Although I admire your acumen for writing such brief yet brilliant stories, I am compelled to address the dreadful conundrum you have beset us with.

You see, you state that you didn’t write “something”, i.e. the statement “Ottz wrote something” is false.

The Merriam-Webster dictionary gives among other definitions of the verb “to write” this one:
“c: to spell in writing”.
Referring to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, we find that writing is “the act or art of forming visible letters or characters”.

Since the words claiming that you wrote nothing were spelled in the act of forming visible letters or characters, you wrote something by definition. I.e. the statement “Ottz wrote something” is true.

This means that you, dear cobber, contradict yourself in this piece. I cannot condone it from a logical standpoint, although the artistic merits of it are certainly outstanding.

“Dawn of War” Submitted by: Exce
The sky was filled with the sound of battle, even as the shroud of the night hid most of it.

Below, the streets were filled with flames and debris, blocking paths and leaving mangled limbs jutting out of mounds of brick and wood.

They had come out of nowhere.

Winged men and women with blazing circlets over their heads, and their weapons of gold and death.

Woken by the screams of the dead and dying, the forces of the Aravwin had risen in the sky to face their enemy, but where the defenders were struggling for each kill, their enemies took dozens at a time.

In this chaos one Aravwin hurried through the city, carrying a small bundle in his arm as he leapt over debris and evaded enemy soldiers. They would only have to reach the edge of the island, which was floating high above the black, bottomless sea.

Amphiel knew that their chances were slim. But he had to try.

For his sister.

As they passed a crossroads, one of the attackers’ weapons lay on the rubble, and without thinking, Amphiel took the golden sword in his free hand.

It was not much further to the edge, just one more street and a small wall…

He stopped, teeth gritted as he put his sister down. When she looked at him with a confused expression he pointed to the wall.

“Go ahead, I’ll just make sure nobody is following us… I will be right behind you.” He gave her a slight push, and she began walking to the wall with her small white wings unfolding from her back.

As she hopped over it, Amphiel turned around.

One hand with the golden blade, the other crackling with energy. In front of him the smoke parted, golden flames throwing deep shadows over fine faces.

As the small Aravwin beat her wings, slowly escaping the island, a shockwave hit her in the back, sending her stumbling through the sky.

When she turned around, the stretch of street where her brother had stood was wreathed in fire and debris…

“Partnership”
by Brickosaur

(fanfiction after Grimm’s — https://www.pitt.edu/~dash/grimm002.html)

A proud cat sat in the church where he last saw a mouse he had called friend. He missed her sometimes; the house had gotten awfully dusty without her cleaning. But their shared pot of fat had tasted wonderful, and so had she.

He was contemplating finding another rodent to flatter into partnership, when four misty figures appeared in front of him. Three kittens he didn’t know,

And one mouse he did.

The cat leaped up, startled. “Are you coming to teach me?” he asked hopefully when he had recovered. “Three ghosts to show me my sins, and at the end of the night I am a changed cat?”

The mouse cackled. “‘Tis not that story, friend. You had your chance, and you betrayed one weaker than yourself. There is only one end today, and that is vengeance!”

Her voice rose to a screech at the last, and liquid movement came from across the church-hall. Hundreds of mice boiled from every shadow, charging straight for him. Before the cat could flee, they swarmed him, pinning his paws and knocking him to the ground.

“Do you not recognize your godchildren?” sneered the ghost. “I will introduce you. All-Out!” she said. One kitten came to sit by the cat’s nose, and even more mice appeared.

The second kitten joined them. It had a white ring around its neck, and the cat feared it was an omen. “Half-Gone,” said the ghostly mouse. Across the church, something glinted. A great steel knife, carried by six big mice.

His old friend stood tall, shining brightly. “THIS is the way of the world, feline fiend! You hurt one of us; we bond together and rise up. Your head will stand monument to all those who would betray us. NEVER AGAIN will the weak cower alone. We will have justice!”

All the mice cheered, and the ghost beckoned the final kitten close.
“Here is your final godchild. Meet . . . ”

The knife-bearers lifted the steel high overhead, just over his neck. The cat closed his eyes and heard his old friend’s final words.

“Top-Off!”

“He Who Swears on the Prussian Flag” by Simon D. Field

I step into the dimly lit cabinet. Colonel-General Blaskowitz greets me warmly, and this raises my already high expectations.

I start by depicting the harrowing state of affairs in Poland. Employing all my eloquence, I tell him that what he saw and complained about three years before is being constantly exacerbated and show letters from the East corroborating my account.

Blaskowitz tactfully nods. However, when I gingerly mention the necessity of rescuing Germany by the only way that seems possible, that of a coup, the general’s expression turns sour. He stops me with a gesture.

“Mister von Hassell,” he says. “As any soldier, I feel disgusted and repulsed by these crimes committed in Poland by representatives of state authority. But you propose an impossible plan, even if you overthrow and remove the Leader. Firstly, you would create a martyr for the Party. Secondly, you would cause a war between the Party and the Army. Thirdly, regardless of my opinions, the Leader is the commander-in-chief, and I have sworn an oath to him. Fourthly, a German officer must not degrade himself and his men to active political partisanship. Finally, we can ill afford a coup against the man who has the loyalty of the nation in this pivotal time for our people.”

