Saving Sage Sanguini

I was on my way to retrieve some items for Shadowstalker’s burial rites from a remote cave where he would meditate for weeks. Before I was even within a quarter mile of the cave entrance I could sense that the spirits of the dead were waiting for one to pass over into their realm. The strange thing was that they were waiting inside Shadowstalker’s meditation cave and no one had stepped foot there since his passing, The Vultures of the Rathuri-Genshur saw to it. They were called The Vultures because they were the ones that would willing interact with us of the Xecurae-Genshur. I moved towards the cave as a wolf stalks its prey, keeping all of my senses tuned to any oddities. Thank the ancestors that it was dusk, for the sun had hurt my eyes for as long as I can remember. Dergen’anhuae always told me it was an effect of the spirits of the dead allowing me to sense into their realm; that the gifts from the ancestors always carried a burden, this was required for balance so that the world of the living would not over take the world of the dead and visa versa.

Upon entering an easy shot for my hunting bow’s range, I heard and smelled what seemed to be wolves, but my instinct told me otherwise. I also heard the scared shouts of a very weak human inside trying to fend for his life. Foolish prey. I should let these creatures take you for trespassing on our sacred space or I should let them maim you before I kill them. Then I could extract why you were trespassing on our territory from you my way. Then I saw him, Shadowstalker, standing before and behind this human, beckoning me to stalk these Fell creatures. So I did. I crouched down low as I drew the short sword Shadowstalker had made for me in the tradition of his original homelands, silently as I stalked the creatures. It was the length of a shortsword, but curved and with an angled point. He designed a wolf’s head on the cap at the bottom of the handle. This was my first Fang. I used the lengthening shadows to hide my body and checking the feather tied to the cross bar for the direction of the wind, I hid my scent. As I moved in closer, these creatures never noticed. These were once wolves, but at some point in the past they became possessed by malevolent spirits. Within the Burnduanthi we called them Vulaszer’gerharn or in the Common tongue Worgs. I was now within striking distance behind them and I lunged. Throwing one of the throwing stars Shadowstalker trained me in at the one closest to the human, landing it directly in its left eye while I slashed at the back of the head of the Vulaszer’gerharn closest to me. This one turned its head towards me as I slashed so Fang could bite its neck. This creature collapsed onto the cave floor bleeding out like some weak prey and the second one howled in pain as it turned to face me directly.

I could have easily struck out at this creature before it snapped at me, but that would have left me in a position of being pinned between it and the cave wall. That is the choice of a raging wild boar, not a keen hunter like Deathwolf. I watched this creature’s muscles and feet as we danced the dance of hunter and prey, each waiting for a weakness to be exposed. This creature was more intelligent than the others I had faced, but it was still just prey. I saw this one’s weakness, he always exposed his heart right after a lunge by lifting his head just a little as it backed away or twisted to one side. All I had to do to end this dance as the hunter is to trick it into lunging and then sliding backwards while faking a fall and stabbing up into its heart. This would be easy and safe because there was enough of an elevation difference at the cave mouth that even if I missed, this creature would jump over me, and then would be outside of the cave. Much better hunting ground. Two more feet back and I would be in position, one more foot, and now I am in position. I make my feint and this creature is pulled into my trap. I tuck into the depression at the cave mouth and thrust up. I miss the heart shot, but manage to connect just past its rib cage so as the creature sailed over my spot, Fang cut right into the creature’s intestines. The intestines spilled out in a steamy pile just at my feet and sprinkling its blood on me like the beginning of a rain storm.

Both creatures were whimpering the whines of death, so I spoke the words of thankfulness to my ancestors and to the spirits of the animals, praising the wolves that once were for their honorable dance. Then I buried Fang into the base of their skull ending the suffering of the creatures. I pulled the bodies deeper into the cave mouth and piled them together. The hides were still in great shape and would make excellent clothing. The human just stood there shivering with its staff extended in my direction, not knowing how to react, that if I was its chance savior or another beast here to kill it. I heard a sound and turned to face the direction it came from, there was Shadowstalker again. Our eyes connected and then he bowed and faded away. The smell of blood was thick in the air within the cave and it was making me hungry. I easily pushed the feeling away, this time, as eating from the flesh of those creatures would at a minimum turn me into a Qunar and at worst, one of them.

