This here's a Ghost Town (EEU)

"Oh Please, i don't even have a body anymore, haven't had one for about 16 seasons, what do you expect me to want?" Fantasy retorted before letting out a hearty chuckle. "An experienced wilderness camper though... no wonder you had no issues with the lamias. You ever seen Desert Wurms? the giant ponyeating burrowing kind?" Fantasy asked with sudden curiousity, wondering how life was in the huge and dangerous deserts of southern (expanded) equestria.

As the two were practically by his home, Fantasy chose to dash in, transforming into his easier to uphold more ghostly looking form as he went inside, situating himself near a table if he could find one, and leaning on it with crossed arms, not looking much like a pony at all, due to the lack of hindlegs and the additions of ghostly claws on his forehooves.

Wesson accompanied Fantasy into his house. Again, shack was more of an approbate term. It was a single story wooden building. While the decor was cluttered and rustic, the building itself was clearly very studiedly crafted and built to last. A porch extended out over the main entrance where a well-worn chair sat for viewing the horizon's setting sun in the evenings. Inside, the house was one large room encompassing of a stove, bed, table, chairs and storage. Various nicknacks decorated the shelves and walls, from torn flags and clothes, to old photographs and newspaper clippings.

"Ya mean like a Tatzlworm? Came across one once before. Nasty thing. Ate our whole wagon of supplies," Wesson recollected, "Lucky for us, that also meant the crate of dynamite we had in back. One torch down the throat later and we had ourselves Tatzlworm soup."

As Wesson spoke, he took out a whiskey bottle and poured two tumbles for them. He trotted over to Fantasy, the ghostly form having taken a place at the table. He placed the glass in hoof in front of his strange new friend, removed the glass he held in his teeth and raised it in a toast. "Cheers."

Fantasy curiously listened, smiling and chuckling a bit. He was about to touch some with a finger before stopping himself. He seemed to be thinking about something. He levitated the glass and a random cheap looking plate. He put the plate under his clawed hoof as he poured the contents of the glass through his hoof. As the whiskey 'touched' fantasy's ghostly hoof, it dried up and sizzled, bubbling strangely before changing into a rather unseemly looking blackish-yellow ooze, a very small plop of that stuff falling onto the plate. Fantasy's 'ghostly eating' definitely wasn't the most... pleasant way of eating, and was rather messy, too.

Fantasy's ghostly image shook strangely and his expression changed to that of someone very surprised, one eye half closed and the other wide open. "Ow. That burns in me magical tastebuds. i don't believe i'm the pony for these kind of drinks. If i had a throat, i'd be coughing right now." He stated rather flatly, his head reeling backwards a short second before he shook it and looked normal again. "Well, not that i ever would have tried it when i was still in my body. never got old enough for this kinda stuff." he mentioned with a chuckle. "So i'm still glad i had a try." He smiled to wesson, not wanting to come off rude for not liking the whiskey.

Wesson watched with what must by now a familiar expression of curiosity as Fantasy went about his procedure of tasting the drink. The earth pony laughed wholeheartedly at the ghost's shivered reaction to his drink. Wesson himself took a good swig from his glass, the alcohol having no effect on him, apart from causing him to smile with satisfaction at the warm burning taste.

"Guess it's not for everyone," he admitted, as he reached across into a cupboard to pull out the apple pie he'd promised on their journey. "What was the strongest thing ya had before ya 'came like you are?"

The question was a bit more direct than Wesson would have liked, but it seemed they had both warmed up to each other in terms of questions and answers. He was hoping Fantasy would be happy to divulge further into his past so he could learn more him.

