Been reading some Witcher books (The Last Wish) and some ideas popped onto me. What would a Witcher be in the universe of RWBY? The obvious answer would be huntsmen, but at the same time is not correct. A Witcher's style of combat is more about exploiting weaknesses of the monsters you face rather than bringing the most bizarre powerful weapon. So this fic will focus on what a Witcher would be (code of morals, combat style, and the like) in this universe.

The threat of Salem, Cinder and their lackeys are gone. And the war took a toll on the land, scorched forests, destroyed cities and loss of human life. Even with the big threat gone, Grimm presence is still rampart. Most of the abandoned towns are inhabited with Grimm. Humanity is still recovering from the damage the war caused. And with how a lot of hunters lost their lives, these Grimm are not be going to be cleared for a long time.

And so 2 years have passed, the academies still haven't brought out fully trained hunters because of halted operations during the war. The help of hunters are sought out far and wide with their small numbers.

Walking alongside the wet dirt road leading to a dilapidated village, a man wearing a brown cloak that shields him from the heavy rain. Entering the village was disheartening, nobody in the streets to greet you, all doors are closed, you only feel eyes watching you from the shadows and the windows of the buildings…hiding from something.

The man stopped in front of an establishment with the sign 'Bar', at least that's what you can make out from the broken sign. He knocked on the door couple of times, glanced around while waiting for someone to let him in. Finally, the peephole of the door slid open, revealing a moderately lit bar behind a person peeping through the door.

"Who is it?", the door guard said. He noticed the hooded mans glowing eyes underneath the darkness of that hood. They weren't eyes of a normal person, seeing as they are more of a cat's and the moonlight glistening behind him emphasized it.

"Hunter, I'm here for work", a deep scraggly voice spoke from the hood.

With this introduction, the door closed the peephole and hastily opens the door.

"Come in quickly please", the door guard gestures the hooded man to come in.

As hooded man steps in, water drops on the wooden flooring from his wet cloak.

"I'll go get the mayor sir. Kindly wait on the bar counter", the door guard bows and proceeds to climb up the stairs on the left of the entrance.

Looking around, the hooded man noticed the people who're populating the bar. None of them look respectable, tattered clothes, gambling with cards and messy tables filled with remains of eaten food. Bandits, brigands, thieves, ones who extort people of Lien, scum, that's what all of them look like.

All eyes are focused on the hooded man as he walks calmly toward the bar.

"What will you having lad?", the Bartender asks.

"Something to warm me up…", the hooded man replied.

"We don't have much…Beer or coffee"

"Coffee then…can't have alcohol at work"

While the bartender prepares the coffee, the person in front of him unties his cloak. Removing his cloak reveals his golden messy hair, a scar on his left eye extending from his brow to his cheek, and eyes resembling that of a cat. But what the eyes on that place took interest of is what's on him. Breastplate made of the highest quality materials although riddled with scratches and dents; a thick armguard on his left hand enough to block weapons, punches, and an attack from a Beringel; a shoulder bag probably carrying stuff that's worth a ton of Lien; an ominous looking necklace with the head of a wolf held by a silver lace; a large gun that looks like a handheld .50-cal that fires one bullet at a time complete with engravings holstered on the back of his belt; and of course, the sword strapped onto his back, the hilt that has magnificently engraved, the sheath, although looks like makeshift and doesn't match the quality of the sword, has an opening in the middle section from the hilt to its middle probably for easier unsheathing and sheathing and it revealed the pristine blade of the sword. Their mouths water as they imagine the catch they have in front of them, even if they think the person doesn't look like from rich disposition.

The coffee is now done; he places his cloak beside the drink just as it is being served then sat at the bar stools.

"So lad, how did you end up in a god forsaken place like this?", The bartender asks.

"I'm traveling to The Emerald Forrest. Might as well stop by here and get some few Lien", the blonde replies after taking a sip from his coffee.

"Don't get your hopes up, see the people around you? They eat up most of it"

"Tsk, I don't see why you people keep them", and another sip

"Beats me, I only work here", the Bartender said nonchalantly. "What's your name hunter?"

"Jaune. Jaune Arc", the blonde introduces himself.

"Arc? The infamous-", before the bartender could finish his thoughts, someone behind Jaune interrupted him.

"MR. OH SO-MIGHTY-HUNTER HOW WILL YOU SAVE US FROM GRIMM!", the filthy looking man behind Jaune said.

Jaune slowly turns sideways to give attention of what's behind him. Three men, all armed with rustic weapons. One armed with a improvised pickaxe, made out of pipe and shiv, sheathed on his belt; another one with an axe probably used for wood cutting; and the guy who called him out armed with a rusty shotgun on his back. All of them dressed in old rotting garb.

"And how does that concern you?", Jaune said.

"Pfft…what's with the attitude? You hunters do a piss poor job, can't even defend the villages. The work falls on us, the common man to deal with your incompetence", the thug in the middle said.

The Hunter turned around to continue his drink. "Seeing the state this village is in, you're doing a piss poor job yourself"

"Still better than what you hunters are doing, and what's with that deep raspy voice you tryin' to act cool or something?"

"Blame that to someone who slit my throat with a scythe", Jaune then takes a sip out of his coffee.