I went into the small stash of food Shadowstalker kept here and retrieved the food and water that was stored there. I took it over to the human intruder and dropped it at his feet. He then slowly lowered his staff and tried to speak. Eventually he muttered, “Thank you. My name is Sage Sanguini. Sage Julian Sanguini.”

Raw Writing: Attack on Home of Sun’s Bounty

There was a loud screaming coming just outside the village’s walls. It sounded like another village itself was on the hunt for a monster, one they thought that was hiding in this little village. Quickly the warriors of Home of Sun’s Bounty armed themselves and went to meet the mob head on. Unsheathing their weapons Chastity, Cairn, and Rori’El headed in the direction of the mob too. When they saw what was about to take place all three just reacted.

Chastity reacted first, quickly pulling some throwing knives from within her clothing, she tossed them at two people that appeared to be leaders in the mob. One of the knives penetrated a man’s throat so deep, the point of the blade barely poked through the other side of his neck. The second man she threw at got two of the aerial blades in the chest, each puncturing a lung. The sound of blood filling this man’s lungs was lost in the chaos and screaming of battle.

As the two forces collided at the village’s main gate, Cairn and Rori’El hustled directly into the middle of the field, holding the center of the village’s forces with their combined martial prowess. Cairn was brutal with his thrusts and cuts, causing as much blood spray and exposed inner flesh as he could. Contrasted by the cold and calculated piercing thrusts and solid slashes of Rori’El. It was like Fire and Ice fighting side by side to protect the villagers from the sudden attack.

Calling out to a well dressed man in the back of the mob, Chastity said, “You seem to be in charge, why are you here?”

This man was dressed like some mid-range merchant of spices and black market drugs. His clothes designed to accentuate features that were non-existent in this man and were an attempted at looking rich. He came across as a self-focused jerk that was more appearance and no substance at all. Chastity knew she could get him to talk, this would almost be to easy for her.

“To kill the demons that reside in this town!” he yelled back. He did this as he looked at the mob before him, seeming to speak to them more than her. This brought forth a cheer from the mob.

When this man looked up again all he saw where two throwing spikes bee-lining for him and struck home. One in his right calf and the other in his left knee. Exactly what she wanted, someone to interrogate later.

The attacker’s numbers were greater, but the training was better for the villagers. In just a matter of minutes most of the mob was killed or bleeding to death and the villagers had only lost a small few. Chastity was not the only one to take a captive, it seems that Rori’El had gotten that last guy standing to yield and Cairn himself even managed to knock someone out rather than killing him.

Chastity looked over at Cairn with a small look of shock on her face. He just shrugged his shoulders, made a small grunt-like sound, and said, “What? I needed someone to practice some new interrogating techniques I had a dream about last night.” She just rolled her eyes and everyone started making their way back to the long hall.

Raw Writing: Exodus of Trust

Packing up again, Josi got lost in her thoughts. Playing through her mind about how often she moves, how often she can’t find a place to stay. A place full of encouragement, full of stability, and a smell of family. Yet she continues to go from one place to the next with barely enough time to rest in between each move. She also starts to remember the stories her grandma read to her about the tribe of Israel being led around in the wilderness by the smoke and fire of the Lord. This left her wondering if she was on some kind of exodus herself, an exodus away from the pain and traps of the past. An exodus of trust.

Putting the book that she was reading in the last empty space in her back pack, she zipped up the pocket, and loaded up the pack on her back. Removing the key from the ring it was kept on, she set it on the desk by the door as it closed behind her. Walking to the small hatchback car and putting her pack in the back, her head was hung low. Not in shame, but from the burden of constantly moving. She was just a simple woman trying to step beyond the place she was born. To rise above poverty, rise above being a victim, to rise above being someone’s pawn. This road was not easy as she found out, but a spark deep inside of her would not let her give up, ever.

Closing the hatch then getting the car started, she finally broke down in tears. As the fountain slowed Josi put her car into drive and pulled away from the curb. She headed to a friends house that would let her stay for two weeks while she looked for another place. She wasn’t please about this arrangement, this friend was an addict, and had lots of strange people and strangers in and out a lot. She didn’t have anywhere to turn though. Fighting off the hopelessness trying to settle over her, she started thinking about how she had less than six months left before she received a college degree. The first in her family ever to be a college graduate and the first to move away from the small town trapped in their own victimization.

