The Story of Vreene: The Andoc Prime Saga

By Edward A Waples, Jr.

The World of Vreene is an eerie, cold, and yet breathtakingly beautiful place. Its strange forestlike landscape is home to its equally strange docile and primitive inhabitants. With their peaceful civilization under threat of certain extinction by alien cannibalistic monsters that worship an evil snake god, they need heroes! Fast! Have their desperate prayers to the ancient gods finally been heard and answered? And just who or what is the handsome, tall, off-world stranger with erased memories that has suddenly appeared in their midst? Is he their salvation or a harbinger of their certain doom? Prepare yourself for a joy ride of plot twists and turns!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662479274

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The Story of Vreene

The Andoc Prime Saga

Edward A Waples, Jr.

Copyright © 2022 Edward A. Waples, Jr.

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2022

ISBN 978-1-6624-7924-3 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-7927-4 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Preface

Acknowledgments

Illustrations by Amalia B. Waples

The Story of Vreene

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

Andoc Prime (Revelations)

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

Vreene (The Storm)

38

39

40

41

42

Epilogue

Excerpts from Book 2 of the Andoc Saga

About the Author

Preface

Writing The Story of Vreene was a personal challenge that I had made for myself following the debut of my first book, A Poet's Mind and a Musician's Soul, released in 2020 by Page Publishing. I desired to see just how far I could take my lyrical poetry style of writing. I have always considered myself to be a capable storyteller, musician, and song lyricist, so this style of writing comes naturally to me. The difficulty of it lies in finding the words to convey the intended message while maintaining the songlike cadence of the stanzas. It's a little bit like solving an interesting but difficult puzzle or dancing with a partner when you both want to lead.

During several Internet conversations with my readers, I discovered a particularly important, influential, and flattering piece of information… I was understandable. They told me that many book readers shy away from poetry because it is too much work trying to understand the intended meaning of the poem. Very often, poets obscure their poem's meanings by laying them between the lines (as we say in music). Most often, the reader's conclusions are not the ones the poet had in mind at the time of writing. An example of this style would be Robert Frost's famous poem The Road Not Taken. For a true poetry enthusiast and for literature students and teachers, this is golden. In fact, classes have been constructed around some of those obscurities. But the average Joe or Joan might struggle with this concept and lose interest in the genre entirely.

Being a musician, composer, and lyricist, I observed that most people (book readers and nonreaders, poetry lovers and non-poetry lovers) do love good song lyrics that tell a story. This is why the country and western folk and rap music genres flourished with success, relevance, and cultural importance. And it's all poetry! So I figured that if I could write lyrics to songs and a book of short poems in this style, then why not a whole epic novel? Plus, I've always wanted to write a novel in the fantasy genre.

I've read the Iliad and the Odyssey several times and am also a fan of Shakespeare as well. Homer and Shakespeare were epic poets for their day. They inspired me. I admit that I undertook this challenge with some trepidation. However, I soon discovered that I was able to channel some hidden poet/storyteller from beyond.

The Story of Vreene is much more than just a science fiction story. It's a human story. It's about the silent majority rising to say enough! We have had enough of the hatred, the bullies, and the senseless violence! We want a world where peace, love, and fellowship are the norm and not the exception! This is a story of good versus evil, right versus wrong, and love conquering hatred. This is about coming together and succeeding against all odds.

Vreene was written to provide something for everyone, regardless of whether or not you are a veteran or novice to fantasy and epic poetry. It has witches, cannibalistic monsters, feudal kings and queens, time travel, love stories, and a healthy smattering of gods, goddesses, heroes, and heroines from futuristic and primitive alien cultures.

Plus, if you are a person who enjoys listening to the lyrics and stories of your favorite genre of songs, then you will appreciate the lyrical styling and cadence of this book.

The book began to write itself! Ideas would come to me at all hours, and when I sat to type them out, they would morph yet again. Doorways that led me to directions that I'd never imagined before began to miraculously appear! Perhaps this is the normal process that the more experienced writers go through, but it was a new, strange, and wonderful ride for me. Anyway, the end result is now here for you to read.

When my wife Amalia began to draw a few of the scenes that I'd described to her and sculpt some of my main characters (front cover) from clay, the fantasy realms of Vreene and Andoc Prime sprang to life even more for me.

