Ebon Sturge was the leader of a decent sized bandit group. He was a large man, standing almost 7 feet with a face that looked like it had been introduced to many a fist. He had gone through military training in Atlas before deserting, and he used that training to help his men. In his group, he demanded discipline, order, and strict obedience. In return, he gave them results. Practicing banditry in this day and age was a difficult endeavor, with Huntsmen with super-powers, corrupted animals that could sense dark emotions, and other bandit groups that would love to take his own on, he personally felt justified in saying that he and his men earned everything that they stole.

He made sure that he and his men followed certain rules. The first one - avoid killing people, if at all possible. When you start killing people, than people who knew them started getting antsy and were willing to put out rewards and such for the removal of him and his men. Additionally, by killing him you kill a source of income. A caravan that's been completely wiped out is a caravan that's not coming through that area again! And that goes into rule two - never steal everything. You've gotta think long term. If you steal everything, that caravan is unlikely to come through the area again. But, if you only steal a portion, than they're more likely to come back again and you can rob them again.

It's a lot like caring for animals really, Ebon thought to himself.

Of course, they had to be fast in order to avoid the Grimm. Whenever they attacked, the Grimm would sense the emotions of those they were attacking, giving them a narrow window of opportunity to escape with whatever they've gotten.

Then of course there is rule three. Never mess with the Branwen clan. He had never met them personally before, but he had a vague idea of where they usually raided, and he made sure to stay away from it. He had no doubt in his mind that he and his group would be demolished without mercy, and he preferred to live, thank you very much.

All of this just emphasized the need for discipline amongst the men. Which was why he was staring coldly at the group of men that come back.

There had been reports of a caravan going through the area, and he sent some of his men to raid it. Meanwhile, he started to direct the rest of his men to start taking down the camp so they could relocate. This would be the fourth large raid in this area, and he always made sure to move the group after a time. It wouldnt do for a Huntsman to get curious and notice a pattern.

It shouldn't have taken too long. Less than an hour to get to the ambush spot, a bit more than an hour to get back, and the fighting wouldn't take that long either. So, after three hours had passed, he felt justified in being nervous, and he pushed his men to pack things up faster.

Then, the scouts reported that the men were almost back, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Of course, when he actually saw them come through the gates, that breath of relief died in his lungs, while the rest of the bandits were trying to hold in their snickering.

They didn't have any supplies, and after looking at then he could tell that they had been in a fight of some kind, seeing the nicks and scratches, as well as several of the men needing to be supported by others.

The reason he could see said scratches so easily? Each man had only their skivvies and boots on.

Faces red with embarrassment and frustration, the men made straight to the tents before Ebon barked out an order to stand in front of him and give a report.

After some shuffling and muttering they did so, eventually forming a line.

Ebon looked at them impassively. "Well?"

One of the men took a step forward, "Sir, we were ambushed before we reached the ambush point."

He stiffened, "By whom?" Most people would just kill us, not... humiliate them like this.

The man winced. "We... arent quite sure sir. We never saw them."

Ebon stared at the man. "Explain."

The man wetted his lips, "About five minutes from the ambush point, we found ourselves under attack from somebody shooting arrows. After dodging the first wave, we -"

"Wait" another bandit interrupted, "you got your butts kicked by sonebody shooting twigs at you? not bullets?"

This caused a wave of laughter to go through the men before Ebon silenced it with a glare, then gestured at the man.

He took a deep breath. "We took refuge behind the trees after the first wave and tried to locate the archer. Unfortunately, another archer must jave been in the trees, and we were soon under fire from a different direction. At first we thought that they were just bad aims, but we soon realized that he wasnt aiming for us really," and the man grimaced. "He was aiming at our clothes and guns. Turns out that they were actually really good aims... They managed to get close enough to cut the clothes, but not enough to damage us."

"A few of the men" He gestured to the men that needes to be supported, "Realized they weren't trying to hurt us, and so they charged in their direction. It didn't quite work."

One of the other men spoke up, "It'sh not our fault!" He stumbled forward, his voice slightly slurred and his eyes bloodshot. "The cowardsh w-w-wouldn't fashe us in acthual combat! We woulda gotsh them if they did! Washn't honorable, what he did!" He then started mumbling about something that couldn't be made out.

Ebon frowned heavily at the new speaker, before looking at the original, who shrugged. "It appears that he poisons his arrows with some kind of drug. Believe it or not, they started getting better about half an hour ago. After six of our men fell this way, we started running back to camp here." He sighed, "The archers continued on until they managed to cut off most of the clothing on us. However, after we started retreating, most of the men could've sworn they heard a male laughing somewhere in the woods." He grimaced. "That's about all that we have on that."

Ebon took a deep breath, furiously thinking. Eventually he came to a conclusion, and started shouting out orders. "Continue breaking down the camp! Scouts, keep an eye out and stay close to the camp. IF ANY signs of these archers are heard, seen, or even SMELT, I want a warning. Get these drunken fools something to counteract those drugs! We're moving in three hours, now GO!"

As everybody ran to follow those orders, Ebon looked pensively at the forest. The archers most likely knew where they were now. He cursed under his breath and quickly assisted in finishing packing everything. After being humiliated and frustrated like that, the Grimm should have been all over them, yet the men hadn't seen anything. This most likely meant that the archers were killing the Grimm to allow the bandits through. The only reason he could think of for doing that would be to see where the bandits were stationed.

He growled under his breath. This wasn't ideal in any form, but he didn't see any choice. One of the safe locations that they picked out was highly defensible. They'd go there and bunker down for a while. See what comes.