The thug in the middle let out a grunt then looked at his associates to indicate them to surround Jaune. The two leaned on the bar counter on both sides of the hunter. "Anyway mister hunter, we are the protectors in this village. And anything that comes in or out goes through us. The likes of you are certainly not welcome so passing this village requires you fee"

Jaune sighs then finishes the rest of his coffee. CLACK he rests the emptied cup on the cup plate and rests both his arms on the counter. "Your kind never change"

"You can pay us Lein, better yet just give us what you have on you. We prefer that, we'll take it anyway even if you don't like it", the thug behind him demands.

"Ohhh I wouldn't do that if I were you", the Bartender said as he takes the cup.

The thug behind Jaune gestured, signaling his associates to hold Jaune. The thug on his right moved first placing his hand on the Hunter's shoulder.

A second passed; suddenly the guy on Jaune's right is now on the floor, wallowing in pain and has his teeth shattered all over the ground. Jaune's left hand is now splattered with blood including his armguard.

Realizing what just happened, the remaining two thugs go for the offensive. The one on Jaune's left side immediately attacked with a punch. Jaune's lightning reflexes caught the punch, stopping it by grabbing his wrist. The hunter then takes hold of the guy's head and slams it hard on the bar counter face first causing blood splatter on the counter from the thug's broken nose.

The last thug manages to connect a punch, but came to a shocking realization. The punch didn't hurt Jaune, no it actually recoiled and damages his fist and not even bulging the hunter out of his place.

The thug jumped back, wailing in pain as he holds his bruised arm.

"The infamous hero of Vale and the one who ended one of the biggest threats to humankind. The Merciless Grave-walker", the Bartender said speaking out what he knows about the hunter in front of him.

Jaune released the thug that face was crushed, leaving a trail of blood on the bar counter as he slowly flop to the ground.

"I'm surprised you know me", Jaune said to the Bartender.

"Who wouldn't? You're a legend in the eyes of those who live in the battlefield", the Bartender replies.

"Figured as much", Jaune now faced the last thug who attacked him. "Now I have to deal with some very troublesome fellow"

"S-Stay back!", the Thug pulls out the shotgun on his back and points it to the hunter. "Or I-I'll shoot"

Jaune didn't get scared to the threat and instead slowly steps forward.

The nervous thug places his finger on the trigger, nervously aiming at Jaune.

Still unfazed, Jaune took another step. Suddenly there was a flash of light and loud bang.

With Jaune's lighting reflexes, he managed to block the shotgun shot with his right armguard that expanded to a shield. The gunshot sound echoed throughout the establishment, so loud it could be heard three blocks away.

"What the hell are you all doing?", this loud imposing caught everyone's attention at the bar. All their vision turned to the person standing still on the middle of the stairs beside the door. "Didn't I tell you all at night Grimm are very acti-".

Suddenly there was banging on the door, no not banging it's trying to break down the door. Noticing this the door guard hurries to the door and barricades it with a plank. That still wasn't enough to hold back what's outside. The door guard asks the thugs to come help him hold down the door. One comes and with the door guard holds down the near collapsing door. While they hold down the door, the other thugs flipped the tables for cover towards the door, and cocked their guns ready and weapons at hand. Jaune is still beside the bar facing the entrance.

"Can help you help us lad?", the Bartender said under the bar counter loading his double barreled shotgun.

Instead of hiding behind cover, Jaune walks toward the entrance without fear.

"What are we dealing with?", Jaune's question directed at the door guard.

"Uhhh". The bartender takes a peek at the cracks of the near to collapsed door. "Three- No. Four Ursas"

"Ursas huh?", Jaune effortlessly draws out the sword out of his sheath on his back. The blade has scratches but is very durable; the end of its hilt is decorated by a long red ribbon.

Ursa Poison, that would weaken the swing and slowly kill an Ursa by clogging their blood vessels, but I'm low on that, need to conserve for a larger pack. Maybe…Jaune thought as he rummages through the potions on his shoulder bag. Aha! The Blood Letter, stops blood cloth for 12 hours and makes blood flow quicker, I commonly use this on humans but this should suffice for now. All of these ideas were considered in split second in the Hunter's mind.

And so, he pulled his hand out of his shoulder bag bringing out a vial, filled with a dirty bright red liquid filled with chunks of unknown stuff. 5 of this left. He unplugs the cover of the vial with his thumb and spills it over the blade of his sword.

"What should we do? There's too many of them!", The door guard said.

"Keep that door shut we'll wait till they go away", the person standing on the stairs said.

"No, let them in. I'll take care of them", Jaune said with full confidence.

"WHAT?! Are you insane?", the door guard said.

The person standing on the stairs looks at Jaune with concern.

"I've handled far worse", the Hunter reassured.

"Trust him! Just open the door!", the guy on the stairs said.

"Ahhhh fuck it! Ok on 3 we open the door", the door guard nods at the thug helping him barricade the door.

"One"

Jaune adjusted his stance ready to dodge and attack.

"Two"

He then holds up his sword with the blade pointing forward and on his shoulder level with both hands.

"Three!", With that the two people holding up the door runs to hide in cover.

...And stop right there. I sliced it right there cuz theres like 4,000 plus words and 2,000 left. All of that in one chap is way too long. I'm thinking of adding chapters that burrows some story and tone from Berserk.