"Nothing! this is the first strong drink i've ever had. I passed onto this body when i was just a late teen." He mentioned to Wesson. Since he said it's been 16 seasons since then, he was only a young adolescent in actual age now, then. Fantasy decided to do a little effort to create a 'body' infront of Wesson. An orange earth pony with brown wavy hair and ephemeral blue eyes appeared opposite to Wesson, still looking young and just short of full height, although he could be full grown by now. "This is who i was, living at the safety of the Vanhoover beaches, at the time. Some traveling and an ominous swamp later, though..." The earth pony smiled and closed his eyes, said eyes slowly vanishing.

He reopened them as two 'fake' eyes made of glowing purple blueish magic, his coat slowly becoming Pale and his hair whitening, Making the illusion slowly transition into his new self. It was... FAR scarier than Fantasy might have expected, cause it looked like a body shriveling and drying out into a ghost right in front of Wesson's much less dead face.

Momentarily wondering if he'd technically just given alcohol to a minor, Wesson served up a slice of apple pie for his guest and himself. Hopefully Fantasy would find it more to his liking than the whiskey. As he took a bite of his slice, he focused onto what his companion was saying regarding his past.

Ominous swamp? There were certainly no swamps around here, or anywhere in the southern desert as far as he knew. It was something of a relief to hear that whatever had caused Fantasy to change was unlikely to harm anyone else that Wesson would encounter. One ghostly unicorn pony was enough, especially since he was friendly. It wasn't worth the worry to think about what a bad hearted pony - especially some that sprung to Wesson's mind - could do with those powers.

"Mind if I ask what exactly happened to you in that swamp?" he asked, deciding to simply ask it as straight as possible. He was curious and hopefully Fantasy would be open enough to indulge him in an answer.

Fantasy 'ate' the piece of apple pie, coming off much more delightful after having consumed it. he smiled brightly and watched Wesson as he asked the question. he tapped his fuzzy forehoof to his chin... "So. as you saw, i'm not a born unicorn, but an earth pony, rather, yes? well, i found a shack there, little smaller, much worse state than your shack here. This shack presumably belonged to a Zebra who never made it back from getting potion ingredients or something. Tartarus if i know. Anycase, i found a book of dark spells, those anypony could cast. I knew they were dark magic, and were likely going to screw me over... But i was an Earth pony with a talent for magic, i didn't feel like i had much to lose! Before i know it, i had myself summoning an evil ghost, who offered me a gift of magic. In return i had to offer, and i quote 'Every gift Equestria gave you but you never appreciated'. now that sounds like a bang-up deal. i get magic, and only have to give away things i don't care for?" Fantasy stood tall and held his arms wide, continuing onward with a large expression, although he was still pretty small. "Sign me up!, is what i felt. and i took the deal. Before i know it, he included my physical body and ability to show emotions on a great list of things i 'never appreciated'." he said with an eyerolling tone. he tapped his chin some more.

"So, i basically lost everything, but i got my magic. And he got my body. Infuriated, it didn't take me long to figure out my magic and what to do, so i banished him back into that dark book i found him in! i banished my body in there too. So that's how i became a ghost, and got me my unicorn magic." he nodded, finishing his tale to Wesson. he didn't mind sharing it at all, infact, he liked sharing his backstory and being honest about it, and he trusted wesson. the backstory didn't exactly reveal Fantasy's weakness, anyway, so he had no reason not to tell it, in his own eyes.

Tales of dark magic weren't uncommon across Equestria but the recurring theme was just as Fantasy had admitted himself; betrayal and sadness. The forces of darkness rarely ever bought joy or happiness, at least not to good people. The tale of Nightmare Moon was the kindergarten example to all colts and fillys to avoid such evil. To think Fantasy had simply chosen to ignore all of that made Wesson hard pressed to feel too much sympathy.

At the same time, an earth pony with a talent for magic would surely leave a lot to be desired. Wesson believed that all ponies had a destiny ahead of them, so perhaps it was Fantasy's destiny to find that book and become what he is today.

Wesson finished his pie as the Fantasy recounted his past. He savoured the last bite as the tale concluded, the sweet taste seeming null against the story he'd just heard.

