David perched atop what passed for a tavern these days, watching in barely contained glee as various fantasy races attempted their version of Halloween below. Some genius of an elf had managed to enchant actual floating wisps for ambiance, and the whole marketplace looked like a D&D campaign had gotten absolutely shitfaced and thrown up decorations everywhere.
"You seeing this shit?" he whispered to Captain, who was wearing what appeared to be a tiny wizard hat made from bark. "They've got a fucking orc dressed as a princess. A PRINCESS. This is the greatest night of my life."
Below, a group of dwarves were engaged in what appeared to be a drinking contest with a very patient minotaur. The minotaur was winning, but only because he could hold his mug without having to stand on three bar stools stacked together.
"Time to make an entrance," David grinned, his fangs catching moonlight. "Ready to fuck up some fairy tales, gang?"
His Cuddlebugs, each sporting miniature fantasy costumes that ranged from 'adorable' to 'what the actual fuck,' scattered into position. Captain had somehow acquired a tiny staff to go with their wizard hat, which they wielded with concerning enthusiasm.
David launched himself from the roof like death's own party crasher, wings spread wide to catch the enchanted lights in ways that made his membrane patterns look like portals to the void. The effect, combined with his natural what-the-fuck-is-that appearance, was exactly as pants-shittingly terrifying as he'd hoped.
A halfling screamed. Then an elf screamed. Then a fucking DRAGON screamed, which was both embarrassing for them and absolutely hilarious for David.
"SURPRISE, BITCHES!" he bellowed, swooping through the crowd like nightmare incarnate. "YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD HORROR BAT HAS ARRIVED!"
Some poor bastard of a centaur actually reared up in shock, knocking over an entire table of carefully arranged candy apples. A gnome wearing fake vampire fangs took one look at David's actual nightmare dentistry and straight up poofed himself out of existence with a panic-cast teleport.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
"Oh come ON," David cackled, landing on a table that groaned under his weight. "Your Dark Lord costumes are WAY less convincing than my actual face!"
Captain, absolutely feeling their wizard fantasy, started shooting harmless sparks from their tiny staff. This caused a nearby elf to spill their entire drink down the back of a very surprised goblin, who then proceeded to declare immediate and thorough revenge via pie bombardment.
"Hey now," David called out as chaos erupted. "Let's keep it civil! And by civil I mean if you're gonna throw food, aim for the stuck-up looking bastard in the corner trying to pretend he's too good for Halloween. Yeah, you with the fancy staff! Nice robe, be a shame if someone- FOOD FIGHT!"
Three hours and several hundred gold worth of property damage later, David found himself somehow elected as the "Official Holiday Chaos Coordinator" by unanimous drunk vote. His Cuddlebugs had formed a minor cult following among the local goblin population, who appreciated their dedication to controlled chaos.
"Listen here you magical fucks," David slurred from atop his newly acquired throne (actually just three barrels stacked together). "This is now officially the best holiday. I don't make the rules. Well, I do actually. I'm making them right now. Rule one: more explosions. Rule two: whoever scared that dragon gets free drinks for life."
"That was you!" shouted about fifteen different voices.
"OH SHIT, FREE DRINKS FOR ME!"
The party eventually died down around sunrise, but not before David had managed to teach a group of very drunk dwarves how to sing "Bohemian Rhapsody" in perfect harmony. The local wizard's guild had to issue an official statement the next day declaring the evening's events "Technically not a catastrophe, but please never again."
Naturally, they do it again every year. The dragon now comes prepared with their own costume.
And if anyone asks why there's a yearly tradition of leaving offerings of exotic alcohol and party supplies in the highest tower of the wizard's guild? Well, that's between them and their resident chaos bat.
Just don't ask about the year someone left out enchanted moonshine that made you speak in riddles. Some stories are better left untold, mainly because no one can remember them anyway.
The gnome that teleported, by the way? Landed in the middle of another party three towns over and immediately started a new Halloween tradition there too. David's pretty proud of that one.