His logic is flawless if bounded by a military standpoint.

But I decide to make one more attempt, appealing not with my mind but rather with my soul, “The Corporal doesn’t have the loyalty of the nation, mister Colonel-General! There are many eminent men sympathetic to our cause, of both civilian and military merit and impeccable conduct. Follow their example, mister Colonel-General, I implore you, and help us save the Fatherland.”

He paces across the room and fiddles with his peaked cap. I watch his fists clenching and unclenching until he turns to me with a strained expression and looks me in the eyes.

“I wish you luck, mister von Hassell,” he says firmly, as if reassuring both me and himself, “you have my sympathies. But I swore an oath.”

“But you swore an oath,” I repeat, utterly defeated.

Mage Promise
By Margaret Couplet

Nelan knelt on the cold stone floor, arms chained behind his back and eyes covered in a thick cloth to block out all light or ability to see. He took a deep, filling breath and finally relaxed.

“Why?” A voice like the darkest, sweetest poison said.

“Two years ago I was captured by pirates working for the Mergo Throne. They didn’t realize what I was at first and when they did we were already on dry land.” Nelan started to explain.

Another person scoffed, female by the sound. “This is going to be an utter waste of our time. Let’s just execute him and be done with it.”

“Quiet, Amelia!” The man barked before talking to Nelan. “Continue.”

“They threw me in a Mage Breaker. I barely survived without going insane but only because I don’t think they wanted me to break. When I was finally set free I had to give the prince a Favor.” Nelan spat.

He’d been so sure back then, so confident that Matthew was different from the rest of his family. He’d been a fool of the highest order.

“Fuck.” A new voice breathed and Nelan had to push the familiarity of it away, lock up that memory or he’d do something they all would regret.

“A week ago he called it in.” Nelan laughed bitterly.

The prickling at the corner of his eyes aching but he would not cry, not now, not over that. Matthew wasn’t worth it, clearly, even if Nelan once thought he was.

“I didn’t want to but…” Nelan trailed off, trying to get his emotions under control.

He hadn’t. He had never wanted to betray his country, to try to kill his king. He loved King Vicra just like everyone else who had ever met the man for more than five minutes.

But, magic was both a blessing and the worst curse anyone could ever receive.

“But you promised.” The first man sighed, then cursed like a sailor.

“Regrets” by gregovin

Rayna had refused to train for 3 days.

George decided to go talk to her.

George knocked on the door to her room while preparing his patience for the difficult conversation ahead.
Rayna said “what do you want?” a little defensively.
“Just checking in. You good?”
“Yah”
“You gonna come out and train?”
Rayna pauses
She started to sob. “I’m sorry, but I made a promise to the universe. I can’t do this anymore. I’ll do it again, and I can’t allow that to happen.”
“I’m not sure you’ll have much of a choice”
“What are you talking about?”
“You do realize the army is advancing on the building you call home, and if they attack you will use lethal force on instinct. The sword was probably a bad idea, you could get away with less, but you will need to train if you want anything to change”
She paused, thinking.
“How long do we have?”
“I don’t know, probably a few more days”
“Do you think I could actually fight without killing?”
“I don’t know, but it’s worth a shot”
She paused again, then she opened the door.

The Contract

By MasaCur

I finished pouring the salt to create my circle of protection and then sat in the office chair and began the incantation. As I finished, the smell of brimstone infused the air.

I opened my eyes, and before me sat the child. Granted, he was no ordinary child. Purple-black horns curled off his temples, framing his spiky green hair, and red leathery wings sprouted from the back of his black dress shirt.

“What is it now?” the demon asked, his nasal voice saturated with irritation.

I held out the contract in my hand. “I gave you my soul, you gave me your word!”

The demon glanced at the contract without actually looking at it. “Yeah? What’s the problem then?”

“The problem? The problem is that I didn’t get my end of the deal! They turned me down!” I stood, furious.

The demon boy laughed. “Did you bother reading the fine print? You asked for a chance. A chance! If they gave you a refusal, it means they actually saw you, right?”

I tore the contract into pieces and flung them into the air. “Give me back my soul!”

The individual pieces burst into flames, transformed into smoke, and the smoke drifted into the child’s hand, where they reformed back to the contract.

“See here,” he said. “The part where it says you wanted a chance at this…this…whatever. I gave it to you.” He pointed a finger at the contract.

“You little bitch!”

The demon expanded in size, becoming monstrous. “Don’t you dare call me that!” he boomed. He advanced on me, but came to the edge of the circle of salt. Suddenly he shrank back to child size and glanced down at the circle.

I grinned.

Then he grinned back, and blew. The salt flew into a cloud, and the child stepped through it, sat in my office chair, and spun whimsically.

“Next time you sell your soul, clarify.” He laughed at the irony of his statement. “Also, never summon just any old demon. You never know when you’ll get the Prince of Lies. ”

“Bargains” by Magan (Legends of Dracora series: Modern Dracora, post-Human Settlement)(350 words)

“Dracorians don’t usually come here, beastfolk,” the man said. “What brings you?”