"That's a lot to take in. I've seen and heard a lot in my time but nothin' quite like that," Wesson admitted, a hoof raising to his chin. "I can only say I'm sorry that it happened to ya. T'ain't exactly a fate to wish upon some pony.

Fantasy... just shrugged. he was fine with where he was now. as far as he was concerned, it had it's advantages and disadvantages, and he finally was in a proper state to travel the world. although it'd be -awesome- to have a unicorn companion to help him around with what little ghostly problems he had. Someone who could use magic to pull Fantasy's Essence with them, so fantasy could ride the train and whatnot. "Such is life, and i made the choice very consciously. I knew it was going to hurt in the long run, but in my eyes, it was, and still is, a worthy trade for someone in my position. I knew back then as well as i know now that dark magic isn't to be trusted, but i have accepted the cost, and require no pity. I'm fine where i am." he said, with an earnest smile which could catch anyone off guard. he was far more practical-minded than most would expect of someone in this situation.

"Besides, i've reach my own little ultimate goal. My own place and purpose within our large and ever so ruthless land." he said, wistfully looking outside to the vast desert outside of appleloosa, knowing it was full of monsters and dangers, and willing to do his best to keep the average pony safe from them.

Wesson was surprised to see that Fantasy didn't seemed at all regretful for the deeds committed in his past. There seemed to be no regret to his actions despite the obvious consequences that had followed. The earth pony could relate to some extent. His life had dealt him a few bum hands over the years. He'd simply accept the twists and turns of fate and moved on. Rolled with the punches, so to speak.

It was good to see that despite the misfortune, Fantasy had seemingly had the most out of his peculiar life (or lack there of). To have something akin to a goal, to reach 'my own little ultimate goal' as he put it was a positive way of approaching the cursed life. Be it of a ghost or a gunslinger.

"I have to say, you're one of the most fascinating folks I have ever met, if'n ya don't mind me sayin' so," he commented, pouring himself another glass of whiskey, "I've known plenty of ponies in my time with interestin' tales, including myself, but you sir...you take the cake. Or pie, in this case."

"Really now? Never met a hippogryff trying to be a wizard? perhaps a Donkey with an anger problem giving him the strength to match the strongest earth pony? Ever heard of a Unicorn caring more for swords than spells? Ooh... You know what i also hear is out there? Artificial alicorns~ Somepony, allegedly got him or herself a horn to go with their wings~ such a fascinating world. I must say, you're rather interesting for an Earth Pony too. I may not have lived long, but usually Earth ponies either avoid monsters or get upfront and personal. they rarely choose to shoot a bow or revolver, especially when compared to the Pegasi's airstrikes and the unicorns magical blasts!" Fantasy said, just prattling on and crossing his hooves over the table. He reveled in the fact that the world was such a large large place.

Fantasy whirled his fingers around, easily summoning illusions of beautiful magical groves, traveling ponies, large fields with monsters strewn about. An illusionist like him could easily put on whole plays on his own, probably. It was certainly a fancy bit of magic, then again.. For someone who had to cast spells to interact with the world, it wasn't a surprise. Although Fantasy had never explained to Wesson how -exactly- he had to cast spells to see, hear and so on. He just said he needed to 'rest his eyes' or 'ears' in the caves with Wesson. Fantasy currently was staring dreamily to all the illusions he could summon up all around Wesson's shack without much issue.

The list of interesting and unique encounters that Fantasy proceeded to list off was rather impressive. However, Wesson couldn't find himself recognising any such meetings with the types of beings he was talking about. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised when Fantasy mentioned he himself was interesting, although he did feel inclined to ask what he meant by 'for an Earth Pony.'

Despite how freely Fantasy had spoken about his past, Wesson felt reluctant to talk about anything in his younger years, even with such an open invitation to do so. Part of him felt like it would be good to open up but another part told him he shouldn't. Issues of his past were his to deal with and trouble for anyone else involved.

