Vampire Hunter D: Rumors & Whims

Chapter 1: Feeling a little Peckish...?

Drunken laughter, clinking of glasses, and gossiping men and women was the norm of any bar. The patrons inside payed no mind to the man dressed in black from head to toe as he sat himself at a booth far into a corner, away from nosy onlookers, if there were any.
The waitress caught a glimpse of the man's heavenly features underneath the wide-brimmed hat he wore as he passed her earlier. She briefly accentuated her "assets" before slyly walking over and taking his order. "Hello, darling~ What can I get for you?", her hands held close the pen and small note pad together above her chest.

Her arms created an upside-down "V" which was an apparent effort to make her already endowed chest seem bigger than before. The beautiful man payed no mind and simply said with a smooth, cold voice "A bowl of soup and some ale".
A shiver made its way down her back as she smiled, "Can do sweetheart~", she playfully wink and turned away. The sway in her hips made the men nearby stare in desire as she passed them. A hoarse voice comments on the provocative nature of the waitress.

It seems to be coming from the hunter's left hand. "Hehe, seems you have an admirer, D".
A pained groan comes from below, but the sound goes unnoticed with all the nightlife about. D knew what the parasite was going to say and it was met with same response every time. His nails dug into its face as the groan was no more. It had receded back into his hand; that however, didn't stop it from nagging the Hunter.

"Fine-! Next time a woman that willing comes around I'm not gonna stop ya from ripping' her throat out!"

D couldn't deny it, and his fangs which he kept hidden slightly poked his bottom lip. He has gone more than a few months without satisfying his accursed thirst for blood. It didn't help that this town, or any town settled in a desert had ample heat, humidity, and all the more monsters to get rid of in daylight. Lucky him it was night, and the moon was no doubt shining its brand of light onto this little Oasis known as Imoo. The desert outside of Imoo was know for it wraiths; though few in number, you had to look hard or just be plain ignorant of which direction you're heading to run into them.

With D's luck he had run into them just before hitting the final way-point to Imoo. Normally, D would of had no problem dispatching the dead, but his ride to Imoo had worn him down and these wraiths were not of your average haunt. Bodies of those lost to the expanse of the desert are never found; so the souls of the damned burn with the scalding heat they succumbed to. Appearing at dusk, they blocked his path; any distinguishing features they had were worn away by the cruelty of nature. Nothing left but husks of once human remains. Screeching, the cries of their pain had reached his ears as he braved the heat unfazed and swiftly cut down the tortured souls.

Here he was now, waiting patiently for his meal and hoped to quickly head for his payed sanctuary above the bar; an argument erupted from somewhere pulling him from his quiet corner.

"Im tellin' ya! She's alive! I know she is, by God!"

"Ah, shut ur yapping! Everybody knows that village's Hunter is good as dead!"

Engaged in heated discussion were two young men and some old times. Any other time D would of brushed off the noise that comes from pointless arguing, but the mention of a Hunter and a village peaked his interest. He tuned his ears to listen, and heard some juicy details.

"Look you old coots! We both know what we saw and damn it she's alive! She cut down those wraiths not a while back and now you're saying she's dead?!"

"And a while back you mean a year ago? Sonny, I tell you I haven't met a soul that's wandered off that trail and made it back. So face the facts; the Village of Petals is S.O.L"

Village of Petals, it lies in the north cradled between a mountain range and a lake. Across the frontier its said the fertile soil which the village sat upon was a gold mine for farmers. The crops they yielded were bountiful and even in the harshest of winters you could still find buds of earlier crops growing out of the snow. One of the young men, Gregory looked as if had he enough; pulling out what was thought to be a gun from his coat as the older gents backed away.

"H-hey, now! No n-need to get violent!"

"If you say she's alive, she's alive! No need for more dead than there is in this desert is there?!"

The other young man, assumed to be Gregory's friend scoffed, "Oh, put a sock in it you senile bastards! Lord knows you and your "friends" have put too many a bullet in travelers passing through; including that Hunter".

Gregory held whatever came from his coat pocket like he was shielding a child from witnessing the cruel reality of this world. "Right here-! In my hands is proof she's alive!", revealing what laid behind his right hand; a flower sat in the palm of Gregory's left hand. His audience, however, eyed the flower with animosity.

What happened next led D to silently pass the clamor of shouts and fists towards the stairs leading to the boarding rooms above. Stopping he casted a glance at the middle aged bartender who quickly complied and handed over his room key. The man had caught a glimpse of D's face. He could only wish, as D began to proceed up the stairs, that he was a woman.
He leaned over the bar wiping away the sweat on his face with a handkerchief from his breast-pocket.

The rosy color faintly drained from his cheeks as his pallor ran white. A shock it was to feel that funny way. Especially coming from a man himself! As he let commotion of the bar continue the young waitress came out from the kitchen with a tray of food. She looked at the deserted table where the handsome fellow sat; the bartender saw the familiar gleam of desperation in her eyes as he reluctantly raised her hopes.

"If you're look for that fella dressed in all black he's holed up in his room"

She turned excitedly, yet remembered what she held in her dainty hands and ascended up the stairs. Her shoulder, however, was gripped sternly by the middle-aged man. "Oh! Let me go, Korbi!", she whined childishly. His grip softened, "Suzura....", his voice may have been hoarse, but held strength to give his advice over the brawl in the bar. "I don't know what funny business you got in your head, but you deliver his meal and that's it".

She huffed, "Stop butting your nose where it don't belong, Korbi!", She sharply turned from his grip while keeping food and drink from spilling as she continued her trek up stairs. Before she turned the corner Korbi yelled, "Don't you wanna know what room he's in? Can't knock on every single door can ya?", Suzura looked down on Korbi and smugly stated, "Aw, do you think I'm that dense, Korb? I looked at the key rack afore I made my way up here and the only room you don't let customers board is the last one down the hall".

Caught in the middle of her name, Korbi was pulled away by the sound of a gunshot and a lamp crashing to the ground. Korbi's temper overflowed and as he grabbed his laser rifle the anger he felt was not at the menagerie of the young and old piled to the floor, but to the loathsome Hunter above as he yelled obscenities at the men and butted the two younglings out while pulling the old times by their collars and threw them to their feet out the door. What was left remaining was a revolver with a shell discarded and that damned flower the boy Gregory held from afore. He sighed as he told the rest of the patrons to continue their merry way as he picked both up. The sheriff moseyed on in; giving the usual dry lines of proper crowd. Korbi just nodded and listened, but was eyeing the flower just mere inches away as he nonchalantly retorted back at the sheriff; both jovially laughing away the stress into the night.