This here's a Ghost Town (EEU)

Trouble with this abandoned barn and saloon seemed to be brewing as of late. Why just the other day, some young colts had coming running back into Appleloosa in the early hours of the morning. They bawled for hours about the ghosts that haunted them and how they'd barely escaped with their lives. The whole situation would have been completely laughed off had it not been for the fact that three other similar incidents had occurred in the last couple of months.

Wesson had always been one to do good for the good folks of the frontier so he'd taken it upon himself to investigate. If there was some foul play at work, he'd see to it...

The large stallion stood at a short distance from the two buildings to survey the area. The barn seemed of little interest as it appeared quite new and untouched. In stark contrast, the saloon stood aged and decrepid after years of remaining uncared for in the exposed wilderness. Wesson been many places in his long life but could't deny the uneasy atmosphere. The comfortable weight of his six-shooter holstered in his waistcoat pressed against his body, a reminder of protection.

He withdrew a hip flask, taking a sip of whiskey to feel the warm liquid sooth his pallet. Feeling relaxed, Wesson trotted over to the saloon to investigate.

Fantasy Flicker was not currently in his physical state, merely haunting over the whole saloon in general, although his attention was focused on the trapdoor behind the bar. the one that led to the wine cellar. Atleast, that's where it used to lead. where it lead now? Well, that was a rather large issue. It's why Fantasy Flicker was blocking it off, and especially keeping foals away from this town. Speaking of, he felt a presence come close to the doors of the saloon. they swung open as someone entered...

The empty conciousness that was Fantasy Flicker went upstairs. He didn't recognize the fellow, but he looked at him real close. Large, Stallion, Sturdy. Has a gun with him. Nice! Due to the magic nature of Fantasy Flicker, Wesson couldn't see or hear anything, at most he'd get a sense of 'a spell' being cast near him. it was a vague feeling at best, might be easier to identify were he a unicorn.

Nonetheless Fantasy Flicker prepared to cast his spell upon this location, to cover it in his secondary speciality, illusions! He did not create an illusion for himself, rather choosing to create visual images of blood and heaps of tumbleweed covering things that seemed to be exactly the size of a pony, laying on the ground. A pungent scent, a mix of death, rotting wood in the warm weather and ruined booze suddenly came to be in the saloon. Fantasy Flicker was testing the pony who was entering, and perhaps even having a little bit of fun with it.

Smith Wesson pushed through the saloon doors that wavered behind him. He stood in place, looking around the old building until they had come to a complete stop. The atmosphere did not improve on the inside. The interior of the saloon was evening more dilapidated than the exterior. Bar stools were abandoned, the bar sadly dry of any and all liquids. Tables that would have once been covered in playing cards and gambling bets were barren and dusty.

It was slightly remorseful to be standing in an establishment created for joy and laughter, only to see it so dead and empty. Wesson made his way over to the bar, spying the few empty and broken bottles that remained on the shelves. He could shake the feeling that he was being watched, a paranoia that had paid off in the past. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted movement.

His watchful green eyes turned to see a pony. No, it was...something. It looked like weeds and flora had overgrown the saloon floor to cover ponies that lay forever on the ground. Around them, he could see the familiar sight of red. The stenches in the air triggered memories from his past, each giving him more purpose to stay. Wesson was no stranger to death. What arose around him twas indeed unsettling, but the experience earth pony remained unwatered, his guard now raised.

He suspected more was ahoof here than met the eye. Someone, or something, was here and was the cause . He just had figure out what. Wesson habitably tipped his stetson back before muttering to himself.

"Gonna have to try harder than that..."

Oh really now? how interesting... Fantasy thought to himself. Fantasy wished he could tell what Wesson was thinking, but he was horrible at 'seeing' things now that he didn't have eyes and required to use a seeing spell to actually proper look around. The magical presence thought on what would be most frightful. Perhaps he could pretend to be a poltergeist and lift some stuff around! After all, he was good at illusions, but it's Levitation that ends up being Fantasy's best spell.