The cloaked half-blooded fox sat at the shadowy table, ignoring looks from the tavern’s other humans. Her red fur revealed bluejay patterns as she took the offered mug. One foreleg seemed carved from solid emerald up to her shoulder, movement painfully stiff.

“I have no love for you, star-demons,” she said, “But I need your services. I’ll pay handsomely.”

The human scoffed, gesturing to the other two at their table, “I doubt it. Your ‘glazeberries’ are useless off-world. But if it’s any comfort, we don’t all like you freaks either.”

“I know,” she smirked, tossing a sack onto the table. “Half your payment.”

The man opened it, revealing oddly-shaped gemstones. Perfect replicas of body parts, the larger pieces smashed. All foxes, but beastfolk were double Earth-animal size.

The second man plucked a ruby heart from the bag, horrified. “Lady, you’re sick. I want no part of this.”

“More for us,” the third man pulled a sapphire head from the sack, spotting similarities to the living fox, “Literally selling us your family… And buying?”

The vixen gave a predator’s smile, “Greater treasure than you can dream of.”

* * *

The she-fox ignored their dying screams, eyes only for the dragon-lich feasting. She prostrated herself, earth magic holding black corruption at bay. “My Lord! I redeem my family’s honor! You are free!”

She gestured through the glass-like labyrinth, to the path bored by technology, braces keeping the magical walls from shifting.

The lich finished the last human of the excavation team and stared at her blankly and hungrily…

She backed away, confused, as its eyeless gaze drank her strength as it drank everything else. “My Lord? Will–will you not remove your bloodline-curse? Have I not done enough?”

Her god-king advanced, ashen tar pooling against her wards, silent except for its pulsing abyssal heart.

She fled.

Her demigod brother lay where she’d stabbed him, barely alive. He was a griffon-esque creature of bluejay and jackal called a canvid.

His pleading warning echoed in memory, “You’ll doom us all!”

What had she unleashed?

“Necessity for Fangs” Submitted by Connor/Dragoneye

“Alright, next!”

Virgil placed his satchel of goods on the table while the taxman scribbled away on paper.

“2 portions?”

“Yes, sir.”

The Lady and her “economy”. Portions of a hard week’s work for sweet sweet blood. It was subpar, but enough for anyone who struggled to keep themselves alive.

The taxman unveiled a new bag, a hide pouch. However, its size was significantly smaller than the goods he provided.

“What is this about?” protested Virgil.

“Move along, you have your share.”

The lowly farmer clenched his fist in fury, shouting, “This is only 1 portion of blood. I gave you 2 portions, I should have 2 portions of blood.”

The collector looked up from his paperwork and calmly said, “You must have not heard. M’Lady has drawn back on her blood supply. We are running low and need to conserve.”

“This is absurd! I can’t feed my girls with this!” As Virgil closed his distance to the taxman, the accompanying guards stood between them. Their wolven snouts snarled and huffed, the bony spines on their backs ruffled like a bird’s feathers.

“Then I suggest you either conserve it yourself, join a hunt, or starve.”

Virgil trampled away in frustration, but happy that they at least had something. Anything.

Lia greeted him at the door to their humble abode, out in the shaded brush of Kalonia. “I’m sorry, honey. We’ll have to make do with what we got,” Virgil said, holding up the blood he received. His wife pulled him into a deep hug and whispered in his ear, “It’s ok, we’re all here.”

Then, a loud thunderous boom deeper in the woods shattered their moment of embrace.

“You Promised” by Samantha Realynn

Oath keeper.

You wore that title so proudly, didn’t you? Defender of the weak, vanquisher of evil. You swore to defend the innocent, to protect those who could not protect themselves. You would stare evil in the face and shove your sword through its gut. Even if you were outmatched, you wouldn’t back down. If you gave your word, you kept it, no matter what.

You promised me the same.

A shadow hung over me since before we first met. I was terrified of it swallowing me, of dragging me to someplace dark and evil. You swore that you wouldn’t let it, that you would protect me with all that you had. Despite all the danger, you never faltered, never wavered. Instead, you devoted yourself to your oath to me. You would keep it, no matter the cost. You always kept your promises.

You promised to protect me.

You promised that you would never abandon me.

You promised that you loved me.

When the shadow came for me, you didn’t let it take me.

You gave me to it. You pushed me into its embrace. You looked me in the eyes as it swallowed me whole, ignored my cries and pleas for help. I fought it, but without your strength, I was weak. Because of your betrayal, I couldn’t fight it anymore. My worst fears had been realized, because of you.

Oath keeper.

You gave me your word that you would help me, protect me. You let me lean on you, depend on your strength. You told me that with you around I had nothing to fear. The shadow couldn’t touch me if you were with me. You promised me. You said that you loved me.

You promised that you loved me. You promised. You promised. YOU PROMISED!

But then you left me to the shadow, to the darkness. You gave me to my worst fears. You abandoned me. You broke every promise you made to me. I’ll never know why. I don’t think I want to know. Not that it matters. Nothing does anymore.

You promised…

You promised…