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Captains Domon

The Striking Seven

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I have always loved the movie The Magnificent Seven. The original Seven Samurai is a triumph in movie history, the old one is a classic, and the remake was amazing. I have created a version of this, set in the time when Wax was a lawman. It doesn't follow the plot of Seven Samurai, it just has seven lawmen involved, though two of them are women. I'm almost ready to post the first part. It should be out Monday or Tuesday. Note: I am still working on Threnody short story, working title The Bard at River's End.


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Sorry. I've been busy. Here is the "prologue" or "Part 1" if you want.

The Striking Seven


The stagecoach express was late. The horses had been pushed hard, almost to the point where they were spent. But Gareth couldn’t risk stopping. He was carrying a rich passenger, and had been promised an award if they reached Covingtar on time. Stewart, his partner, sat next to him, clutching a shotgun. The landscape ahead was empty and devoid of life. The road twisted into a canyon, shrouded in shadows.

Gareth guided the horses down the curving road. The canyon seemed to close in on them as they drove farther in. Stewart cast a glance behind them and saw three masked riders in pursuit. His eyes widened.

“Gareth,” he cried, aiming the shotgun. “We have company!” Gareth flicked the reins, crying out to press the horses on. The end of the canyon came into view, inviting and close. As the coach drew closer, three more horses obstructed the exit. Gareth immediately pulled on the reins. The equines neighed in protest, but stopped. They were trapped.

“Good man,” said one man, who appeared to be the leader. “Tell your passenger to step out please. Oh, and I would drop that gun, sonny.” he said, addressing Stewart. Trembling, Stewart obeyed, while Gareth nervously knocked on the door of the stage. The passenger stuck his head out, annoyed.

“What is it, driver?” he snapped. “I thought I-” His harangue was abruptly cut off as a bandit placed a gun on his temple. He went pale, blood draining out of his face.

“Would you be so kind as to exit the coach, my lord?” asked the leader. Hands raised high, the man did so, a look of terror on his face. Guns trained on him. One bandit peeked inside the coach, and saw another man asleep in the corner.

“Hey, you!” yelled the bandit. “Get up, you-” The man’s eyes suddenly snapped open. With lightning reflexes, he drew out a pistol, and shot the bandit in the right arm and the left leg. The leader then made a terrible mistake. He looked up, distracted by the gunshots. In that moment, the lord pulled out a gun, firing three shots, hitting the leader and his two accomplices. The bandits’ horses panicked and threw off their riders.

All the leader felt was pain and shock. He lay on the ground, holding his left shoulder. Through his watering vision, he saw a blur that appeared to be a young boy standing over another one of his men. An iron grip latched onto his collar, lifting him up. He was face to face with an unfamiliar man, presumably the one in the coach.

“Who are you?” he choked out. The man grinned.

“Waxillium Ladrian, lawman for hire, at your service.” he replied.


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Part Two. Enjoy.

The town of Weathering was quiet today. Wax leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs as he did. The unofficial “Constable House” that he had bought with the reward money for capturing the small bandit gang was surprisingly comfortable. In fact, Wayne had made a homemade sign that said, “Law Place” on the front door, though it had many spelling errors. He yawned, looking out the window. Clouds were sparse, and the townspeople were going about their day-to-day business.

Arbitan entered, wearing the same suit he had when impersonating the lord. He sat across from Wax, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. Wax gave him a sideways look.

“You seem attached to that suit.” he remarked. Arbitan gulped down some whiskey, and admired the suit, fingering its lapel.

“It’s a nice suit,” he replied. “I haven’t worn anything so nice since I left Elendel.” Wax smiled.

“You can keep it,” he said. “I won’t be needin’ it.” Arbitan grinned, raising his glass in thanks. They sat there, enjoying the quiet, when the door burst open. Wayne entered, holding a half-empty whiskey bottle, swaying slightly.

“’Ello, Wax!” Wayne greeted, speech slurring. “Where’ve you been all night?” Wax regarded Wayne, raising an eyebrow.

“I’d ask you the same, Wayne,” he said. “You’ve been gone for nearly two rustin’ days.” Arbitan snorted, taking another swig of whiskey.

“That isn’t even surprising.” he put in. “And you’re puttin’ it lightly, Wax. Where the hell have you been, Wayne?” Wayne smiled, looking dazed.

“Been around,” he warbled. “The horse out back has been jutrsdwnzlxcnoa…….” He promptly fainted, snoring loudly. Wax and Arbitan stared at the young man for a little, before facing each other again.

“May I have some of that?” asked Wax, pointing at the whiskey. Arbitan slid the bottle towards him.

“Help yourself.”


Unlike Weathering, True Madil was a much harsher place. Such could be confirmed as Cara ran from her hunter. She retreated down an alley.