She turned on the radio to hear a new song, “the sadness, the madness, the bash it, the lavish, the fastest, the clashes, the ashes to ashes, everything intertwined, my femme fatale my darling fraudulent angel, once caught her changing the batteries in her halo, receipt for her wings and everything that she paid for, and the address to the factory where they made those…” It caught her attention, but then she looked out into the mist of early morning and tried to find the images of her future hiding somewhere just beyond her vision, buried in the fog.

Raw Writing: Imminent Betrayal

Bang! and a cloud of smoke filled his vision. Once his field of vision was cleared, he looked down his barrel at where he was aiming. The elk lay dead not more than 300 paces down hill, it instantly died when the bullet pierced it’s heart. Waiting a few minutes before moving he made his way down to his kill. Kneeling down, touching the creatures neck to confirm that it was indeed dead, he bowed his head.

He spoke just louder than speaking under his breath, “God, thank you for this creature’s sacrifice. Through Your provision food will be in stomach, skin is provided for clothing, and the excess so that Your children may share in this bounty. Your grace is appreciated.”

At this he started field dressing his kill and setting aside this animals heart in a special pouch made from a bladder. When he was done, he whistled loudly, and then the sound of another large animal moving through the brush was heard. After a few minutes a one horse complete with tack and saddle broke into view and came straight up to him.

“Good boy Johnathan.” He said as he grabbed the horses reigns and pet the horses’ muzzle. The horse let out a small whiny showing its approval and stood very obediently as he loaded up the kill in the special bags on the back of the horse. He then went around cutting branches off of a tree after some close inspection and the pulled a large bag from underneath the horses’ saddle. Using these pieces the man made a quick gurney, attached it to the back of the saddle behind the horse, and wrapped the remainder of the elks’ body in the large bag. Once he mounted and started making his way out of the small ravine, a scent and a sound caught his attention.

He quickly reloaded the magazine in his rifle, checked to make sure his six-shooter was full of rounds, and double checked the large knife tucked in his boot. He recognized the smell, only one person would smoke tobacco mixed with cloves, and be out here.

From up ahead a rough voice spoke up, “David Johnson? I feel lucky to have encountered you. Its like the fates conspired for us to cross paths again.”

“Or was it more like that unfaithful woman you call a wife?” responded David with just a tinge of bitterness.

The man up ahead chuckled loudly, “You still upset about her? She made her decision and you just have to deal with it. Now we have business to discuss.” Just then a man that looked like what a wild pig might if had started to walk upright broke through the tree line into the small clearing.

“What business would that be? Anything we had was cleared up back in Silvertown.” Responded David, calming himself down in the process. Silvertown always brought a little smile to his face.

Scratching the scar over his right eye, this rough pig-man grew a sour expression on his face. “Yah. Well this is new business. I am not here to fight, as much as I would like another chance at you. This is about that unfaithful woman you mentioned earlier.”

“Why should I care about her anymore, Jonas?” asked David a bit more coldly than anticipated.

After a few moments of thought and a sigh Jonas seemed to drop his guard, “Because she done and got herself all wrapped up with Major Wolf Creek.”

“What did she do to get wrapped up with his rotten hide?” David asked.

Quickly twisting his body to the left and firing is rifle one-handed, a man in the brush screamed out in pain. He fell into the the clearing, dropping a pistol, and grabbing his knee in an attempt to stop the bleeding. He then pointed it at Jonas drawing bead right between his two beady eyes. With death on a pale horse behind his eyes David spoke to Jonas, “Now answer my questions or you will end up as food for the racoons out here and so will your cousins about 20 paces to my right.”

“Boys, swing around behind me. Holster your heat. Then come out so David can see ya. I mean everyone Francis!” yelled Jonas. After about a minute Jonas’ other two cousins came into view, hands visible, and pistols holstered.

“Well… it is because she went to take care of some business I had with him.” Spoke up Jonas, a little nervousness in his voice now.

Just then Johnathan started dancing around nervously and moving his head to the left. In just a few moments David saw one of Major Wolf Creek’s men fall into the clearing with a crude knife buried into the back of his skull. Just after this no less that 15 Crow tribesmen, painted in black and white, stepped into the clearing. One of them spoke up, “Brother Storm Crow these men were going to betray you.”

David had turned to look at the tribesman speaker and without turning back to look at Jonas he squeezed the trigger and added one more dead body to this small clearing.