His attention turned to the sudden flux of events in his shack. Illusions began to spring up around the pair. Monsters, scenery, ponies. They seemed to spirit out the very air itself and disappear just as easily. In a sense, it was quite enchanting to watch.

"I suppose this was part of the 'gifts' you acquire?" inquired Wesson, "Somethin' you gained from you dark magic deal?"

"Hmm? This magic? no, absolutely not. I learned this from my own work and knowledge. You could see it as... The deal only giving me the horn, none of the actual magic or skills. as far as i'm concerned. i don't sense any dark magic in my own spells, but i might be blind to it. i hope not, though. I did have to practice, and cast magic a lot to be able to do this much. I couldn't have done this two years ago." he said, continuing on the illusions with ease. It was easy now he had rested and reattained his magic, and it wasn't too tiring. after all, he basically had kept up the same level of illusions, and more cause they included scent, in the saloon he was haunting.

He seemed partial to these illusions, in some way or another. They were important to him, they meant something for some reason. Wesson could tell by the way he looked at the magic disappearing in his clawed hooves, to only form a new illusion which flew out into the space once more.

Wesson didn't form a response as he simply watch the illusions move around him. For lack of a better word, they were quite beautiful. Wisp forms of magic created figures in each illusion that danced across his vision. It was almost hypnotising to just sit and watch it all take place around him. Eventually, he collected his thoughts once more to return to the magical ghost sitting across from him.

"You ever figured on wanting to turn back to normal?"

Again, it was quite a serious line of questioning, one that Wesson wouldn't tread lightly. However, he felt compelled to ask in case thoughts of help were on Fantasy's mind. While the ghost didn't seem to voice any regrets about his condition, the gunslinger felt it was his duty to ensure that there was nothing he could do to help him with his condition.

Fantasy looked to him and thought about that statement. "It's.. it's rough. Not being able to see, hear or feel anything without casting a magic spell first. and i don't really sleep, either, Cause i don't have a body to sleep with, i just kinda float around without any senses... Not too mention, requiring to cast spells to exist..." He said wistfully, playing with an illusion. Now it might hit Wesson. Fantasy just said he needed to cast spells to exist... and these illusions. he cared for them because they were him. In a twisted way, they were what of himself he shows to the world, and without them, he cannot be seen.

"but..." He closed his claws and smiled. "I'm still me, and that hasn't changed, and wouldn't change if i turned back to normal. " he sighed and dispelled all the illusions so it was just the two of them. "And being a ghost has had it's pluses. i don't get tired, and as long as i don't overexert myself, i can protect people all around the clock. I'm always in effect. Unicorns can be scary, cause i could be controlled by them." he reminisced on his earth pony form, and it showed as his illusionary body slowly changed into it. he was in deep thought now.

Wesson watches in further interest as the full extent of what he was seeing became apparent to him. In essence, the illusions were an extension of Fantasy himself. This was how he lived, how he existed. This became even more clear as Fantasy's body seemed to change, warping into a from resembling that of an earth pony. His magic displayed how he thought and felt, as well as acted. It was a strange form of existence to say the least.

Seeing that he'd made Fantasy dwell on some harsh realities, Wesson aimed to relieve the mood.

"Oh I agree with ya there. Unicorns with their magic can be a whole heap of trouble. Once had me a stand off between two unicorn twins. Now two on one ain't the worst odds I ever faced, but they both had two six-shooters," Wesson recalled, slipping back into the persona of an elderly storyteller. "Of course, they can levitate their guns as they please, so I got four barrels staring down at me."

The earth pony twisted his right hind leg around to display a scar across his inner leg, located just above a much tastier looking injury. "I was lucky to just be grazed in that one."