A short while later they started moving out. Nobody noticing the man wearing a green and brown cloak, watching them.

Nor did they notice a lone crow listening in on the conversation and begin flapping away.

Qrow flew to the nearest village, Hertstone, deep in thought. So, we've got some vigilantes out here. It wasn't any information that Ozpin had asked for, but it was interesting all the same. Last he had checked, he wasn't aware of any Hunter that used bows and arrows for combat. Or for anything else for that matter! It just wasn't very practical when guns did more damage, and ammo wasn't that expensive. Well, he amended, for Hunters anyway. The common citizen might have some difficulty in getting some. Perhaps that's who the archers were, a group of concerned citizens.

He had waited around the bandits area until they had started moving, and he made a guess as to where they would end up, resolving to let the village leader know about the threat and that they should avoid that area.

Qrow flew into town and transformed behind the bar. He was done travelling for the day, and was very much ready for a good meal, a soft bed, and some booze. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He'd been flying non-stop for most of the day, only stopping and resting while he was eavesdropping on the bandits and stalking them, and the fatigue and hunger was starting to get to him.

Walking into the bar, he saw it was decently filled, and he immediately made his way to the bartender. After ordering, Qrow started talking to the guy, trying to get a feel for the town, and got a surprise of his own. Apparently this town had developed a bit of a guardian angel.

"That's right" the bartender said. "For the past week and a half, Grimm attacks have died down, which has definitely improved morale. The last caravan made it through without any trouble. And just a half hour ago, somebody dumped more than a dozen weapons and ammo in front of town hall. Guards claimed that they didn't see anybody." He snorted, "Most likely the lot of them were asleep. Despite that, those guns and ammo will be a great help for our village."

"Huh, yeah, I imagine they would" Qrow said thoughtfully. Well, sounds like the vigilante archers do live in town. Didn't expect to find that out this quickly though...

"Anyways" the bartender said, "My shift is just about done. ROBIN! Get in here and take over." "Yes sir!"

The bartender looked at Qrow and gave him a nod. "Please enjoy your time in our village." and walked out, just as a tall, lanky young faunus with orange hair and fox ears walked in and started working the bar.

Robin looked at the strange Hunter at the bar after he helped out a couple customers. There was something about him that seemed familiar... He thinks he felt it in the forest while he was spying on the bandits. But that couldn't be it, he had ran as fast as he could to get back into town after seeing the bandit's new base. He knew Hunters were fast, but he was still pretty sure that as an Archer, who happened to be a trained druid, he was faster in the forest.

He shook his head. Those were questions he could think about later. He had other things to think about.

Like what to do about those bandits.

He hadn't killed any of them, because despite the fact that they were bandits, they weren't nearly as bad as they could be. They avoided killing, and generally just specialized in "smash and grab" tactics. It could be MUCH worse. As it was, the bandits were actually attracting some of the Grimm presence, which kept some of it off of the town. He really just attacked them today because he wanted to see how much of a challenge they put up. He wasn't even planning on using any of his poisons or drugs until that one man spoke up.

"Get down here and fight like a man you coward!"

Hmph. Ironic, hearing that from a bandit. Honor certainly didn't seem to help anybody stay alive, and Pride certainly wasn't going to step up and assist, so what good were they to him? He specialized in traps and poisons. Why would anybody think that he would play fair when that was his specialty? He gave a self-mocking small laugh.

Even if he drugged some of them, he didn't want to kill them. No, if they died, then it might create a power vacuum in the area, and another bandit group might try to take up residence that had worse policies. Well, I guess that settles that then. It's a far better idea to let them do their own thing and stop them every one in a while. Who knows? His efforts might aggravate them enough to convince them to turn to an honest lifestyle... He chuckled. Not that he believed that, but it was certainly possible. If they get more violent in the future, he'd think about the problem again.

He sighed. He was still so very confused as to what was going on, but at least he could continue to help people. Just in a different location than when he was alive. Hopefully he'll have better results than when he was alive as well...He grimaced at that thought.

All he really ever wanted was to live a quiet life. Unfortunately, he couldn't just sit back when others were suffering. So he took up the bow, and became the nameless sniper, to give others the quiet life he couldn't have. Eventually, the villagers had given him the name of a famous outlaw that also used a bow, and the name stuck, even to the point of him being summoned as the incarnation of that famous outlaw.

He didn't mind too much. He would continue to do what he could to help this village thrive. At least this time the villagers didn't dislike him, and they probably wouldn't turn against him either, since the main threats in this area are the Grimm and bandits.

Well, he drooped. They mostly didn't dislike him, anyways.

Now he was depressed again. He didn't mind being summoned as a Hero in this strange land, and he didn't mind picking up the bow to help the people again. He welcomed it! Not having any information was annoying, but something he could work around. However, in all of this, he had one very important question.

Robin Hood, the chivalrous thief, trained druid, and mysterious Green Man of the Forest, looked at the mirror on the wall. "Why was I summoned as a fox faunus?!"

Qrow looked over at the faunus bartender again. Poor kid seemed to be going through some rough mood swings from the look of it. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. It wasn't any of his business. He had more important things to do. Like get his next drink. "Bartender!"

Authors Notes:

For those who are curious why I made Robin Hood a fox faunus, I blame Disney. :)

For those who are interested in guessing who is going to be next:
Not an evil character (As I said, evil characters will be posted after the mentor spirits are all out.)
The next Heroic Spirit will meet and offer to train Jaune Arc

That's all for now. I hope you all enjoy the chapter!