Fantasy decided to test the tough cowpony with his pistol. A few bottles started levitating, flying over the bar and right past wesson, hovering in different spots around the large room. Shooting bottles was commonly the first practice that somepony got with a gun, and Fantasy was curious to how quick Wesson's wits and how quick his trigger hoof was!

Suddenly, from behind the bar, he spotted a target. In the blink of an eye, the earth pony had reared onto his backless and unholstered his revolver. His sights were locked onto the first bottle in less than a second, his aim square and true.

No bullet came.

Wesson reminded posed, surveying the see of floating bottles in front of him. His scrutinising gaze remained on his intended victims. He was being played. Well, he wasn't playing this game. This was likely some cheap trick to scare him or get to know what he could do. Either that, or they knew who he was and what he could do and were just teasing him...

"Snake Eyes?" Wesson mumbled questioningly to himself, as he holstered his weapons and turned to face the rest of the room to bellow, "Ya'll gonna show yourselves, or am I gonna have to find ya?"

Fantasy was impressed, while he did tauntingly float the bottles around, he set them down when it became obvious. Although Fantasy wanted to play more... there was one thing he couldn't risk. Slowly, but surely, a voice resounded, albeit somewhat softly. "Games are over, no worries, sir." The voice said. "I'll explain myself, but please keep your voice down." Fantasy braced himself. he was gonna need his magic in full effect to not get bullets in him.

A unicorn appeared from around a corner. He was short and sturdy, and wearing a strange hood of sorts, connected to a scarf? a... Hoodie-scarf hybrid thing. He waved his horn and dispelled the illusion of plants and death that surrounded the place. The saloon reverted to just an old wooden building with the scent of the hot desert in the air. "Forgive me for testing you sir. I've been scaring off people from the dangers that hide below, in the cellar." he said. there was something off about this short little unicorn, outside from his outrageously fluffy appearance. he wasn't sweating at all, and something weird was going on with his eyes. They were there, but they seem to.. become somewhat transparent every few seconds. That creeping feeling of someone watching.. it was less, but it was still there... nonetheless, the unicorn before him was his best bet to go off of. Fantasy deeply hoped He wouldn't try an put a hole in his unicorn illusion.

A figure slowly appeared in the corner of the saloon, getting Wesson's attention. He sucked in a breath in surprise as he saw what looked like a unicorn. Something seemed off about him but it was difficult to tell. His eyes looked somehow faded and unreal. As if by magic - in fact, most likely by magic - the images of bodies and blood around the saloon faded away. Wesson was left stand alone with the unicorn in front of him.

Wesson had experienced much over his long life and more than many experienced in ten lifetimes but this was something new to add to the list. Despite the introduction, he seemed friendly enough. For now. At least he'd had the decency to show himself. For now, Wesson decided not to act aggressively, although he couldn't help but be incredibly suspicious. Questions plagued his mind of what was it, why was he here and what did he mean about the cellar?

"Don't get me wrong, urm, partner," Wesson started, struggling to settle on the correct word. "But ya don't exactly strike me as the 'non-dangerous' type yourself."

"A.. Fair assessment, Sir." Fantasy simply said. He made the unicorn illusion go up to a barstool and calmly sit on it, the ghost weaving the appropriate creaking noise with a slight magic, since the illusion didn't actually weigh anything. "But nonetheless.. No foals were harmed in their return, yes? If i did wildly harm a foal, you folks would likely have just burned down the whole saloon. Couldn't have that happening." The unicorn stated, as a matter-of-factly. He seemed very sure of his plan, thinking it was wise and would prevent harm as fittingly as possible. He truly hoped no foal had harmed himself on the way back or something. He always made an effort to make 'safe' scares.

"So... Any interest in the saloon's problems, or are you just here to get rid of me and call it a day?" He asked Wesson, rather bluntly. It'd be much easier to exchange information if they had some kinda trust with one another. Fantasy found it easier to see and hear when using an illusion as standpoint, so now he could properly try reading Wesson's expression. Wesson actually looked rather impressive to Fantasy! Shame he was on the older side...

