Famer's Story-Writing Debate Tournament Round #1 DakotaKrafick VS Logic_on_rails

“Blood be shed upon its pointMen fall atop it’s swaying figure...Men also rest upon their knee jointTo let us anoint their rigour...What am I speaking of?”asked Larry. The woman laughed.“Are you going easy for starters Larry?” teased the lady. A murmur rose through the crowd.“The sand falls, watches tick, and time runs as we speak. Your answer?” came the irritated reply.“Very well. You speak of blades of grass.” The crowd was silent, their anticipation building.“She is correct,” came Larry’s grudging reply. “Easy to begin with of course! Now, your riddle?”The lady stepped looked around, and chose her victim randomly. No need to antagonise Aremair and his escort just yet, nor could she reply to Lenny.“You sir! Here is your riddle:The wind’s twirl moves it gently. It’s fall can swallow cities, causing many to scurry to safety. People fear it’s touch. We pray for it to go away, to be delayed. And yet, it is a blot on us all, hanging over us. However... it is not always there. And in the end, we cry when it never falls, tightening our proverbial belts. Of what do I speak?”The good sir did ponderYes, a great deal he did,But it was all he could do to wanderAnd fall into a chair with a skid.Hapless was heThe lady’s wit was his baneAnd it stung sharp as a thousand beesAnd there was nought to stop the pain.The gentleman sat down, the first of the day’s casualties. He looked blearily at the lady.“My lady, what was the answer?” She looked at him a second, and then at the onlooking crowd.“Let’s give the crowd a show sir. How many shall fall to this riddle? You’ll get your answer soon enough,” she said kindly; the man waited.Next was an arrogant youth,Thought himself sharper than steelHis arrogance matched only by his lack of couthAlas he too lacked the zeal......and fell upon the proverbial sword. The lady’s riddled lance then proceeded to unhorse a third man in fine style. The wisened old man, his proud boutonierre on his lapel, cried ‘It is the sun’s almighty heat!’ and the crowd cheered in applause. The man had faced and conquered wit’s first charge. Then our lady spoke anew.“And what of the wind’s twirl sir? How does the wind move the sun?” The man looked at her, then away into the sky as if to feel an almighty gale. Finally he turned back, humbled.“If it’s not the sun, then what is it?” The crowd looked on in a hushed silence, the tension building.“Clouds, and their rain.” “But, the proverbial belt...”“When the rain does not come, drought begins, and famine reigns. You tighten your belt then, right?”And then the cheers came, loud as trumpets. The applause was strong and genuine. But finally another arrow had to be loosed from the lady’s quiver. Eventually, the intellectual shield caught the arrow squarely on, and suddenly another bow was loosed. Rhymes, riddles, tricks...The contestants began to fadeDispersing before wit’s baneFirst a trickle, then a cascade,And the sun slowly began to waneIt’s slow, predictable fallMarking the stages of an intellectual brawl...-----------------Best leave it there... we still have 3 more rounds left! Can’t go and have our final confrontation or anything similar just yet! And, since there seem to be few outs from a continuous slew of riddles as befits the story’s competition...I give Dakota the floor.