Anyway, all this loot attracted the attention of Greyhawk, and pretty soon they bought off the noble kids and annexed this whole area for themselves. They hired a group of adventurers to explore it all, and sucked every last treasure dry from those old tombs.
That would have been the end of Diamond Lake, except prospectors and surveyors came in and took measure of the land. It’s still s*$# for growing anything but weeds, but wouldn’t you know they discovered a massive cache of silver lodes and massive veins of iron under the hills, including the one we’re sitting on right now?
Now, years and years later, it’s said that that we’re the cornerstone of Greyhawk’s ore supply. Not like they’d pass any of that wealth onto common laborers like us, you understand. When I was a kid, getting a meal was as easily as casting a line in the Lake. Now, the smelting house and associated runoff has polluted the water so much, the merchants have to send off to Greyhawk just to get a week-old, salted flounder.
As far as recent history goes, there ain’t much to tell . . . honest folk are still getting screwed and the wealthy are still getting richer off of our sweat. Let’s see. . .
There’s an old ring of stones out in the boonies, called the Menhirs. It’s visited by Rangers, Druids, and other freeloaders. No one knows who built it, but they say the worn stone have been there for centuries.
The Old Observatory used to be a haven to some scholarly Monks, who used to prance about and read off astrology. They packed up shop when I was just a kid, and since then it’s pretty much sat abandoned.
Then, of course, about 19 years ago, a pretty bad plague called the Red Death swept through and killed a good many of us. I lost my sister to the Boneyard, and me son’s still got vapors and can’t make a living. I even had it myself, but it’s weren’t too bad on me. I did get a pretty lumpy scar from it on the back o’ my head though. You wanna see it?
No? Ah well. . .