Fantasy smiled. "oh, i can imagine that that felt somewhat unfair. You're a miracle of a shot, doubly so for someone who has to hold a standard revolver with a hoof based trigger. I haven't even seen unicorns fire anything with your accuracy, so you really are a testament to the powers that are within earth ponies." Fantasy mentioned rather bluntly. The reality of the whole thing actually quickly passed him by.

"I was never born with that.. Determination or talent towards anything. If existing as a ghost is peculiar for me, then existing as an earth pony was simply unsatisfying." he said, smiling and true to how he felt earlier. He mentally imaged said duel, before the thought passed onwards.
"you ever get visited by archer ponies? I've seen them in all types, like those who are pegasi using their wings to draw their bowstrings." he said, accidentally rhyming,, but smiling once he saw that he did. Rhyming was fun.

Wesson tipped his hat at the compliment to his shooting abilities. Not that it should surprise any pony that he was a good shot. After all, if he wasn't good with a revolver, he wouldn't be sporting a crosshair on his flank.

"Can't say I ever faced off against archer ponies, though I had to dodge some nasty Zebra spears before. I tell ya, they may look like sticks of wood but those suckers pack a wallop," he answered, before reflecting on Fantasy's point of existence.

"Ya know, I believe everyone's got a destiny to follow. Ain't none two destinies the same neither. It's like the hands of cards you get dealt at the start of life. It may be unusual, but if it was in your path to find that dark magic and do what you did that made you what you are today...well, I guess that's was you hand to play."

"That's a fair point. Destiny never said things have to be obvious. But i don't worry about destiny, usually. It doesn't really matter what's in store for you, aslong as you make the most of the moment your in." He said, using his hands to create a hoof of cards infront of him, facing away from Wesson.

"After all, when you're playing with a deck as large as life's..." He said, creating another illusion, that of a deck of cards reaching the top of wesson's ceiling.
"You can't predict the outcome of your opponent's hand, no matter how hard you try. there's just more possibilities than you can account for." he said, throwing the cards up in the air, but they slowly floated back down, not showing their face until they reached the table. "And sooner or later, by just playing the game as it goes, you'll see what cards equestria has given you, so it's no point worrying about them until the moment they show themself to you." The cards on the table formed a straight flush. Fantasy smiled, showing why he had a rather simple mentality in it all. Destiny might be fun and all, but aslong as it's a mystery, there's no use worrying about it!

It was with a look of amusement that Wesson watched Fantasy form a huge stack of cards that reached the top of his shack before scattering them across the room to float down to the table. He agreed on the unpredictable nature of life, but his point about not worrying for the future and tackling issues when they surfaced caused a frown on Wesson's muzzle.

"I dunno about that. I'd say you wanna look at the road ahead 'n' try to figure out where your going," he countered. He poured himself another glass of whiskey. The dark brown liquid swirled in its container as the stallion eyed it carefully, as if it held the answers to the world's problem. In truth, he knew it didn't. He was just gearing up for another story.

"When I was younger, I used to run with a group of stallions. Good folks they were, at the time. We all had a similar aim; travel the land, seeking adventure, fame and fortune. We'd help folk out where we could. Got pretty goof at it too. But as time went by, things changed. Not all of us saw things the same way no more. In the end, it was just me and my buddy Ace that could see the big picture."

Wesson finished his drink, setting the glass down "Can't help but think that I was blind for so long not to see how things had changed. If I'd just looked up to see where things were headin', everything might have turned out differently..."

Fantasy listened with intrigue, as Wesson told the ghost his story, and what was lingering on his mind. Fantasy nodded and thought about it. "Well, i didn't mean to say to not worry about the future entirely. I just meant to not worry about what you don't know. You can still prepare for it, but if your plan's not flexible... I'm sorry for your losses though. Shamefully enough, just like the future's a mystery which you cannot fully change, the past has already happened and can no longer be changed." Fantasy stated as a matter of fact. His outlook on the world was very focused on the here and now, the joy of adrenaline. He didn't care much for the bigger picture, because he couldn't see himself in it!

