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Targaryen Musings

by SantaBee

Rated: ASR · Book · Writing.Com · #2317180

Fire and Blood

Targaryen Musings

"Game of Thrones"

-- Notes of SantaBee

House Targaryen from playing Games of Thrones, April 2024.

FORUM

Game of Thrones

(13+)
Closed until further notice...
#456789 by Gaby

FELLOW 2024 DRAGONS:

iKïyå§ama

JACE

Choconuts Roasting

In the manGer(vic), He sleeps

CandyStaiNeCane

The Game involved visiting places like: The House of Black & White, The North Remembers, The Endless Night, Westeros, King's Landing.

FORUM

Game of Thrones

(13+)
Closed until further notice...
#456789 by Gaby

FORUM

The North Remembers

(13+)
Part of GoT
#2126573 by Gaby

FORUM

Endless Night

(13+)
Part of GoT
#2126324 by Gaby

FORUM

Westeros

(13+)
Part of GoT
#2131124 by Gaby

FORUM

House Of Black & White

(13+)
Part of GoT
#2129989 by Gaby

FORUM

King's Landing

(13+)
Part of GoT
#2160538 by Gaby

Challenges included:
Writing - Poems, Flash Fiction, Short stories
Reviewing - 1500 characters not counting WDC ML.
Interactive Chapters
Birthday/Account Anniversaries Activities
Cheer points
and Tedious Citadel Tasks.

All activities are recorded in this Game of Thrones Blog.

House Targaryen came in 2nd Place!
Enjoy the productivity of this blog!

These are the Merit Badges earned from playing Game of Thrones 2024:

Show Recent Comments

April 15, 2024 at 10:33pm

#1068876

House Targaryen

Aka my teammates. Citadel Task #38

I’ll start with our Fearless Team leader Queen of the Andals and Mother of Dragons: iKïyå§ama

If I could give Kiya a dragon to ride it would be Drogon. Why? Because he’s fearless, just like Kiya! I’ve already shared a little about Kiya. I joined WDC in April 2005 and she joined in DEC, so we’re close in ‘age’.

Kiya was a go-getter and self-starter from the start! I was happy to join the Angel Army when she founded it, but I haven’t been as active due to my boys and I can’t thank Kiya enough for her Leadership and Patience (especially with me) when Boy Scouts won over WDC and AA. I’m glad the White Case Memorial has found a home with the Angel Army.

Kiya is a very talented graphic artist and I enjoy reading her writing a lot. She was born and raised in Lagos, Nigeria. She’s a Registered Nurse and has lived in the USA. She’s currently in the UK. I’m honored to have known her all this time on WDC.

Word Count: 161

Hand of the Queen: JACE

Jace’s dragon would be Rhaegal, because Rhaegal is Drogon’s bestest buddy. He joined WDC in May 2008 and I usually see him around on the newsletters. His writing is easy and conversational which I enjoy. He just submitted an Acrostic poetry entry for the Bard’s Hall last month and earned a 2nd place finishing for his poem! Well done. His “Laugh a Folder” in his port intrigues me the most as I enjoy a good laugh as well.

He’s recently retired and is looking forward to traveling. I’d say Jace and I have that in common as I enjoy traveling as well. He was stationed in Germany, and I was station was stationed in Germany. I think he’s going to have a lot of adventures traveling the USA on Rhaegal.

Word Count: 130

Mistress of Coin: Choconuts Roasting

Rachel would ride Rhaegal, too. He’s easy going unlike Drogon, who can be a bit a fussier when he doesn’t get his way. Rachel joined WDC in May 2015 and she’s been a busy little dragon since. Like Jace, I’ve usually seen her around on the newsletters, and it’s been a pleasure getting to know her. She lives in England and writes from the heart, which is the best kind of writing! She also submitted an entry to the Bard’s Hall Contest in March and earned a 3rd Place finish with a well written poem! The item that intrigues me the most in her port is Rach’s Chocolate Emporium because I’m a sucker for a good piece of chocolate! It’s got a lot of offerings. Check it out.
Word Count: 128

Master of the Dragon Pit: In the manGer(vic), He sleeps

Gervic likes a good challenge, so I see him riding Viserion. Why? Viserion is a bit hardheaded, like his namesake and Daenyrs’ brother, Viseyrs, but Gervic is guy with a strong will and a lot of determination and he LOVES dragons. He joined WDC in May 2010. He’s got a colorful port and the one thing I love about it is how pretty it is. He’s got a WDC Dragon Vale activity where you can go and hatch your own dragon. He was born in the Philippines and has a degree in Business Administration. It’s been a hoot playing Game of Thrones because the guy has a ton of energy!

