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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1548998-Legend-of-the-Gordon-Rule-Requirement
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Folklore · #1548998
The 'why' of FSU's Gordon Rule writing requitement in traditional myth form.
Chief Wetherell addressed the Nolesemi people with the news of his son’s death upon the return of Terre and Lune. Then he proclaimed, “I have created a rule which applies to all Nolesemi’s of this generation onward; in memory of my son, Gordon, the finest warrior in all the land, and his passion for writing, you shall each write three thousand, three hundred, thirty three and one-third words as Gordon’s portion of the would-be adventure tale.” And so it is.

Along the Bradford Lake, in the valley of Tally, lived the Nolesemi people ruled by Chief Wetherell. During the festival of colored leaves, the first of the Chief’s sons was born and given the name of Prince Gordon. As a boy, Gordon trained to be his father’s greatest dream; the finest warrior the mortal world had ever known. After completing each day of rigorous athletic instruction, Gordon would spend his time writing tales of great adventure.

On the culmination of the twentieth birthday of Terre and Lune, youngest sons of Wetherell, Gordon presented his father with his first detailed work of fiction. It was rumored that the piece was so bizarre and distasteful to the Chief that a fortnight later, Gordon and his brothers were sent out in search of adventure (and stories).

Traveling East for two days time, the trio came to the town of Gaines whereupon the townspeople told of an impassable swamp just beyond the houses, not deep enough for a ship but filled with thousands upon thousands of bloodthirsty reptiles.

“I am the finest warrior in the land in search of adventure tales, for I will one day be the greatest writer in the land as well,” Gordon told the townsmen. “I will not only cross your swamp, but I will kill any alligator who attempts to attack me.”

Admiring the courage and bravery of the Nolesemi people, King Young of Gaines sent Gordon with three of his best soldiers as guides. Gordon placed the men; two in front and one behind their group to warn of nearing gators, and armed each guide with a customary Nolesemi tomahawk, bow, and arrows. By the end of the first sticky morning, all three guides were eaten for being unskilled in agility and the wielding of a tomahawk. The sons of Wetherell pressed onward, demanding passage from the muck monsters.

Upon reaching the opposite bank of the swamp, the trio, now clad in armor of tough reptilian skin no match for the fine blade of a tomahawk, then steered North for twelve moons and came upon the town of Durham Raleigh. On the evening of the thirteenth moon, Gordon, Terre, and Lune discovered a cave and made camp. Basking in candlelight, Gordon began to slowly recapture the highlights of his travels with script. It was Lune who first noticed the sparkle of many pairs of black beads looming just beyond the cave entrance. Curiously, the trio squinted at the cave entrance. The beads danced closer in the air on the notes of a growl until graying silhouettes formed ears and backs and snouts. From the center of the wolf pack stepped forth a man, clad in blue.

The man’s voice thundered through the cave amidst snarling, “Who dares trespass upon the Diablo’s cave?”

Gordon paused, and said, “It is I, Heel Stay. I have come in search of adventure and stories. Let me pass and I may let you live.”

Crystal flames burst up from the shoulder pads of his suit and the devil scoffed. “I am not the guardian of this cave by allowing trespassers. Draw your weapon!”

The wolf pack flowed into a half-circle around the cave entrance as Gordon and the blue devil dueled. Gordon struck his opponent with an overhead tomahawk thrust. The devil tried to parry the attack, but Gordon’s strike was so powerful that it severed the sword and produced a ‘doonngg” on the devil’s helmet. With the devil stunned, Gordon’s brothers raised their bows and sent forth a stream of arrows, pinning him to the walls of the cave.

“Heel Stay!” he called. “Heel Stay! Heel Stay!” he called, as the trio quickly retreated into the cave unpersued by the whimpering wolves. Gordon used a small torch to light the dank tunnel. They walked past long black stalactites until reaching a lit room, paused quizzically, and entered. Loud cackles, chirps, hoots and crickles echoed in the room and seemed to begin from every direction. An old man wearing a black robe appeared at the center of the room. He remained silent, studying the men covered in knotted green leather with garnet and gold feathers decorating their hair and hand tools.

Gordon spoke first, “I am the finest warrior in the land in search of adventure tales, for I will one day be the greatest writer in the land as well.”

The old man tilted his eyes backward until only two white moons glowed within his dark hood. “I am Wake, demon deacon of the black forest. I am in search of what some call the Heisman, which lies in the middle of this maze of tunnels. With this, the black forest will gain immortality and I will rule this land. You will not hinder me.”

Gordon drew his tomahawk and took stance. The deacon lifted Gordon, Terre, and Lune by telekinesis and smashed them against the far wall. Gordon arose first to charge the deacon.  Wake released a gold beam from his left palm and pinned Gordon back against the wall where he waited for the deacon to attack. Wake held high his cane and chanted an archaic message for a massive gold energy light to appear above him. A tomahawk spun towards the deacon and cut through his chest like a ship through water. The energy lightened into mist, Wake fell back onto the ground, and the cave was still.

Terre and Lune secured the old man to the ground with arrows while he remained unconscious with pain, and Gordon rubbed upon the wound a healing salve used for generations by the Nolesemi tribe. In their soft moccasins, the Nolesemi warriors tip-toed past the old man and made their way deeper into the cave.