Raw Writing: Garden of Souls

They were surprised by the sight before them as they crested the top of the hill. Before them was a ziggurat they knew was over one millennium old, yet the stones showed no sign of age. The onyx base stones bordered by some solid white stone only caused the painted designs on each level to stand out even more. Towering into the sky, the sacrificial chamber at the top gleamed with an unearthly light as the light of the dual stars broke the horizon. Spreading a blue and green hue over the entire landscape and every so briefly the group thought they caught a glimpse of people walking in the scattered rays of light. This was the place they had sought after, known simply as the Garden of Souls.

Legends and myths had held that this one place was an entry point into the underworld, where the living could descend and the spirits could rise. Each story had different accounts on how each one, the living and the dead, could cross this boundary, but the common thread was having an audience with the Underkeeper. Nobody knew exactly knew what the Underkeeper looked like or exactly if he was some spirit, some god, or some long lost entity that has been since before the planet was created.

The group was about to find out the answers to all of these questions. If there were ever able to share the answers with other people would be an unknown, at least until the mission was accomplished. The reason this group was at the Garden of Souls was a mystery to most of them except one. The rest had been told stories of fortunes, making amends with lost loves and mistaken enemies, and answers from the wisdom of lost scholars. This one who gathered everyone had one motivation that made all the others pointless, loyalty to a loved one.

This one was destined to be a great king, bringing about a religious and cultural renaissance for his people. In this destiny though the destined king had lost a man whom had become closer than his blood brothers. They shared a love between each other than never included lust, but went to a deep connection that only brothers of the soul could share. They were here to bring this brother back for the Underworld to resist their mutual enemy, the dead man’s father.

Raw Writing: The Brothers Silverwind Carnival and Circus

He was hungry as he had done more than three days without eating. Dom was starting to get desperate when he saw an airship fly into the docking tower. While airships docking were not that uncommon of a sight, but it was the words brightly illuminated on the side. The Brothers Silverwind Carnival and Circus. Dom knew that his chance came not only to eat, but to get out of this city. His wanderlust was starting to make him feel discontent and now he had a chance to run away with the circus. He didn’t know this circus from any other, but they had their own airship, “They much have some serious coinage,” thought Dom.

He realized that he had spoke this out loud when a passerby said, “Who are you talking about son?”

Dom had no reason to lie or hide anything this time, so he spoke the truth, “The circus that just docked at the tower. How many traveling circuses have their own airship?”

“Oh is that what it says on the side. My sight has been getting worse over the past few years. You are right, a circus with their own airship has some serious coinage. I will be taking my grandchildren to this for sure.” Responded the friendly man as he handed Dom two Kingdom coins. This really surprised Dom as this would allow him to eat for the next month. Yet he hesitated, the dream of the circus had pushed off the feelings of hunger, then he decided. He would buy a ticket into the circus and then use the change to buy some food.

He quickly made his way to the docking tower and shadowed the circus people until he found where they were setting up. The he found a place he could hide well and watch everything unfold. The unique piece of this show including some cats that looked like black jaguars, yet a little hazy. This act was a mock fight showing the taming prowess of the handler. What caught people’s attention was that trying to strike these cats was like trying to spear a fish in water. Somehow the cats were able to displace their actual location, either through some magic or some trick with the light and their fur. Either way Dom now wanted one for his personal collection, at least when he made it big.

One day passed before the circus itself was open to accept people into its trappings of games and curiosities. It was the thrum of a small crowd that woke Dom from his sleep, still in his hiding spot. Standing up Dom took the time to alter his appearance to look like a young boy on the verge of adulthood. After stretching and finding a spot to relieve himself, he made his way to the ticket booth. “One ticket for me please,” asked Dom from the gentle looking Orcish looking man in the ticket booth.

“Three Kingdoms young man.” This man said as he extended his hand.

“Fuck! Three Kingdom coins! That’s like my allowance for the entire month.” Acting irritated responded Dom.

“Hey kid, with that you get a voucher for two free rides on any of the carnival rides and this hat that lets you see the hidden items in the scavenger hunt. Don’t you know who we are?” Patiently spoke the Orcish man.

“No I don’t. I just saw you dock and to come see. I recently just moved to this city to live with my grandparents since my parents were killed by some ‘creatures of the night’ or so I was told.” Responded Dom making his voice tinged with sorrow.

“Sorry to hear that kid. How much do you have on you?” questioned the ticket booth man.

“Just two Kingdoms.” Dom answered as he showed both of his coins. While inside his head he was starting to understand how one lie in the middle of truthful statements make stories so much easier for people to believe.