Word Count: 110

Grand Maester of Dragonstone: CandyStaiNeCane

Staine is another one who could conquer Viserion. After all, Viserion went dark when the Night King stuck him with a javelin. I can see Dark Staine riding Dark Viserion.

She’s been on WDC since Aug 2006 and when you pop into her port you see a dark tree with a dark kitty sitting on it with a devious smile. Staine to a tee! Ann is Canadian – living in Eastern Canada with 2 adult boys. I always wanted to go to Montreal or Prince Edward Island. (think Ann of Green Gables) Raising boys can be fun, but hard work at times. I love a good book as much as Ann does! I’m interested in Polls, Crosswords, and Word Searches, in her port because I like those kinda’ items here on WDC. I’ve read Ann’s stuff throughout the years here on WDC and always enjoyed her stories.

Word Count: 147

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April 15, 2024 at 8:19am

#1068808

Budapest Jones gets Shipwrecked

Door 9

Prompt ▼

Word Count: 1987

A cold wind struck my cheeks like a slap in the face, abruptly jolting me awake. Sand grit up against my feet and legs. I raised myself up to a sitting position and just sat there for a second, looking around, trying to gather my bearings.

I was on a beach. It was sandy, but it was also chilly – not bone cold, but I needed more on that a t-shirt and shorts. Overhead dark clouds gathered, moving a little faster than I would like.
It was going to rain – and soon.

I rubbed my cheeks with my hands and took a long, slow visual inspection of the beach. There was a wooden box, probably from the ship I was on. To my right, there was a rocky shore. About 500 meters in back of me were sand dunes, then a hill, I could see coconut trees in the distance. It was 2000. Who knew there were deserted islands these days?

Was it deserted? I didn’t know. And honestly, right now, it was more important to get this box and myself out of the storm that was going to hit. I stood up and a sheering pain shot up my foot. Glancing down, I’d been cut. The blood was dried, but the foot hurt.

I limped over to the rocks and scoured the area. There was a shallow cave which offered some protection. I just hoped it would be enough. Limping back to the box, I dragged it to the cave and settled in.

The box was nailed shut. Using a rock, I pounded on the box until the nails gave, then I pried it open. There was a first aid kit, a blanket, warmer clothes, sandals, map and compass, knives and machetes, rope, a radio, some protein bars a several lighters.

I used the first aid kit to put some Neosporin on my cut foot and bandaged it up. Then I went outside of the cave and trudged past the sand dudes gathering kindling, wood, and a couple of coconuts. In the distance, I could have sworn I saw sugar cane growing wild.

It started to sprinkle. The storm was here. Going as fast I could, I made my way back to my cave. It was a shallow cave, and I went back to the back wall to start my fire. Wrapping a blanket around me, a munched on a protein bar next to the fire as the wind and rain came whipping down.

I ran a hand against my head and discovered a small knot. I must have hit my head. That would explain why I was out cold on the beach. Closing my eyes, I tried to remember. We launched from San Juan, Puerto Rico. We were going yachting around the island. Vague warnings came to mind. Don’t go that way- you’re too close to the Bermuda Triangle. There’s a storm in the distance – maybe two to three days out. Dock at Isidra. Well, that didn’t happen. We must have caught something. A wind? The storm? For the life of me I couldn’t remember. Where was Simon? Alex? I sighed. Not here with me. Did we go into the Triangle? Lord, I hope not. There were too many stories of going into the Triangle and not coming back. Well, I couldn’t look for them now. I settled next to the fire to wait.