This book does contain several adult themes. In order to make the story true to life and to explain some of the motivations of the characters, some sex and violent scenes were necessary. Thus, this is not a mere children's fairy tale.

I am currently working on the sequel to this story (also something not previously planned). Several verses, plots, and plot twists for The Ascendants Vreene came to me in a dream. The story is demanding to continue, so who am I to argue? I sincerely hope you will enjoy my efforts.

Thank you for reading me!

Edward

Acknowledgments

I would sincerely like to thank everyone that has purchased my first book, A Poet's Mind and a Musician's Soul. It is for you that I have continued to write. I hope that you will find an equal amount of enjoyment from this effort.

I would like to thank all the members of the Centers for Spiritual Living. Many of them are also published authors, musicians, actors, artists, inspirational speakers, and composers. I appreciate your support. Know that you are always in my head and heart. Special thank you to Reverends Angelica Taggart (Eureka, California), Eloise Oliver (Oakland/Berkeley, California), and Margaret Stortz (Oakland, California) for inspiring and guiding me back to spirit.

I am grateful to all my literature teachers for exposing me to so many styles of writing and awakening my need to express creatively through the pen.

To the poetry society at Northtown Coffee House (Will Gibson and the crew of Word Humboldt) in Arcata, California, who allowed me to offer a poem or two every open mic night, I say thank you for your love and not booing me off the stage.

Especially, I want to thank my family, who are always a source of comfort, support, and inspiration to me. They seem to love me no matter what. It is reciprocated!

Thank you, Amalia B. Waples, for marrying me, becoming my muse, and providing the artwork for this book. By your creating the clay sculptures of a few of my main characters (which are displayed on the covers and throughout the story) and your art and photography skills, you've brought the two worlds much more to life and inspired me even more.

And above all, thank you, God, for manifesting my life and teaching me how best to use it!

Page Publishing, I'm not through with you yet! You have been wonderful to work with, and I sincerely hope to continue our relationship. Thank you, Ariel Jordan, for collaborating with me through this process! You are the best!

Illustrations by Amalia B. Waples

Front cover sculptures and art: Main characters off the coast of The Island of Shondra

Title page sculptures and art: Main characters on the battlefield of Vreenor

Illustration: The Vreenarian Forest

Illustration: The Stranger

Illustration: Ellecol's Bar

Sculpture one: Ganca Rumwal

Illustration: The Forest of Vreene and Vreenarian Homes (tree and leaf)

Sculpture two: Gen. Greynul Bock

Sculpture three: Leenu Val

Illustration: Nul Daborg Creeg

Illustration: New Andoc City

Sculpture four: The Mordock Reylon Vreene

Sculpture five: Princess Zenora Nin

Sculpture six: Princess Devreen Nin

Illustration: Althona

Illustration: Tears of an Angel

Illustration: The Royal Palace of Shondra Island

Sculpture seven: King Marvor Lacku

Illustration: The Death Forest of Shondra Island

Illustration: Return to Vreene

Sculpture: The Darve (second in command) Woolnar Keel

Illustration: The Battle for Vreenor

Back Cover Sculptures: Vreenarian Forest at Night

The Story of Vreene

In childlike grace, we lived in our peace,

with nothing around us to fear.

Now fear is our truth, and death haunts our dreams.

Those Relculi monsters are here!

(From Ganca's journal, Var's year of 3751 after the great destruction)

The Vreenarian Forest

1

The Stranger

The Stranger Comes

He stumbled on through the dark outskirts of town,

choosing only the dimly lit streets.

At times, he would hunt through the barrels of trash

in a search to find something to eat.

His bare body shivered in a harsh winter's cold.

It bit from his head to his toes.

He knew he'd soon perish if naked he stayed.

He needed to find himself clothes!

He felt as confused as one pushed out of time.

Great hunger now gnawed at his brain.

Plus, nothing around seemed familiar to him.

His head drummed a symphony of pain.

That nauseating pain and the lack of good food

left a flat empty stomach to heave.

But with nothing put in, more nothing came out.

So he wiped at his face with damp leaves.

This season seemed wrong, as did even the night.

He remembered a hot summer's day.

But on he would trek through this dense freezing cold,

dodging everything found in his way.