“Give those to me kid and I will let you with the same voucher and hat. The scavenger hunt has no clues or maps. You just have to wear the hat and pick up as many items as you can find. Five hours before we leave we gather everyone who wants a chance at winning and see who found the most. The winner then gets a special prize. Each event is different and nobody knows what it is until we pick a winner. Only one person has every found all the items. For everyone that finds all the items you get enough free passes to get you into our show for an entire season. Good luck, kid. Oh, and if you need a bag to put all your items in you can buy them over by the food vendors.” The ticket booth made said with a large smile.

Dom got his ticket, stepped into the show of The Brothers Silverwind, and into what he hoped was his destiny

Simple in a World of High Tech

“..I’m not suicidal, I just can’t get out of bed, i drift into a deep fog lost where, I forgot to hold it, I can feel you most when I’m alone, I can feel your ghost when I’m alone…” came blaring through my headphones as I sat staring out the window. Images of happiness and blowing wind on the beach fill my mind as I watch the couples holding hands moving down the street. Picking up my paper and pulling out a notebook from my backpack, the people started to stare at me with judgment in their eyes. Overhearing a conversation shift topics close to me, “Do you see that girl? Those things are so archaic, she is probably one of those Neo-Luddist fanatics or some modern Quaker.”

Their very conversation showed them the ignorant fools they are, failing to recognize that in order to be one of those peoples I would not even my digital music player or these cheap ear buds. After that one verbal comment, they turned back to their tablet computers and started giggling over their game or chat conversation. It still amazes me these days that despite the technology, the access to information, and the ability to stay in communication with others, we as a society, a people group, have grown even more distant. It is like the distance each packet takes through the internet to travel one and half feet across a table is truly how far each of those people are from each other. Not only that, but the people that don’t readily accept this technology or stay on the cutting edge are somehow less of a person. It reminds me of a very old article from when the U.S. was still the United States. It was titled The Lottery and in the end someone gets stoned for tradition. Every time I pull out my pen or pencil and notebook I feel the stones of judgment being cast from the technophiles around me. Few, if any, every bother to engage me in conversation and instead go back to being content and entertained by some flashy version of Scrabble.

Pushing aside the thoughts of these ignorant fools, I start to scribble away in my notebook. My current project is that of a comic book. In this book all of the heroes and heroines are human, yet have an extraordinary gift in some regards. One is an exceptional librarian, another is an exceptional computer scientist, and the one modeled after me is a writer. These three together battle villains and evil-doers through not only educating the people this villain’s effect on them, but also by bringing things to life. For example, the librarian does all the research and background for a device to counteract a villains ability to read minds and then mold his propaganda. Then the writer writes our a description and uses for it either in story form or as a technical paper. The computer scientist then works up a sample prototype electronically, then makes a list of components they would need. At about that time each piece of work starts to glow and float, they start rotating like caught in a tornado, and after a bright flash of light the device has suddenly appeared.

I understand that this comic may appeal to very few as I write and draw it as some academia citizen, but this is more for me clearing out my thoughts and ideas. Through this comic though I have one wish on its effect to the culture around me, that can be summed up by a phrase my uncle used to speak all the time. “If you help to change one person, then you have already changed a world.” When I got old enough to ask why he explained to me that even though all of us humans live in a world on the planet we call Earth, each person has the world they live in daily. One person may have grown up in a war torn country and another grew up rich and privileged household. Each person’s view and therefore their personal world is shaped by their paradigms, perceptions, and choices. Each is personal, emotional, and beautifully unique. My uncle is the one that helped me embrace the simpler things of life as he believed we can each only appreciate beauty in its simplicity.

Raw Writing: Cairn the Bounty Hunter

Stepping out into the light was the guy they had been watching. He came into town like he owned the place on a large and imposing horse. The wide-brimmed hat this stranger wore seemed to cast a perpetual shadow over his face, yet his eyes seemed to glow with an arcane light. The sheriff had put his friends on watching this guy in case trouble stirred, he couldn’t do it officially without raising this stranger’s suspicion. He went into the pub, wiping and beating the grime of the road off of his road cloak and boots before entering. A squirrel-like man crossed the street and entered next in time to hear the stranger order two shots of whiskey. The squirrel-like man walked up to the innkeeper and spoke, “A lager in a cold mug Winston.”

This brought a small snicker from the stranger as he downed his two shots in rapid succession. The lager drinker spoke up, “What’s so funny stranger?”

