Many years ago, the queendom of Hallow was diminishing in power. Every year it was brutally attacked by the nearby kingdom of Brussels, who was known for sending thousands of young warriors into battle, who they called sprouts.
“What shall we do?” cried the people. The queen wanted to save them, but all her efforts to negotiate a peace had failed.
An old man, stepped forward. “I have an idea,” he said. The old man was known for his wisdom, so everyone listened.
“It is said that the people of Brussels are afraid of spirits and ghouls,” he said. “Let us send out our armies dressed as spirits of the dead, to confront the sprouts of Brussels.”
The queen nodded. “We shall heed these words and dress as the dead!” she proclaimed. “I shall dress as the ancient spirit of Fury, once a powerful queen who wore armor covered in spikes.”
“About that,” said the old man. “I was thinking that for your costume, we should probably show your midsection. And probably uncover your legs.”
The Queen frowned. “This is not how Fury dressed.”
“Yeah, but the people of Brussels won’t know that. Besides, what’s wrong with having a little fun?”
“Do not worry, my queen,” said Sheena, the queen’s bodyguard. “I will protect you. I shall be dressed as Vorgon, the disfigured and ancient king, and shall terrify the Sprouts with a ghoulish scream.”
“Or…” said the old man, holding up a finger, “maaaybe you could be a sexy priestess.”
“Explain, sir,” said the queen, “what would a sexy priestess have to do with terrifying the armies of Brussels? ”
The queen’s helmsman cleared his throat. “I think we should heed the old man, my queen. He is known for his wisdom.” All of the men nodded in agreement.
The queen sighed. “Very well, prepare our armies. To battle!”
Long and short: the queen and her bodyguard died via wounds to their upper thighs and midsection. But, the armies of Hallow did succeed in confusing and distracting the armies of Brussels enough to drive them back, their first victory in years.
From that moment forward, the people celebrated the Hallow queen every year with the men dressing up in famous or ghoulish figures, and the women wearing little clothing and trying not to freeze to death.
And they all ate lots of candy, because fuck Brussels’ sprouts, seriously.