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Message: <blockquote data-quote="SolidSnake_01" data-source="post: 7503006" data-attributes="member: 63254">Gray Fox Journal: IntroductionsIt has been a long time since I have put my thoughts to paper. Some of my instructors counseled me during interrogation training that it was a risk to do so. That your thoughts, once they leave your mind, can be used against you. Except for the Boss. I mean Jade. That is her name after all. For some reason, she was the only one who did not believe that. She told me one day after dismissing class that writing down your feelings can stave off the madness only soldiers come to know. A sickness that endless war infects us with. I haven’t written anything down since my training for fear that it would fall into the wrong hands. How ironic that such fears were so misplaced. I ended up divulging my past freely to the first person that showed me kindness, and now many of my brothers have suffered for it. But let us not dwell on the past, I want to look toward the future. A future where decent men are not used as pawns in the Great Game. The strong do what they will and the weak suffer what they must. I want to change that, but I am going to need some help. And money...lots of it.Which brings us to the here and now. I’ve done my best to avoid detection for as long as I can, even moving to the bustling metropolis of Greyhawk. My hopes are to recruit candidates from the Champion’s Games. Though “civilized” in nature, I know all too well the formula for contests such as these. Bodies are broken and spirits are shattered. Purpose is usually lost in the process. It is from these individuals that I need to determine whether they can rise again. Instill in them meaning and help them see the greater picture. The War Dogs are finished, but I am not.Any successful organization will need a base of operations. I have managed to secure a hostel down in the Slum Quarter. The location puts it in close proximity to the Southern Gate and far enough away from the Thieves Quarter to avoid further taxation. Though the building is quite dilapidated, I was not able to buy it outright. The owner, a member of the Council of Greyhawk, has agreed to rent to me at a “fair” market price. He is leveraging the influx of visitors to inflate the price. A very clever man this Thran Chozik is. He would probably be able to sell snow to a frost giant. Though with men like these, money is not everything. I knew at some point my skill would be utilized and so I too did some bargaining of my own. It seems like his sister has been missing for some time, a point that triggers deep emotions. He has hired me to look into her disappearance, reducing the rent I would have to otherwise pay him. Clearly this was important to him. So important that he could not wait for my report. He has engaged a separate group to perform a similar task. These individuals are brave, but not subtle. In the short time they have been in Greyhawk, they have set political institutions ablaze with their discoveries. Exposing a changeling cabal within the government of Greyhawk is a recipe for civil war. I would know, I used to do this type of work.Nevertheless, I continued my work and came to one inescapable conclusion: Loris Raknian was likely responsible for Lahaka’s disappearance. In my profession, proof is not necessary. I suggested an elegant solution to Councilman Chozik’s problems, but he declined. He said that other individuals were already looking into Loris’ wrongdoing and that he would pay for his crimes in a public forum. I imagine it is that same group that exposed the changelings. Initially I was intrigued to see what they would be able to uncover, but that feeling quickly evaporated once wights came pouring out of the arena. Reports are conflicting, but it would seem that a giant worm erupted from the arena floor and consumed last year’s champions. A few individuals that survived describe a green wave of energy that emanated from the monster and transformed living spectators into an undead horde. Predictably, the higher quarters sealed themselves off quickly, forcing the problem south. I had to take care of a few of these things myself before the priests finally arrived to dispel them into the sewers. I am very sure that this problem has not been completely eradicated. On a positive note, the hostel is still intact and one of the young men I saved was so grateful for my intervention that he has pledged to come work for me. His name is Keth and he is a hard worker. I have promoted him to manager of the “Fox and the Hound.” I know, there is a bit of irony in the name but it felt right. Gray Fox and his Dogs of War.</blockquote>

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