“Where I come from only the women drink from chilled mugs.” The stranger replied with a hint of smugness.

“Ha. In my family only the children made weak and snide remarks to the drinking habits of another.” Replied quickly the squirrel-like man all the while taking a drink of his lager.

The stranger then busted out in laughter, slapped the squirrelly man on his back, and said, “I like you. You have balls to reply like that. I will buy you your next round.” He then extended his hand and said, “My name is Cairn of Bloodwrath.”

The squirrelly man shook his hand in return, “Mine is Victor of my mother. May the women you see scream as loudly as the men you hunt.”

This brought forth another boisterous fit of laughter from Cairn. “How did you know that I am a hunter of men?” asked Cairn.

“You still have the grime of the road and blood stains on your outer garments. The soles of your boots are worn down on the outside and your purse jingles with the sound of new coin. You came to the pub first and the pub with a brothel attached to it. You ordered whiskey, a drink of a man with a bit harder life, and your horse is bred and maintains the scars of battle. Plus I am aware that there is a rumor of a highly wanted man hiding in our town. We have seen bounty hunters come and go over the past month. None have found this rumored man yet. It seems none have found him yet as one more has come into this town in search of the rather large reward the Yeoman of the county has placed on this man’s capture. Alive only if I remember correctly?” The squirrelly man responded as a philosophical scholar would a student.

“Quite observant Victor, you have an eye for detail. If I bothered to care I would ask you what you do for this town. Although I have learned something of this man you speak, he likes to taunt his hunters in the open. He then writes out his success in poetry and then has different newspaper in major cities publish them. He is careful to never have the same paper publish one of his poems to close in time to each other.” At this Cairn pulls out a stack of papers with each poem circled on each paper and sets them down next to the Victor.

“Seems like you have done your research and you may be the one to actually catch me. Let’s see how much you actually learned.” At this Victor grabbed the back of his cloak, quickly drew it in front of his body like a stage magician, and then vanished in a puff of smoke.

Raw Writing: Dom’s Gift

Staring down into the nest the size of a small hut Dom grew ever more angry. He saw three bodies lying there motionless while the harpies ate the flesh. These human children could not have been any older than a toddler and here these demons were using them like a night out on the town. The time was coming close for Dom to make sure they never feasted on another living soul again. Before the children had died, like a thief in the night, Dom made his way into that nest and gave the children a alchemical supplement he picked up from a gypsy fortune teller. The children would feel no pain over the next few hours and would fall asleep into peaceful dreams. So would anyone that consumed their flesh and blood while it was still working. The harpies saw the sleeping children as some gift from the demon they worshiped. No need to fight or hear the screams of terror tonight. A peaceful meal they thought, a peaceful meal for all very soon. Dom watched carefully as they started to fall asleep one by one, until all three of them were asleep.

Once the harpies were asleep Dom carefully made his way back to the nest. As he stepped down into it he withdrew his sword from the sheath in the small of his back. He had spent all day sharpening it just for these few moments. He also pulled out a handful of small torches that only need a quick strike on a rough surface to ignite. He went to work quickly severing the wings and then using the torches to cauterize the wounds before blood filled the nest. What blood did spill he covered up with branches and leaves, leaving no trace that anything had happened. As each wing was severed, Dom threw it over the side of the nest. Now the dangerous part of his plan was about to be set in motion. Dom went around the edge of the nest near where it was anchored into the surrounding rock looking for a thick root protruding out. He found it and tied his silken rope to it, then tied the rope around his waist. He then pulled out some thespian make-up and colored the rope to match his clothes. Now that it was very difficult to notice the rope he moved to the edge of the nest that hung out over the rock face. He pulled the large rocks out of his pouch and started throwing them at the harpies. Luckily it took only one throw per each harpy before they were awake. Not from the pain, but the head shots knocking them out of their sleep.
“Hey you winged witches! You will not eat anyone else ever again! I am here as your executioner prepare to die!” screamed Dom.

Each harpy started to like like a cackling witch and made there way towards him, “You are very stupid young human for you will be our desert tonight.” Just then they leaped at him. Dom dove off of the edge of the nest and they followed, trusting their wings to catch air so they could glide off. As each tried to flap and their wings didn’t respond they looked back and saw that their wings had been cut off. Dom was the one laughing, hanging freely underneath the nest, as he listened to the screams of horror from the harpies as they descended down the mountain approaching a swift death.

