City of Discord

Prologue-

When the Sun darkened... that's when it all began.
The Toxic Wars had been raging on for years, biological warfare becoming more and more potent every passing day. Millions of innocents dying horrendous deaths for unseen government hands. The Colonies slowly became stronger and stronger, their influence slowly becoming law, their law slowly becoming murder. That, is when it all started.
-Journal Entry #32014

Somewhere, very, very far away, in a time not far from the end of time, there is a City. The Last City... On a cold, lonely world no longer possessing a sun. Somewhere in this cold city there is a Room. A very large Room. Cylindrical in shape, its roof and floor lost in the vast abyss that extends in both vertical directions. At the center on a steel platform is the Chair which Ascarn sits in and is bound to.
"Awaken." a cold voice commands.
A horrible head lifts, a canine-like face split by viper-grin; unblinking eyes gazed into the blackness, defiant.
"Flesh." Ascarn whispers. "The will of the soul is shaped by the will of the Flesh; and in pain, in agony, harbors the Living Truth. If thine eyes gaze upon It, then let it be thine hand that drives out sight; if it whispers in thine heart, then let thy hand snuff out life. For in Pain lies the Real Truth!"
Several voices, melting and fading together as one speak. Where one voice ends, another begins. "Defiant..." "...Strong..." "Think yourself fortunate, Child..." "Your friends, they held not the promise..." "Which you possess..." "Cast aside.." "Useless..." "Recycled..." "But you are chosen..." "To answer a higher calling..."
"False Darkness," Ascarn hisses, thunderous whispers rattling in his skull. "The Prophet of Pain cast ye down. There is no higher mistress than Pain; behold!" He twitches his hand, his long, crooked, useless fingers curling, his lips forming the heated prayers, the numb incantations as he faced an Enemy greater than He.
"I have no Fear." Crack. The first finger breaks easily, the bones long brittle from malnutrition; but he does not cry out, his eyes staring into the darkness. "I do not Fear." Another. Almost as if he wished to taunt his captors, with the gunshot snaps of bones. "Pain cleanses your Thought, no deception. Agony shows me the True Way!"
The third one elicted a strangled scream, which is quickly suppressed; his eyes almost seemed to glow. "I see You now!" he shrieks, victorious. "I see, and I have seen! The Prophet hath shown me the way!"
"So you have heard Her voice..." Whispers the multitude of voices. "Hers is a song like no other... Tell us, Child. Do you desire to hear it again?" A long, mechanical appendage unfolds from the darkness, it's joints smoothly buzzing and wheezing as it lowers in front of Ascarn. Several clicking noises are audible as various sharp and unpleasant tools unfold from it. Along the walls of the cylinder, giant monitors slowly flicker to life, showing the static-distorted, black and white scenes from Ascarn's life, silently playing as the voices continue, "We can bring you closer... Closer to Her song... What you have heard thus far is but a mere echo... Of an echo... An echo."
For the first time uncertainty flickers across the man's face; a longing desire welling in his soul, the poisoned drug setting every nerve aflame. Oh, it was not the tools, nor his life flickering now on the smooth walls; it was that offer, that promise, that caused him to waver. Snap. And now, clarity - clarity that only the pain could bring. "False Ones! You will... you cannot trick me. I am Ascarn Jakobson! I follow the teachings of the Prophet, not the siren song of your lies!" And yet, he was running out of fingers; Almost all of one hand already gone, swollen into uselessness.
"Your false Prophet of Pain.. Has no power here.." the voices hiss, an irritated tone emerging from their midst. Ascarn feels a sensation of nothingness begin to wash through his body, causing his pain to fade away and be replaced by numbness. No doubt the tubes stuck into his sides and the fluid pumping from them have something to do with that. The memories from Ascarn's past continue silently playing on the flickering cathode ray monitors. Everything. The happy, the tragic, the mundane, and the secret, as if his entire life had been taped and recorded and archived in some vast library deep beneath the City. "The song of Pain cannot be heard everywhere..." "Yet Her song..." "Shall never depart from you..." "Nor will you depart from it..." "Do you not wish to behold such wonder?" The voices say, louder now, more distinct.
A briefest flash of blessed pain hit Ascarn as tubes descended - but then, nothing more. Even the constant dull pains of odd-set bones and torn ligaments faded. There was nothing, now, to prevent it; it curled around his heart, dug it's claws into his very soul. "Desire...?" His eyes rolled back in his head, jaws parting as his mutilated tongue struggled limply forth; his very bones thrumming with addiction.
"You are weary..." "You have endured much sorrow..." "So much sorrow.." "But here there is only comfort.." "And acceptance..." "For Discord denies its love and pain to none." The harsh, mechanical voices continue, their constant vocal relay almost hypnotic. Machinery continues processing and humming around Ascarn as a steel grated bridge extends to the platform he's on, carrying five white-coated men, their faces covered by triple-lensed goggles and magnifying glass headgear, concealing their identities, if they still even have identities. The voices of the unseen men speak on "You possess the gift of Hearing..." "Contemplate upon Her song..." "And rest, Child..." "Rest..."
Whether or not Ascarn agreed to all this, the white-coats go about their silent business around him, inspecting various tools of their trade, tuning up the mechanical arms to aid them in this operation, and inspecting him like a specimen as one of the mechanical arms places something over his face, causing him to lose all sight. Like a mask, yet with many moving parts, like many buzzing metal, stinging insects.
Each beat of his heart brings with it those horrible images of his life; futile, he tried the Pain Chant - and yet, with no agony, no clarity, the words ring hollow and empty, succumbing to siren, soothing lie. For the first time in years, the darkness descended; the sleep, and the madness it brought him, finally winning. His mangled hand jerked; if only it were not bound to the chair, he would be reaching for some sight known only to him, "Dark... so dark," he murmurs, hardly even a whisper.

"Where you are going..." "...You will not need eyes to see." the voices say.

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Hey guys, thanks for reading, first vaguely sci-fi story I've ever really tried and I'm enjoying it so far so you can hope for some more chapters soon perhaps Tell me what you think, and point out any grammatical errors pl0x! (2am over here so I probably made a few). I know its very cryptic atm, but that's the point of prologues, all will be explained in time

Wow, Azk, that was great! I really liked that! As far as grammatical errors go, I found none. Great story, keep it up! I am supremely intrigued.

Woot! I am hooked man! Write more! That's an awesome start man! So, is it based off of anything, or is it your own original idea?

that sounds really cool, cant wait to read more!

It's an original idea atm Arata, can't really figure out where it's gonna go, but it sounded cool in my head I'll write more soon.

it was a little confusing, took me a while to work out if ascarn was the guy in the chair or the scientist i LOVE the paint he thing, so cool!

Mm, I'm writing the next chapter atm. Trying to make it so that the journal things give a bit of history to the story, like the setting etc. That way I won't have to tell it during the story...

ok cool, cant wait.

Well I would've posted it last night but my computer crashed so I have to write it ALL again. GG.

dang, keep at it though azk

Hm, I will, just a bit uninspired atm.

start with an ending, an how to get there? start with a problem and how it is created/solved? Put me in! i dunno lol.