Wesson watched in curiosity as the strong unicorn found a seat at the bar. Intrigued, he followed suit and pulled up a stool alongside it. It, or perhaps he, seemed to have some idea of the impact they'd been having on the locals. Clearly, this seemed to be his plan and judging by his words, he wasn't the only problem with the saloon.

He appreciated the unicorn's straightforwardness. Wesson preferred to just speak his mind, not to be bogged down in being obscure or overly subtle in his ways. If he had something to say, he'd say it. As for right now, the pony had asked some questions that needed answering.

"No. Ya put a good scare into them. None of them colts were hurt, 'cept for their pride," Wesson replied, "As for why I'm here...well, I guess I'm still figuring that one out."

Wesson naturally stuck out a hoof to shake, then thought better of the action and retracted it. "Name's Smith Wesson. Mind telling me who, and what, ya are?"

"Name's Fantasy Flicker. And can't ya see? I'm a unicorn." He simply said, looking surprised at Wesson. Fantasy prayed Wesson couldn't see through the disguise that easily, although Fantasy was admittedly inexperienced at his whole magical shebang and Wesson was likely an experienced fellow, so it wouldn't be unreasonable. "Good to see none of them were hurt. means i still can use this horn proper." Fantasy said, trying to make the whole 'unicorn' act seem natural. Although he didn't want to try shoving it down Wesson's throat, so he continued on to something else.

"It seems the basement has become the home of some.. Right unpleasant types. Lamia, i believe we call them. Female snake people with a nasty claw and a nastier bite. Whole nest of em below here, been using my magic to keep em down from all of you at appleloosa." Fantasy stated, getting directly at the matter at hand, looking down at the weary boards. He picked up a small rock and carefully tossed it to a bit of the floor, and it gave a 'Thok' against the wood, which indeed did echo a little more than it should. Fantasy might be right about something, since it did seem the space under the wood was hollow. Fantasy looked back at Wesson. "You got a good Bucking hoof aside from your sharp eyes?" He asked, knowing that the lamia nest below would be a good challenge to clear out, But naturally, Fantasy himself would be willing to help Wesson do it.

Wesson eyed Fantasy critically. He wasn't entirely convinced by the unicorn. Something about his overall appearance was just off. However, he was seemingly a good spirited fella so he would put aside his suspicions for now.

"Llamas, ye say?" Wesson questioned, mispronouncing the unusual name.

He'd never heard of the creatures but judging by their description, they did indeed sound like the dangerous type. The thought of snake people made his mane itchy and his tail twitch. He'd had some unpleasant encounters with snakes in the past, some worse than others. The stallion unconsciously rubbed one of the scars on his coat, one that looked very much like a twin fang bite mark.

Smith Wesson was an experienced bushpony. He had survival skills and a good head on his shoulders. They were what had kept him alive in the wild south for so long. He'd taken care of many problems for many folks. This would just be another on his list.

"Well, I appreciate the helpin' of the townsfolk partner but I reckon I can take care of them. Some back up would be mighty nice though. Ya know much about 'em?"

"Know much about em? Not much else than what i've said. I figure they'll be tough types. They'll need more than one gunshot, but i take it your used to wranglin' some tougher types like monsters and whatnot, no?" Fantasy mentioned, looking over Wesson. he looked tough and experienced enough, so Fantasy trusted that Wesson would be capable of doing it.

"I'd be glad to assist you, Smith Wesson. Just so you know, despite being a unicorn, i'm not all that frail, so you won't have to worry bout protecting me or anything. Just protect yourself and i'll protect myself." The unicorn said with an affirmative nod. Truth was that he wasn't going to be hit by any claw or bites at all, but Wesson didn't need to know that. or atleast, not yet.

Fantasy was actually kinda excited at the prospect of getting in a little tuff. he always enjoyed some excitement, but usually it got stale fast, as being a ghost meant that the only thing that could hurt him was magic. Also, he made sure his illusion didn't show any of that excitement, although he couldn't hide it completely. He wasn't that well in control of his magic. The small unicorn smiled. "Ready whenever you are." he said with a calm tone, indicating he was prepared to leave whenever.