“Where are you, you little rusting female?” he yelled. “I ain’t done with you yet!” He fired a shot into the shadows. From her hiding place, Cara held back a squeal of fright. She crouched even farther. There was no sound of the man. Cautiously, she began to rise. In an instant, the man seized her by the hair, throwing her to the ground. She gave a loud shriek. He pressed his pistol against her head.

“Move and you’re dead.” he whispered. “I promise your body will bleed here.”

“The only body bleeding,” a voice said, echoing. “will be yours, outlaw.” The man turned to see Death. But he knew he couldn’t stop now. It was too late for that. He began to sweat. Shaking, he aimed the pistol at Death.

“Stay back, lawman!” he screamed. “I’ll fire!”

“Then do it.” came the reply. Death began to move forward, slowly but surely. His footsteps resonated through the alley. The desperate thief pulled the trigger. The bullet took Death in the right knee. Death stumbled, then rose, walking as calm as ever. The outlaw emptied the cylinder, firing four shots. Two entered Death’s chest, one ricocheted off the alley wall, and one hit him in the head.

Horrified, the man watched as Death stood up, forehead resealing, blood flow stopping. It became silent, like a tomb. Death wiped his forehead, and stared at the smeared blood. He then glared at the man, tinted glasses glinting.

“Is that the best you can do?” he wondered aloud. Suddenly striking out, he punched the thief, breaking his nose. Then, pulling out his shotgun, Death cocked it and shot him point blank in the chest. The outlaw seemed to look down at his bleeding torso, then fell dead. Cara, who had been cowering behind some crates, slowly peeked out.

Miles Hundredlives studied the body as he lit a cigar. He puffed a few times and blew a smoke ring.

“You can come out,” he told Cara. “You’re safe. But I would ask you to stay in your house during the night.” Cara stepped toward him, avoiding the pool of blood. Knowing the kind of temperament True Madil’s lawman had, she held out her hand.

“Thank you, Mister Hundredlives.” she said. He accepted the hand, shaking it.

“It’s no trouble,” Miles replied. “It’s just business.”


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Part Three. It's about to get real.

There was a storm brewing over Callingfale. Most people would have scowled, but Ranette liked the grayness. It calmed her nerves. She wasn’t officially the lawkeeper of the town, but since Bronson had disappeared, the people had come to her when they needed help. She didn’t like to be bothered, but fighting off the thieves who came through would help people stay away.

Ranette pulled her hair back into a ponytail and took out her rifle. She exited her house and sat herself on the front porch. Someone would come sooner or later. She sighed, leaned back, and placed her gun to the side. Her mouth was dry. She needed whiskey.

A few minutes of tranquility passed. The smell of rain and moisture was growing stronger. At the moment when Ranette decided to go back in, Yul the baker came running around the corner. He stopped at the edge of her porch. Ranette lit a cigarette.

“What is it, baker?” she asked.

“Bandits,” gasped Yul. “Must be a hundred of ‘em.” Ranette frowned and stood, grabbing her firearm.

“How many?” she asked, sounding incredulous. The baker caught his breath and gulped down air.

“I couldn’t count,” he puffed. “They were-” Several shots fired in the distance. Ranette, now becoming concerned, jumped off her porch and began to run. Yul exhaled in exasperation, but followed close behind. Ranette rounded the corner and found a very large group of bandits facing her.

Guns were aimed at her in all directions. Ranette and Yul slowly raised their hands up. An older man, face weathered from years in the Roughs, deep blue eyes piercing, approached them.

“Are you the lawkeeper for Callingfale?” he asked, voice a rich baritone. Ranette nodded.

“For the time being.” The older man smiled amiably.

“Not anymore,” he declared. “My name is Coburn and I am the leader of the Surefires. And we are now in charge of the township of Callingfale. No leaving, and no insubordination from the people.” Ranette glared at Coburn, beginning to burn iron. She focused on the men’s guns and Pulled. Firearms were wrenched out of bandits’ hands, and shouts of surprise and alarm rose. Coburn, however, calmly raised his pistol and shot Yul in the head.

Everything went silent. Nobody moved. Yul’s body lay in the dust. Coburn slowly put the gun to Ranette’s chin.

“I will pull this trigger,” he whispered. “I would rather keep you as collateral, but if you insist on being an agent of Ruin, then continue, by all means.” Ranette tried to Pull at the gun, but nothing responded. It was aluminum. Damnation. She turned off her Allomantic reserve. Coburn nodded in satisfaction.

“Good,” he said. “I’m glad to see that you can be reasonable.” Ranette was startled. Was he a Seeker? Somehow, that just made the man seem worse. He holstered his gun and turned to his men.

“Gather the people in the center of the town,” Coburn bellowed. “I need to explain our rules.”