Dom carefully made his way back down this mountain and searched around it’s base until he found the bodies of the harpies. He removed each head from the bodies and put one each in a box that he had made for this occasion. He waited till nightfall and made his way back towards the small village that had been his home these past two years. One box was placed at each of the three entrances leading into this village. When the villagers awoke in the morning the boxes were found and gathered at the elder’s hall. The cheers and tears raised in volume as each box was opened revealing the heads of the harpies that had plagued this village for so long. Underneath each head was a name and everyone knew the names. It was the names of the missing child and the parents that took in Dom. The very parents the village had recently killed and attempted to do the same to Dom. He left the village with a greater gift than the people that took him in ever did, peace and hope.

GE217 Proposal Paper: Where is Our Theseus? Cry Non-Profit Organizations

Along time ago in a land not so far away was a man named Theseus. This man was a prince and was fated to accomplish great things; he proclaimed that not only was he a son of a great king, but also the son of Poseidon. His father’s kingdom was indebted to the neighboring kingdom of Minos. The king of Minos required people on a yearly basis to enter a great maze constructed by a great architect and these people were fated to die by the beast that was hidden at the center of this maze. Shortly after Theseus arrived with a sword his father had hidden for him to prove his royal heritage, Theseus volunteered to be one of the ones for the sacrifice. Before Theseus had entered the maze he gained the favor of the princess of Minos and she gave him a thread to use to find his way out of the maze if he survived the Minotaur. Now armed with his clue on escape, Theseus entered the maze and found his way to the Minotaur and defeated this beast. Using this thread he found his way out and furthered his exploits as a hero becoming the victor over the unholy union of a bull and a woman, the famed Minotaur.

Today many people, businesses, governments, and non-profit companies face mazes. They all have a Minotaur of their own buried in their respective mazes and many have no clue, no thread, to find a way out of the maze if somehow they were to manage to defeat their own Minotaur. Some Minotaurs includes things like regulations, overwhelming competition, espionage, unscrupulous people, and the biggest one of all, lack of funding. The mazes include such things how to gain funding, what paperwork needs to be filled out to get started or expand, who to employ or put on a governing board, or what niche should each organization fill in a given community. If somehow an organization finds a way to navigate a maze, face the Minotaur at the center of that maze, they are not equipped to defeat it in any way. In the 33 years from 1970 to 2003 only 150 non-profit companies surpassed more than $50 million in annual revenue (not counting hospitals and universities). (Foster, Kim, Christiansen) The organizations that are equipped and manage to defeat then get lost in the maze trying to find their way out back into the light of day as a victor. The ones that do make it out become giants in their own industry and some even become a Minotaur for other organizations as they try to figure out their own maze. The question then becomes, how does someone or a group of people overcome? Should they even try?

The answer for non-profit companies is an absolute yes. There is a maze, there is a Minotaur, there is a thread, and there is a hero. The biggest Minotaur that all non-profits face is the lack of funding and the maze they must navigate is how to receive sufficient funding to stay operational. In the Stanford Social Innovation Review authors William Landes Foster, Peter Kim, and Barbara Christiansen write, “That’s because nonprofit leaders are much more sophisticated about creating programs than they are about funding their organizations, and philanthropists often struggle to understand the impact (and limitations) of their donations.” () In light of this statement David Ticoll, an author for The Strategist wrote this statement in an article, “By definition, most charities are perpetually at risk: They could vanish in the absence of annual fundraisers and committed donors. “ ()  This is what happens when many find the Minotaur at the center of the maze. Yet this is not the only way the Minotaur can kill the non-profit organization.

In America there are budget cuts coming happening at legislative levels as the government is trying to pull itself out of an astronomical debt. On the cutting block of these budget cuts is funding for non-profit organizations bringing despair to many of them. This especially affects non-profits as many depend almost entirely upon governmental funding. In the Leaf Chronicle the writer writes about a city council meeting that only show to reflect what is happening across the nation in many similar meetings, “Funding for non-profits has been a sore subject during the council’s hearings each of the last two years.” () In light of this many non-profit organizations are starting to look at for profit business models for an answer.

There is still yet another turn in the maze when considering this approach for the non-profit organization. Will the adoption of a for-profit business model compromise the original mission of helping people in favor of gaining money to provide the service? Establishing an organization as a non-profit means the founders are philanthropists and risk losing the soul of the organization in pursuing this option. While these models are proven to work at raising capital by the mere fact of successful businesses currently operating, it is clearly an option worth considering for the founders.