A clothesline he saw in a yard as he passed,

with clothes that perhaps he could wear.

He knew they belonged to another poor soul,

but for now, he was too cold to care.

He heard a weird cry near an old, withered tree.

It squealed like some large, injured rat.

But the head was too large and the body too long.

And its nose was bright yellow and flat.

A brief pitying look played across his cold face,

as he snatched it up tight in his hands.

As hunger now flared, he hoped that this thing,

had no family, nor made future plans.

He built a small fire from dried leaves and sticks

to prepare for his ghastly small meal.

He hoped that this wasn't someone's cherished pet,

but his hunger soon buried that feel.

The meat smelled quite rank, and the color seemed wrong.

But it gave renewed strength anyway.

So with large grateful bites, he did offer a prayer

for the animal that now saved his day.

His hunger satisfied, and the bones hidden well,

he started once again on his way.

If anyone saw the cruel thing that he'd done,

he didn't quite know what he'd say.

He was nowhere near home now, wherever that was.

He instinctively knew this was true.

These homes appeared strange, although all very neat.

But designed here like nothing he knew.

The grass appeared brown in this strange gloomy haze,

and the trees looked a yellowish-green.

The houses were round but quite angular in shape

and glowed with an eerie green sheen.

The roofs were attached to some tall twisted plants

that gave off a soft yellow glow.

Though skillfully placed and because of this fact,

they just couldn't line up in a row.

On his left was a vast hazy open expanse.

He believed that it might be a park.

It was hard to see shapes in this thick grayish fog

that hid most in a thick gloomy dark.

The moon shone dull red in a starless dark sky.

And the air, like the fog, felt too thick.

And every slight movement his body now made,

he perceived as abnormally quick.

Like when he had captured that poor ratlike thing,

he'd moved at a lightning-quick speed.

He'd chalked up these moves to his will to survive

and to satisfy hunger's great need.

Now off in the distance, he thought he could hear

soft music that played on the wind.

He stopped with perked ears, trying to listen a bit,

then he heard its soft sound once again.

Hope's renewed, wings willed his numb feet to move,

and he ran with some speed to that sound.

Once again, mild surprise when his feet moved so fast

that he barely could feel the cold ground!

The roads were not paved, just smooth dirt and cold mud,

with patches of thick hardened ice.

He noticed no rocks nor a sign of potholes.

They all were maintained and kept nice.

So onward, he ran still with no thought nor plan

for the dangers he might face or see.

He wanted this nightmare to come to its end

and prayed he might find company.

His soft stolen shoes wet from water and ice,

now augmented the cold that he felt.

The clothes that he'd found were not made of a cloth

but a soft furry animal's pelt.

The vast empty space to the left of this road

was replaced by majestic tall trees.

Some stood straight and tall, while the most intertwined

in thick grass that was up to one's knees.

A sudden cold fear moved like snakes up his spine.

Just where were his past memories?

And what was the name that kept haunting his mind,

as he stumbled on through these tall trees?

A name and blurred face of some person he knew

kept eluding his poor confused mind.

He believed it the answer to how he'd come here

and for what he'd expected to find.

He was vulnerable here with his entire past gone.

And he barely recalled his own face.

His native homeland fell in memory's dark hole.

And nothing was there of this place.

A feeling of fear slowed the pace of his run,

not fatigue nor the sweat of his brow.

He felt renewed strength with each step that he took.

He could still run a marathon now.

A nightmarish dream this most certainly was

and as bad as a nightmare could be.

A voice from inside cautioned stay on alert,

as he moved to embrace destiny.

2

Ellecol's Bar in Vreenor Village

Plight of the Vreenarians

Ellecol's pub claimed the thickest tall tree

that this forestlike village had grown.

As giant trees went, this majestic tall tree

stood high, proud, and nearly alone.

His strong rot gut ploze could quite soon melt away

all the worries of any long day.

You would drink it tonight, and you might feel all right,

but tomorrow, your poor head would pay.

A hardworking crowd assembled here every night

to fill up his quaint little bar.

Their clothes and their hands were both sticky and black

from the mixing of dark sugmusk tar.

By day, they all laid the stoleggle leaf rooves

or worked at the dark sugmusk site.