A shrug was the response Wesson gave to Fantasy's question about his experience in dealing with monsters. Bandits, griffons, rouge buffalo, wolves, and much, much more. He'd had to deal with more than his fair share of scoundrels, criminals and beasts. In comparison, snake mares didn't sound high up that scale. Still, he wouldn't be taking any chances.

Wesson pulled his revolver and checked the weapon, already knowing fully well that it was loaded and ready for action.

"So long as we understand each other Mr Flicker," he asserted, given the strange unicorn a discerning look, "I'll be keepin' an eye out for ya, be it good or bad."

With that said, the elderly earth pony made his way around the bar to where he suspected the cellar door to be. Lo and behold, it was around the back of the stocking shelves. The lock on the door had all but rusted away, leaving it open to the world. Wesson reached down carefully and lifted the hatch to peer into the darkness below.

Fantasy followed, in his giddiness totally forgetting to add sound to his footsteps, so even where the boards creaked loudly under Wesson's hooves, they were silent under the unicorns 'steps'. as Wesson tried to open the hatch, he found a magic blocking him from opening it. Fantasy waved his horn and the hatch seemed lighter in an instant. In the darkness below, he wouldn't notice much. Fantasy stood closer by, Lighting up the area below with his horn. This place was hardly a cellar anymore, large gaping tunnel like holes in both sides of it.

Deeper inside, most of the wine, wood and likewise seemed to have been removed. There was a strange little wooden effigy, it looked shamanic and somewhat barbaric. These Lamias were likelier users of a different magic. Something old and dark, much like the strange magic of the zebras. Fantasy let Wesson go in first and followed shortly after, his horn giving off a dim lavender shine, just enough to light up their direct surroundings. Fantasy internally wondered if these lamia's saw with their eyes or their tongues... Although, there was no reaction for now. it looked like the two would have to pass deeper into the tunnel that was bored right through the wine cellar.

No sooner had Wesson peered into the gloom had Fantasy lit the way for him. The interior of the cellar came into view with all the contents clear to the eye. Or lack of contents, as it seemed. Little of the old cellar seemed to remain, as much of it had been reduced to cavernous tunnels. If Wesson didn't know any better, he'd say it looked like a hive of networking paths.

He spotted the strange artefact in the cave. He was no stranger to mystically, worshipped objects. He almost felt the peculiar energies that seemed to stem from it. Cautiously, Wesson started to trot into the former cellar. It was his hope that Fantasy was close behind and ready to help.

Looking to ease any possible tension in the air, he started a light conversation while keeping his focus on his surroundings.

"So how come ya out here warnin' off folk from these parts?" he asked, frowning a little at the thought of it, "Seeming like you've been out here a while by my understandin.'"

"Well, yes. i have been here for a while. and as i see it, it's my little way of... helping to equestria. My little talent, if you will." Fantasy said with a nod as the two headed off further into the cave system, Fantasy not really paing attention to his surroundings, as he wasn't vulnerable to physical harm anyway... and looking, hearing etc. took up his energy, so he took this as a moment to relax.

The rocky caves change to sandstone, with bits of sand occasionally sliding around in little cracks. Fantasy had simply placed a magic tracker on Wesson and was following it, completely disabling his sight and ability to feel his surroundings. He kept his 'ears' open for any conversational pieces, though, but as far as he was concerned, his illusion could be walking straight through jagged rocks or quicksand, and he wouldn't notice.

The untouched nature of the wooden artefact made Wesson reluctant to remove the item or even disturb it. Going by what Fantasy had said, the Lamias were likely linked to it. Perhaps it was like a holy relic? Speculation was never his strongest suit so he resorted back to knowing what he saw. The emerging sandstone suggested that they would find more the deep they explored these tunnels.

"I think stickin' together is our-"

Wesson stopped in his tracks when he saw something unsettling. Something disturbing. Fantasy's hoof had just stepped through a rock. Through a rock. Wasting no time, he rounded on the unicorn.