Non-profit organizations are also trying to raise more donations to offset the financial crisis, but as the financial crisis is also affecting the citizens enormously thereby making them less likely to donate. So where can the non-profits turn for help or what other options can non-profit organizations explore for funding. The answer in this proposal is an entirely new business model that embraces both a for-profit model and a non-profit model at the same time. How can this be achieved one may ask? The donation of net profits is the answer.

A real basic overview of the model is easiest to explain using an example that is currently in the building stage. The Oregon Public House is a grassroots non-profit organization embracing this model. Based in the Woodlawn neighborhood of Portland, Oregon The Oregon Public House is a non-profit brew pub. Yes there is a way to combine beer, philanthropy, and communal cooperation. Aiming to open at the end of springtime The Oregon Public will be donating 100% of their net-profits to charities. How they have planned for this to work is only with a slight tweak to what any person experiences when they enter a pub. When a person enters The Oregon Public House they will be presented with three menus, one for food, one for beer and wine, and a third with a list of charities. When a person orders whatever charity they choose will be the one that receives the net profits from whatever they purchase during their visit to The Oregon Public House. Since The Oregon Public House is a 501 (c) 3 non-profit, purchases from them are also tax deductible. The Oregon Public House has really stepped what they are presenting by not just picking small local charities, but working with other charities that provide essential social services in the Portland area.  Currently there are seven charities starting with the Dougy Center and including The Mentoring Project, Habitat for Humanity, the Oregon Food Bank, Compassion First, Friends of Trees, and the Mercy Corps. They also have plans to have a charity of the month that will rotate. While this all sounds good, what could this potentially mean for both the business adopting this model and the charities that will benefit from it?

The Oregon Public House is not the only embracing this idea though. Though out the nation other organizations are embracing this idea as, “WeGotIn.Net just recently announced its plans of donating all of its profits to fund college scholarships. This unveiled plan will serve well its purpose to help level the playing field for underprivileged students who are opting to gain college admissions in highly selective schools. This new policy is expected to propel them forward into achieving their mission, upon which the organization was founded.” This is a sure sign of a hopeful future for all of the other non-profit organizations sailing through a funding crisis.

Aside from donating all their profits for raising college scholarship funds, the founder also said that the company is considering other ways to fulfill their mission of leveling the field for college admissions.

First off this would bring much needed more revenue to the charities involved. As businesses start to adopt this model more and more charities will receive a consistent stream revenue which allow the organization to focus more on its original mission and less on funding. This will also help to offset any loss that would come from governmental cutbacks in grants for non-profit organizations. In turn if these charities are less reliant on governmental funding then those resources can be reallocated to other areas within the government that are also feeling the financial pinch. Most importantly is that this will allow each non-profit organization able to focus on its mission and free up resources currently used for funding.  For the business using this model there it is likely that just by advertising that this is model they are using more persons would be inclined to use that business rather than some competitor. As not only would the person be getting whatever service or product they would normally use, they would also know that charities were benefiting through their actions. Over all this would enhance the sense of community that each individual would have not just with their local community, but a more national one also as each little decision helps people they will never meet.

In closing let’s bring this back to the story of Theseus and the Minotaur. A starting or new non-profit organization is a sacrifice on the ship sailing to Minos. On the long trip to the island they hear the stories about the maze and the Minotaur. The stories only heighten the fear of the sacrificial people as they sail and begin to show the anxiety externally. The maze of how to achieve funding is what awaits them on the island and that many have perished in just trying to navigate this maze. These organizations also know for that the ones that make it to the center of this maze come face to face with the Minotaur of a lack of funding. Many more perish here as they are not able to overcome this unholy beast. On this ship though contained Theseus, a business model that takes its net profits and donates it to other charities. This hero is armed with the thread of sustained funding outside of normal funding so that once this hero overcomes the Minotaur of no funding he is able to guide people out of the maze and the sword of an incorporated business model that shows the hero’s royal heritage. Once the Minotaur is slain no more sacrifices will be needed and the non-profit organization will be able to pursue its original mission, to enrich the community in which it is focused. With the guidance of this Theseus any maze of funding can be navigated, the Minotaur slain, and the thread of hope to find the way out again. Share net profits and become a part of this hero as non-profit organizations embrace the hope of the future.