The people of Callingfale were mostly compliant. Those who weren’t were shot. They soon were gathered into the town square, afraid of what might come. Coburn stood on a crate, facing them. He began his address.

“Good afternoon, people of Callingfale,” he said. “I am Coburn, the leader of the Surefires. We have come to liberate you from your demons. We will keep you safe. But, of course, we have some regulations that must be followed. For no civilization is complete without order.”

“Order?!” exclaimed a man near the front. “This isn’t order, this is tyranny!” Coburn regarded the young man with a bemused look.

“What’s your name, son?” he asked.

“Horst,” snapped the man. “And I’m not bowing down to a man like you.” Coburn nodded sagely.

“That sounds fair,” he mused. “Step over here, son.” He gestured to his right. The belligerent Horst stepped up defiantly, gazing up at him. Coburn drew out his gun and shot him twice. A scream rang out, and several people began to yell. A young woman ran to the corpse and cradled it in her hands, tears streaming down her face. A bandit reached out to pull her away, but Coburn raised a hand.

“Rebels will not be tolerated,” he cried out. “Curfew is at sundown. Anyone caught past the deadline will be shot. I will also tolerate no use of Allomancy and the like. Is that clear?” The townspeople continued to shout and move about in confusion. Coburn sighed and shot the woman holding Horst. The crowd went silent.

“Is that clear?” Coburn repeated. “I am not a patient man.” The crowd murmured assent. Ranette stared at the bodies lying in the dirt. She knew that she needed to do something, and that she needed help to do so.

She just needed a way to escape first.

Edited by Captains Domon

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Part Four. Sorry it took so long.

Arbitan went for a stroll. He always did, when the weather held up. The sun shined in the sky and a small breeze blew. He greeted people as they passed and stopped once to scold a boy for pickpocketing. I really like this place, he thought. It’ll be a sad day when I leave. He had been planning his departure for awhile. Wax was well known and respected in Weathering enough that he could slip out and return to Elendel.

Arbitan bit his lip, thinking about his options. Yes, Wax would cope without him. And Wayne would become useful at some point. He closed his eyes and inhaled some fresh air. Then he continued his way. He decided to visit Drof’s saloon, to pick up another bottle of whiskey. He entered and sat at the bar. Soon, Drof came over, cleaning a glass.

“Good to see ya, Arbitan,” greeted the bartender. “Whaddaya need?”

“Just a bottle of whiskey,” Arbitan requested. “Then I’ll be on my way.” Drof pulled him in closer for a moment.

“There’s been a man claiming he is recruitin’ for a band of thieves,” he whispered. “His name is Barl, and he says he’s a member of the Surefires.” Arbitan pulled back, a little disbelieving. The Surefires were notorious for their brutality.

“The rustin’ Surefires!” said Drof. “What if they come ‘ere, Arbitan?” Arbitan put a finger to his lips.

“When does he usually come in?” Drof shrugged.

“Around eight o’clock,” he replied. “He’ll be right ‘ere, talkin’about them Surefires.” Arbitan leaned back, genuinely concerned. If the Surefires were truly coming to Weathering, they would be in deep waters for sure. He wondered what they wanted. Then, he got up and left, strolling out. He made his way down the street, then heard a cry.

“Stop, thief!” Arbtan whirled to see a grungy looking man running out of the general store. Arbitan went into pursuit, pulling out his pistol. The thief turned right, retreating down an alley. Turning to continue following, Arbitan began to burn electrum.

Being an Oracle had its ups and downs, but Arbitan had learned to trust what he saw in the brief visions. He saw the thief trapped in a dead end, pulling out a knife. Grinning, he rushed down the alley, turning left. There, he found the thief, nervously backing up.

“Stay back, lawman!” he yelled. “I’m a free man.” Arbitan chuckled, shaking his head.

“You were, until you decided to steal.” The thief drew a knife.

“STAY BACK!” he screamed. Arbitan took a step closer, then another. The thief lashed out, slicing Arbitan’s arm. He froze, and so did Arbitan. Blood welled up from the wound. The thief, scared, backed away warily. Fury replaced calm in Arbitan’s mind as he shot the thief in the right arm, then the left foot. The thief howled in pain.

“QUIET!” barked Arbitan. “Come with me. You’re gonna have a nice visit to the jail.”


“OW!” he cried, some minutes later. “Damnation, Wax, that’s hurts like Ruin.” Wax tightened the bandage.

“It would hurt less if didn’t keep movin’, Arbitan.” he replied. Then, Arbitan remembered what he had learned from the saloon. He grabbed Wax’s wrist.

“Wax,” he said. “I have some bad news.” Wax stopped, cocking his head.

“Did Wayne get caught borrowin’ apples again?” Arbitan shook his head and chuckled.

