Trick-or-treating is for peasants. Real kings just walk into the residence and take the whole bowl of candy.
Que a crying polar bear as all of their candy was taken by the King of Death - not that anyone would have been able to guess that the great former prince of Lordaeron had a sweet tooth.
It was unacceptable, as while the captain of the Heart pirates had been less than enthusiastic about allowing his submarine to be utilized as a doorstep where obnoxious brats could beg for sweets from his strangely sentimental crew, he couldn’t, in the end, handle the whining and tears, and had given in.
As soon as their cache had been absconded with, at the first sign of distress, a small popping sound of a being moving through time, space and reason would resonate across the ether, and the ‘Surgeon of Death’ would appear before the mad, frosted monarch.
“Give my navigator back his candy. I don’t have time to take down more than one ‘King’ this week, you’ll have to make an appointment for a check-up later.”Because bitch you COME INTO MY HOUSE, STEAL from my bear I’ll cut you.