Garbage Hill is the steep, forested slope south of the Dockway, by the Selintan, where inhabitants of the River Quarter and the wharves throw their garbage when they can’t wait for regularly scheduled pickups by the Union of Sewermen and Streetsweepers. The Directing Oligarchy has made many futile attempts to clean up the mess and stop the dumping, but this old habit has been impossible to break. The local winds usually blow from east to west, so the smell rarely bothers anyone but those living along the river. The rats here are bold and the ravens mean-tempered. The lowland marsh that once lay west of Greyhawk was long ago drained by priests and engineers for farmland, but the area still floods during heavy rains.

The hillside and riverbank south of the wharf is strewn with garbage and sewage from the city that didn’t quite make it to the river. Sometimes the end of a garbage hauler’s workday comes before he drops his last load, and so he dumps it when the bell sounds. Or perhaps a wagon breaks or a horse goes lame. Also, citizens living near the Marsh Gate often haul garbage through the gate and dump it here to be spared the rigid schedule of guild pickup.

The garbage is not so much piled here as spread thinly across a great expanse of ground. It is impossible to walk among it without begriming boots or shoes, but leggings and pantaloons are safe.

The garbage is the constant feeding ground of ravens, rats, and dogs. All of these scavengers are aggressive about their choice feeding sites. and the dogs often pack together to drive intruders out of the garbage. Of course, they don’t bother those who dump additional garbage at the cringe of the slowly growing waste.

Douglas Niles. Greyhawk Adventures, Gem of the Flanaess 1989

North Hills of Greyhawk