They walked in darkness for a while, looking back every few minutes to see the lighted doorway of the room become smaller, smaller, while a new glow appeared in the distance before them. The trio reached a very large room with lit torches mounted around the walls. A crystal blue light appeared in the center of the room and formed a young man dressed in all white.

“Gordon," said the man. "Do you know what is it you want? What is your purpose to live like you have?” said the man.

“I am the finest warrior in the land in search of adventure tales, for I will one day be the greatest writer in the land as well.”

“Is this your only desire?” said the man.

"These weeks of adventure allowed me to prove myself as a warrior, and if you ask, this is what living really means to me.”

“Then you are an adventurer, not a warrior or writer.”

“I want to write what I see so that my stories may inspire generations of warriors and writers; this is my passion, my burning desire,” Gordon said.

“I have been watching over your journey, and indeed you are the warrior I have been waiting for.” The man held up his cane and a white light swarmed around Gordon.  “If you wish to share your experiences, then you must live to tell them. This light will help you to see in this cave of darkness.”

The Nolesemis examined Gordon’s glow, and he said to the man, “May I ask what to call you?”

The young man smiled. “You can call me, Carriage.” He looked up, a gale of wind extinguished the torches, and he disappeared.

Gordon could see throughout the whole cave as the light pulsated around his body. The trio gained morale and turned into another tunnel, hoping it would take them to the middle. The tunnel opened into another large room, but with a pit the size of a football field between them and where the tunnel continued. Gordon walked to the edge and extended a glowing arm over the vast darkness that lit up like the night sky with sparkly pebbles that twinkled in Gordon’s iridescent light. A squeaky voice filled the room.

“If you are worthy, may you step forward and walk across. If you are not worthy, you will fall endlessly through hell.”

Terre and Lune extended their right feet to test if what the voice said was true.

It snapped, “You will not succeed if you cannot trust yourself!”

Gordon motioned for his brothers to step back and walk back towards the tunnel entrance. Mid-step he spun, ran to the edge of the pit and leaped out as far as he could. He started to flail his arms at the fear of falling and belly-flopped onto an invisible dirt road in a cloud of grey dust illuminated by his glow. Gordon looked down and could see nothing. Terre and Lune made haste, too leaping onto the invisible road and joining their brother on the 100-yard walk towards the tunnel they sought.

The squeaky voice laughed and applauded in a way that made the owner sound small and alien. “The particles wanted to catch you, and they’re a very good group for judging character. You have completed my first test. My second test awaits you soon, soon.”

They followed the tunnel to another room not as large as the last or small as the first two. A massive bronze statue of a bull on two legs wielding an axe filled the center of the room.

“The Hokie was a mindless killing machine, may he live again!” shrieked the squeaky voice.

The statue breathed, stretched, snorted at the Nolesemis, and pawed the ground. Terre and Lune drew their bows, wide-eyed with wonderment of the great beast. The Hokie charged without a flinch from the arrows piercing its hide. Gordon drew his tomahawk and took stance; he flipped over the Hokie’s horns, and as he passed over the back of the bull, both hooves kicked into his torso. Arrows continue to fly at the bull and bounce away or lodge lightly into his limbs. The Hokie wielded his axe above his head and turned towards Terre. Gordon hastily arose and thrust his tomahawk into the Hokie’s side; he mooed in pain and swung the axe back towards Gordon and Lune. Gordon watched the axe in slow-motion awe bounce off the light glowing from his neck and full silhouette, and as it bounced away, the Hokie’s axe dragged the glowing light off Gordon. The white light surrounded the Hokie and drove it back until it could go no farther into the corner of the room, and dove into the Hokie’s mouth as a snake on the wind.  The beast screamed, rampaged in circles, and dropped.

The Nolesemis calmed their heavy breathing, gathered the arrows that bounced away from the beast as they crossed the room, and stepped silently through a short hallway uncustomarily dark without Gordon’s glow. At a dead end, the trio felt blindly against the walls to find a metal loop used as a door handle, and stepped through the door into a room lit by torches – the exact room they had previously left, without a trace of their battle against the enraged bronze bull.

“You have survived!” said the squeaky voice. “But you will not pass my last test. Only one of you may trade your life for the Heisman. You must choose one person to sacrifice if you wish to bring immortality to your tribe and rule over all the land.”

Gordon stepped forward. “My brothers, I have lived as much as is my purpose, and my purpose is now to die. I ask of you only one favor, my brothers; I ask thee to pass on our collection of adventures to everyone. May our tale inspire all those of this land and others. Your task is now to live forever, and tell our tale as I would have wanted it to be told.”

A swirling portal of orange and green energy burst open in front of Gordon. He looked again at his brothers and smiled. “I’ve always dreamed of flying,” he said, extended his arms, and dove into the portal. Lune lunged at the portal, Terre tackled him to the ground, and the portal closed.

“Where have you sent him?” Lune said into the stillness.

The squeaky voice answered, “Your brother will ride an endless hurricane, and if successful in harnessing it he will steer the clouds away from the land of your people forever, for infinity.” And so it is.



Author's note: I'm considering adding in excerpts of Gordon's writing to bring this piece up to exactly 3333 and 1/3 words. (I'm still working on the 1/3 part - hahaha). But I don't feel like this story can handle much more in length as it is. Any thoughts? Did I sufficiently annoy any Gators out there? :) Was there any time you felt more images or description were needed? Thanks!
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1548998-Legend-of-the-Gordon-Rule-Requirement