Although he could understand why others cared about it. It was a default in pony nature, you wanted to do something and you wanted to hit that big picture and be part of something larger. it was fulfilling. "So, if you don't mind me asking, how do you see the big picture now?" He said, creating a 3d Map of all of equestria on the table with an illusion.

There isn't any response that Wesson could give to Fantasy's sympathy that he hadn't done many times before. His life was what he had made out of it. Just as he'd said before, destiny had lead him and he'd played his hand how he wanted to at the time. He could tell that his view on life differed from Fantasy's, but it was an interesting conversation to have with someone who was not afraid to avoid it.

"I can't pretend I ain't done wrong in my life, but it's not like I haven't done my utmost to make amends," Wesson stated, almost guardedly. Call it a force of habit, but ponies often confronted him when they knew about his past and he was used to being put on the defensive. He demanded himself to relax here though. It wasn't like he was on trial. "The way I see the big picture now? Well...I can't rightly say I know. To much goin' on for just one pony to say what's so."

To illustrate his point, Wesson gestured to the illusionary map of Equestria that Fantasy had created. "I guess I see it so that I can help folks with what I can do. In a perfect world, you wouldn't need me. But nothin's perfect, so here I am. Take the good with the bad."

Fantasy smiled. In his mind, The two were unerringly similar, although they both likely wouldn't accept it. Wesson looked for purpose in a world so big that you couldn't know everything that's happening. Fantasy simply accepted that it was beyond his knowledge to know all that's occuring, and accepted this, focusing on the smaller picture instead. They both weren't sure what they thought about the big picture, but one still saw something, while the other was no longer looking. Fantasy thought on this for a moment, being silent as he looked over the illusion of all of equestria.

He'd continue on if he had something to say, but he didn't really have something big to say to that. He didn't care if his heroics were necessary or not. The matter of fact was, he enjoyed them, and he could help people with it. That's why he cared for his heroics. he didn't believe a perfect world could exist anyway, and thinks it's no use thinking about it or working towards it, because it's so ludicrously crazy and out of sight. Fantasy didn't really share any of these thoughts, though, just thinking on his own for a bit.

Wesson sat quietly with Fantasy as the pair contemplated their paths in life. The earth pony had to wonder what could be next for either of them. More adventurea for certain, but where would it take them? Would the next one be his last? Would Fantasy find someway to be pony again, if he even wanted to be?

These questions left his mind when he noticed movement outside. Squinting, Wesson leaned towards the dusty window. Through the old stained glass he spotted a group of ponies, lead by the unicorn mage.

"Looks like someone didn't wanna keep quiet," he stated, "Reckon we're 'bout to have company. I can deal with 'em but might be best if you hightail it outta here."

"For real? Fellow's too suspicious for his own good. Hm. Hightailing ain't within my abilities, though. i can only move at set speeds. Hmm. I'll distract the masses, you hold off Pinky McSuspicious, please. And i suppose bye, for now. Perhaps i'll try sticking around random encampments i find in the desert wilds, helping out fellows that are like you!" Fantasy's illusion smiled before vanishing like smoke. Fantasy was practically gone in an instant, and Wesson had no way of knowing in which direction the 'ghost' had went.

It Didn't take long before Wesson heard loud yelling and the stamping of hooves against dry ground. There was a large illusion of a Sand Wyrm in the distance, the thing was easily as large as a dragon. There was no indication that it was going to attack Appleloosa, but many a pony would nonetheless rather be in the comfort of their homes instead of outside when large creatures were abound.
Any smart pony would find it strange that a sand wyrm was burrowing without anypony feeling the ground shake or tremor. It wasn't the most realistic illusion, but sight and sound should be enough to scare off most ponies, and make holding off the unicorn much easier for Wesson.

The 'sentient magic' that was Fantasy, meanwhile was moving at a set pace just above a trot, deeper into the uninhabitable and dangerous desert.