"Okay partner, start talking. What in the hay are you?" His face wore a no nonsense expression as he glared at the unicorn in front of him. Of course, in his state of assertiveness, he was obvious to the cave around him. "And don't ya be sayin' you're just a unicorn 'cause I ain't buying that cart of horseapples."

Fantasy enabled his sight and looked down. His illusion's face scrunhed up a little. "Alright alright. No more secrets. You promise not to be scared?" fantasy was more worried than anything. He didn't care much for hiding his identity for his own protection, nah, he did so for others' protection. It didn't really matter what wesson said, so Fantasy just let the illusion of a unicorn vanish,, showing completely nothing. "as a matter of fact... I'm a ghost of sorts. A different kind. Think of me as a... Magic ball which can't do anything by itself, and needs to do -everything- with a unicorn spell. And i mean everything. Seeing and hearing too." a magical voice coming from nowhere specific explained, rather directly to Wesson. He wondered if wesson had seen anything so... Different in his life.

"I'm sorry for not telling you anytime sooner or just coming at you straight like this, but often it's a lot more approachable and accepted to have something to talk to. Talking to a disembodied voice floating around doesn't tend to make people feel more safe and comfortable." he said, honestly more worried about Wesson and others than he was worried about himself. After all, he was pretty hard to hurt, being a ghost and whatnot. Although he still used to be a pony, and still had his emotions and cared for other ponies around him.

Wesson's eyes widened when the unicorn in front of him simply vanished. He spun on the spot when he heard Fantasy's voice continue to be spoken from nearby. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't spot the source. Initially, he felt apprehensive and annoyed that Fantast had lied to him. But his explanation of a magic ball seemed...impossible.

In his days, Wesson had seen and experienced many things, but a ghost was never one of them. This unicorn must just be playing tricks on him. There was no way Fantasy could be telling the truth...

"Darn teleporting spells," Wesson muttered under breath before calling out, "Where'd ya go?"

"For starters, i can hear you. Secondarily, i'm still right here. Just as i said,, and invisible magical ball... Oh, right, ,there's no light here " Fantasy weaves a magic spell to light the place up. There aren't any nearby hiding spots or such, thusly if fantasy had teleported, he must have gone through the walls. Fancy unicorn magics didn't make it not possible though. Fantasy didn't have much to prove he was, as a matter of fact, a ghost. He could try this one spell he had, but that was... Risky at best.

"look, i don't have any fancy spells to convince you i'm telling the truth. But the lamia problem is still very real, and i still want to help you with it. You game or not?" Fantasy said. He knew a lost cause when he saw it, even if it required some thinking. Hwever, he also kept what was important and what wasn't fresh in his mind. And right now? Well,, of course Wesson needed to trust him, to some extent, but they needed to solve this lamia problem first. They're still vicious snake people who are dangerous for ponies. "Not that you're gonna trust me, or care when i say this, but i got your back." Fantasy used his magic to say, his voice almost sounding abit sullen. He was dissapointed at his own tiredness... But, not needing to keep a fake body moving around might help a bit with relaxing.

"Consarnit," he mumbled before remembering what he'd just been told and remained silent.

At least this ghost seemed happy to keep him alive and cared for. The light was a big help. To be fair, if Fantasy had want to get rid of him, he was sure to have made a move before now.Plus he was right about the lamia being a threat. The townsfolk came first

Wesson sucked in a reluctant breath as he finished musing. "Alright Mr Flicker, I will trust you, for now."

Having said what he felt needed to be said, Wesson continued on the journey, feeling considerably less sure of the outcome. While Fantasy was still here, the lack of an actual pony by his side was not the greatest comfort. Despite his age, the old earth pony was still sharp. His eagle eyed vision detected a fast movement in a distant tunnel. With impressive speed, he once more unholstered his revolver and locked his sights at the possible target.

"Tell me if ya see one." Wesson hoped for some assistance from his new companion since he had no idea what a lamia was.

