(OOC Kat, I already have, those are the people whom liked it
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Yuri's voice began low and melow, his heart filled once again with the contentness of sharing a tale with newfound friends.
"Sadrith’s feet moved with more grace than any other man could master. His body swayed with the rhythmical beat of the ballroom music. He danced with a certain skill, a precise love for the action in which he so indulged himself in. Even as Sadrith maneuvered across the ballroom floor, his personal assassin’s dagger jabbed at his ankle. The two curved blades, exposed to his bare skin for fear of transporting such an obvious sheath, were almost cutting open his ankles. But he could resist the temptation to remove it. The dancer once again plunged himself into the mental trance of the dance. Sadrith’s every movement a result of a note on a flute, or a lute.
Nhamett had said Sadrith couldn’t do it. He proclaimed Sadrith, the most famed, skilled assassin in Ishantu, was losing his touch. Sadrith denied the very thought of this. He should have slit that fool of a politician’s throat the moment he spoke those challenging words, but then who would he have to laugh at whence he hands to Nhamett Iracus’, the King of the Eastern Conclave, head on a silver platter? No, this was too much fun. Sadrith was not insane. Strange, maybe, but any who claim he cannot perform his most practiced duties to the upmost quality shall soon have such a veil of lies lifted from their troubled eyes.
Sadrith had been hired as a trained assassin for almost forty years. His first assignment was from a local noble; whom thought that Sadrith’s brother was becoming too popular amongst the people, thus ordered Sadrith to have his brother killed. Since Sadrith’s two-pronged dagger severed his brother’s worthless spine he had cut himself off of all personal, emotional contacts with the world around him. Slowly he became a killing mechanism focused on three things; money, music, and dancing.
The assassin’s grin widened as he noticed royal couples begin to stop, watch, and applaud Sadrith’s talent. Even the band began to play more exotic and personalized music for his own graceful style. Memories, buried for years in the mind of a psychotic murderer, revealed themselves in his mind’s eye. Sadrith; dancing in the royal court of Ishantu, under the giant platinum statue of the nation’s first king. His random strolls through local countryside, flowing the sound of his own instrument.
The music came to a close, and Sadrith neared the King and his bride. Now was his chance, here he would collect his bounty, and reap the benefits of his talents. At first the King smiled at him, applauding Sadrith’s gracious performances. He tried to halt in order to reveal his blade. All they would see would be a flash, a blur, and the blood of Iracus polluting the Marble floor. But Sadrith could not. He put all of his strength into powering his limbs to eliminate Iracus, but they would not respond. The assassin could feel his control slipping through the net of his consciousness while he kept swaying to the beat of a different drummer.
Iracus leaned forward and looked his assailant in the eye, and gasped. He knew Sadrith, he had to. The king screamed something, but Sadrith could hear nothing. All words were drowned out by the hypnotic trance of beautiful music only his ears could receive. Sadrith could not resist, the beat was too intoxicating, it ripped the power of Sadrith’s mind over his own flesh and blood from his weak mortal grasp.
Royal guards, donned in black Mithril armor, wielding deadly bastard swords, surrounded the doomed assassin. Even as five blades slew Sadrith, he began his final dance. He could feel his participant, broken fragments of a lost, insane mind, beckon him to dance, and stepped to the eternal waltz of his final partner; death."
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