“No, no, it’s about those bandits they call the Surefires.” A worried expression appeared on Wax’s face. He sat down.

“They comin’ here?” he asked incredulously. Arbitan rejected this.

“No,” he replied. “Drof told me that a man named Barl is recruitin’ for ‘em.” Wax stood up abruptly and began to pace the room.

“How come we didn’t know about this sooner?” he wondered. Arbitan shrugged, which made pain throb through his right arm.

I’m gettin’ slow, he thought. Should’ve seen it comin’. He shook off the guilt he felt and spoke again.

“Let’s go to the saloon tonight,” he suggested. “We’ll have Wayne pretend he’s interested in joining.” Wax nodded thoughtfully.

“Right,” he said. “Then we can take this Barl into custody, and question him.” Arbitan slapped his knee.

“Let’s do it.”

Edited by Captains Domon

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That evening, the saloon was crowded. People chattered and laughed. Drof had a long night ahead of him. Arbitan and Wayne sat at a table near the far wall. Wax approached the bar. Drof slid over.

“Where’s this Barl?” asked Wax. The husky bartender nodded towards a gangly man, with a wispy goatee.

“ ‘E’s over there,” he whispered. “Careful, Wax. ‘E’s a little quick to anger.” Wax grinned widely.

“Good thing I’m a patient man,” he chuckled. “Gimme a shot real quick.” He set down a clip, and Drof obliged him with a shot of whiskey. Wax poured a small amount of steel in the drink, then downed it. He nodded at Wayne and pointed at Barl. Wayne wiped his mouth, and began to stumble over. He weaved his way through the crowd and nearly collapsed in front of Barl.

“ ‘Ello there!” he exclaimed. “I was hearing the other day that you were...uhh, askin’ for men to go on a brilliant crusade!” Barl smiled amiably, and patted Wayne’s shoulder. He began to steer Wayne towards an adjoining room.

“Of course, friend,” Barl said. “Come this way and we’ll discuss business.” Wayne looked over his shoulder as they walked away and mouthed, This guy smells like a four day old apple!

So do you, Wax mouthed back. Focus on Barl. Wayne winked slyly, and began to chat with Barl. When they had entered the next room, Wax strided over to Arbitan.

“What do you think?” asked Wax. Arbitan shook his head.

“There’s somethin’ wrong with this whole thing, Wax,” he muttered. “I think it’s a setup.” Wax’s eyes immediately searched the room, looking for a possible suspect.

“Do you see anything?” Arbitan closed his eyes and burned electrum. He breathed slowly, then opened his eyes. Instinctively, he reached for his gun.

“There is someone else,” he said. “Other than Barl, I mean.” His eyes roved intently for the culprit.

“I don’t see ‘em here...I dunno, Wax, should we spring it?” Wax shrugged and pulled out a coin, tossing it hand to hand.

“Nothin’ better to do tonight.”


Wayne followed Barl down a thin hallway, adopting a posture that suggested he had more than his share already. He studied this strange man that Arbitan had said was a bandit. Well, if he was, he wasn’t selling it very well. What kind of rusting bandit combed his facial hair? Very unnatural. Wayne shuddered. Barl opened a side door and gestured Wayne to enter. Inside were two other men.

“Hello there,” spoke one. “I suppose you’re interested in our business, is that right?” The man had a nice accent. Sounded like he was from the area of Far Dorest. Wayne nodded vigorously.

“I am, I am,” he said eagerly. “May I ask what kind of racket you’re organizin’ ‘ere?” The man smiled nonchalantly and laid a hand on Wayne’s shoulder. He nodded to Barl and the other man, and they began to close the curtains.

“My name is Brynner.,” the man said. “My partners and I are recruiting able men for my superior, a leader of a band that you perhaps might have heard of. The Surefires.” Wayne nodded in confirmation and Brynner continued. “The business we are conducting as of now is highly profitable for all involved.”

“Well, that’s nice to hear,” Wayne remarked. “What kind of business is that?”

“Hold up there, son,” Brynner chuckled. “We first need to know if you’re qualified. How old are you?”

“Nearly eighteen.” At this, Brynner laughed loudly. Barl and the other man joined as well. Wayne joined too. A good laugh was nice to have. Brynner shook, then contained himself.

“You look younger than that, but I could believe it,” he said. “You an Allomancer?” This time, Wayne laughed. He saw a nice pen on a small desk next to Barl and picked it up, twirling it in his fingers.

“Twinborn.” The one word made Brynner freeze. Barl’s thin mustache twitched. The other man peeked through the curtains, watching the outside.

“Now that’s something.” Brynner whistled. Wayne winked at him.


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On 10/23/2018 at 6:22 PM, Ark1002 said:

This is cool!

Thanks! I'm very busy with school and other stories and what not, but I post here when I can.


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