"Will do." Fantasy simply said. He noticed there was definitly one around here somewhere. He made a double check behind them. There were no real small holes or such behind themm that anything could sneak through, so it was all clear for now. "just so ya know, though. I don't look forward. I can see everything that's close to you, but everything that's more than 7 big steps away is just black for me. But i can see in all directions, so use me as a set of nearsighted eyes in the back o' your head." Fantasy informed Wesson. Fantasy had noticed some movement coming close suddenly!

Indeed, there were two snake people rushing to him! These 'lamias' looked more like wingless dragons with a huge snake tail instead of legs! They were both female, and Wesson could easily shoot one before it reached him, and the other one got some levitating stones slammed against it's jaw, Fantasy using his strongest magic now,, levitation! Fantasy quickly got some stones and forced them against the lamia's teeth. At the very least he'd cover their teeth with the stones, maybe breaking the teeth,, but it means they wouldn't bite wesson anymore. Fantasy had no idea if they were poisonous, so he felt it was a fair precaution.

Wesson nodded in response to Fantasy's quick information. It was good to know the ghost didn't have a god line of sight or else relying too heavily on him could have been costly.

Tension hung in the air for a split second as they waited in the half lit cave. Then all of a sudden, the rushing form of two figures came into view. Wesson took in the site of the lamias; lizard-like ponies that slithered towards them on their tails. His gun was already pointed towards them as he locked onto his first target.

His hooves were a blur on the trigger and hammer as a quick succession on three shots erupt from his revolver. They all hit one of the lamia's centre mass, knocking it down. The other was assaulted with a hail of stones that Wesson assumed came from Fantasy. It hissed in pain and faltered from the barrage before launching itself at the one visible target, Wesson.

The earth pony promptly ducked away and fired his remaining rounds at the creature from point blank range. The lamia let out a defeated hiss before collapsing. This left only one left, but the second lamia was already standing again. It slithered quickly towards Wesson who was reloading as fast as his hooves allowed.

Finding no object in his direct surroundings, Fantasy mentally prepared himself as he decided to use illusion instead. It was... Not something he enjoyed doing, and all wesson would see was a strange light infront of his. he'd hear a loud hissing, but over that he heard another soft noise, a sort of mix and mash of horrible noises, both very high and some very low, but it sounded very sharp. It was soft though, and as he could see again, he noticed the other Lamia fallen on the ground, eyes wide open in a strange expression. fantasy was pleased his illusions only had to look one direction, cause he was fairly sure that even if what he had just shown may not knock wesson out, it'd at the very least stun him.

However, summoning such a powerful and unpleasant illusion on such a short notice was very very taxing on the ghost... It took a while, ,but he announced it, in a soft, whisper like tone that seemed to come directly from beside wesson's ears. "i'm nearly out of my magical energy. Move slowly and know that i can only hear for a bit, not see or feel. You'll need to warn me if you need my help. I need to reserve all the energy i can." fantasy said, before going in his near seneseless state, using just enough magic to stay near to wesson and hear a warning if wesson asked for it. He knew Wesson had sharp senses, and trusted wesson would be able to handle himself for a bit, espeically since he knew what to look out for now.

Sensing his other foe approaching, Wesson spun to face it only to be pleasantly surprised that the lamia was lying motionless on the ground. There hadn't been any signs of attack or struggle. He wanted to question what Fantasy had done but he figured that the line of questioning could take all day. Instead, the earth pony accepted the help without pause.

"Alright partner," he acknowledged Fantasy's warning and continued to press on. He'd have to be more careful than that if he wanted to get out of here alive.

He kept his eyes peeled for signs of movement as he rounded another corner. The sandstone seemed to stretch further although the area directly in front of them opened into a larger cavern space. There was a soft crunch under hoof as Wesson stepped forward. He leaned down to inspect the object and grimaced at the sight. The entire ground of this section was covered in dried and peeling snake skin.

Walking through hives of snake monsters while accompanied by a ghost was not how Wesson had imagined this day would go when he woke up this morning.

"Ya know, I'm starting to doubt whether your real and old age has finally caught up to me," Wesson commented aloud, an edge of humour in his voice, "T'ain't everyday you meet a ghost."