Stoleggle was tough and was deemed fireproof.

Plus, it glowed in the dark of the night.

The homes that were built under stoleggle leaf rooves

were camouflaged well from sky sight

should any low flying and large predatory thing

attack in the darkness of night.

These people worked hard in the hazy cool days

and drank here most every cold night.

The fear they all felt never gone far away

made it wiser to keep out of sight.

But mostly, they gathered in his small meeting place

to share or to hear tragic news.

Whose family had suffered an attack on that day?

And who did the Relculi choose?

Ellecol was frightened, though this didn't show,

and more than a little in shock

as he filled up the kegs just behind the small bar

with his potent and fresh homemade stock.

This quite muscular, proud man was respected by all.

And he stood just about five-foot-five.

Still at sixty-one years, he could wrestle grown Voogs

and could whip any man in this dive.

His snowy white hair reaching down to his back

was immaculately tied in a bow.

His deep bluish lips and his yellow iris eyes

held a strength everyone came to know.

He looked at Hildo, who now lowered his eyes

in thick and near palpable grief.

What Hildo now said made him rub his sore head.

This was scary beyond all belief.

You mean that they took her from out of her bed?

He spoke so that all there could hear.

Hildo nodded his head as if he'd barely heard.

Ah yep! he said, brushing a tear.

"My daughter was soundly asleep in her bed

with covers tucked up to her chin.

Then my wife and I heard a deep rumbling sound,

and our house shook as if caving in!

The house shook so hard that I feared for our lives.

So I ran up to fetch our small girl.

In Relculi arms, we could hear her loud screams

as they vanished with her in a swirl!

Out of sheer desperation, we hurried outside

in hopes that we might stop that ship.

But within us, we knew that we stood not a chance

as it vanished from sight with a blip!

We both know the truth. We'll not see her again.

And on that, we're both fairly sure.

She was all that we had, my dear sweet wife and me!

We're too old now to have anymore."

From the back of the crowd, a loud voice shouted out,

"I believe that we must kill them all!

No place anywhere in this world now is safe!

These Relculi beasts here must fall!"

Another voice yelled, "That all really sounds great!

But how will this deed now be done?

How many men here will then forfeit their lives?

Are you willing to be the first one?"

Still another cried out, "We must all guard our words!

Those Relculi beasts might hear you!

They might find this place and then slaughter us all!

Or worse, they might eat then a few!"

Ellecol banged a large, thick empty mug,

and every pale head turned his way.

All talking now ceased, and each ear focused in

to hear what their leader would say.

Parule Ellecol's bar was their main meeting place.

And on this, all the villagers agreed.

A success in his business and a revered wiser head

by consensus, not votes, he did lead.

When Ellecol spoke, what he said became law,

though no office in town did he hold.

And even the toughest, most ruthless man there

would do everything he'd been told.

"In past, those foul things would come only by day.

But now they are coming at night.

For the safety of all whom we love and hold dear,

we now must make weapons and fight!"

From the rear caution's voice warned them all yet again,

"You know that we won't stand a chance!

They slaughter with magic from fast-flying ships!

We've only our longbows and lance!"

Another loud voice shouted out from the crowd,

"Pray tell us then please what say you?

They're snatching our children from out of their beds!

Pray tell us what else can we do?"

Ellecol now rubbed at his sore, throbbing head.

"It's clear we've no choice but to fight.

It's how to proceed and what things we will need

that we must decide here tonight!"

Another voice yelled from the crowd yet again,

as everyone there gathered nearer.

Their drinks left behind, they cleared slow, foggy minds

in an effort to hear a bit clearer.

"It's true that great Vreene is our beloved home world

and Vreenor our beloved hometown.

But who will attend to her if our plans fail?

And no one is still left around?

And what of our families then left without men?

Who'd provide for them their daily needs?

These things are important to consider my friends

before we commit to these deeds.

The Relculi slaughter with no second thoughts.

Ellecol frowned deeply and said,

"At the rate that these fiends have been taking us now

in a year, everyone will be dead!"

He looked with concern across the now quiet room.

All cheer here had turned to dark gloom.

His bar now felt less like his favored old friend

and more like a sullen, cold tomb.

We'd sent two brave men to negotiate a truce,

he said, giving all his stern looks.