***********

I woke up after a long sleep. The fire was down to ashes, but the rain had stopped. Looking outside, the sky was partly cloudy. The area was wet, but it hadn’t rained in a bit. In the distance, I saw the sails of ship – an old fashioned ship? Maybe a yacht? I kept the blanket around my shoulders and walked-limped to the shore. The ship grew closer. There were three staffs, all with big full sails. I spied a flag on the stern, but couldn’t quite make it out. Was this a clipper ship? It would take about an hour to get here. I trudged back to cave, built the fire back up and cracked a coconut, drinking the milk. I wish I had a watch. I’d have to build a sun dial next and pray I got it right.

There was no good place to build a sundial. I found a flat enough rock and used what was in the emergency box. I tried to find a station on the radio, but it was all static. As I completed this chore, the ship drew closer and pulled up an anchor. I could make out the flag now – the Jolly Roger. I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Didn’t pirates in the history books fly that flag?
A skiff was launching from the clipper ship. They used paddles to row the boat. I walked over to the shore and waved. A man stood. He wore a white shirt with long puffy sleeve, a brown leather vest, and black pants tucked into boots. He made no gesture toward me, just glanced at the three men rowing the boat. After a few minutes, they hit shallow water, stepped out, and tugged the skiff to the shore. I started to shuffle toward them.

The man in charge drew a pistol and pointed it at me. I stopped and raised my hands. “Hey, I’m unarmed.”

One of the rowers, dressed in similar garb, walked over to me, patted me down, and said in English using a thick foreign accent. “He’s clean.”

I started walking briskly toward the guy in charge, pointing a finger at him. “Who do you think you are?”

The guy who gave me the pat down grabbed me, pulled my arms behind me and held me firm. “What is going on?” I demanded.

As I was struggling, the two other rowers dragged my friends, Simon and Alex ashore. They were gagged and bound at the hands and feet. They looked awake as their eyes grew wide upon seeing me.
The man in charge slid his gun back into the holster, but it was no modern looking gun – more like one with a flintlock.

“I am Captain Roger Moore of the Tally-Ho and we sail these parts, some would call us pirates, but I would say we’re privateers.” He grinned so wicked I didn’t know what to think.

“Pirates? You’re a pirate?”

“Um, Privateer. Who are you? The way you’re looking at these scoundrels, I say you know them?” He pointed to Simon and Alex.

“I’m Budapest Jones and these are my mates, Simon and Alex.”

“Well, that’s an interesting name. And what are you doing sailing these parts? We caught them floating on some driftwood of a broken ship.”

I made a face. “We were yachting around Puerto Rico.”

Roger arched an eyebrow. “Yachting, you say?”

“Yeah. For fun.”

“You fools went yachting for fun? You did know there was a storm brewing?”

“It wasn’t supposed to hit for a couple more days.”

“And then there’s a patch of water that no one goes sailing through – it eats ships never to return.”

“The Bermuda Triangle?”

“He’s a nutter, Captain,” said one of the rowers. He joined Roger at his side.

“I’m not a nutter! It’s 2000. What’s a privateer?”

Roger walked up to me and looked me down from head to toe. “You’re a nutter. It’s 1821.”

“What?” I grew limp in my captor’s arms, shocked at the date. Honestly, all the fight went out of me. Did we get blown off course? Did we go through the Bermuda Triangle and end up on this island in the year 1821, our yacht smashed? How would we get back? Could we get back?

Roger gestured to his man. “Let Budapest go.”

He released me and I stood, shell shocked.

“Did you go through that patch of water you should have avoided? What did you call it – the Bermuda Triangle?”

I swallowed. “I think so.”

“Well, mate, that water isn’t stable. I wouldn’t dare try to go back – who knows what would happen. Besides, you have no ship. I found these two floating on driftwood.”

“Why did you bring them here?”

“This was the nearest island. We were going to leave them here.”

“Does anyone live here? Indians?”

“The island is uninhabited. We come here to harvest the sugar cane and sell it in San Juan for money.”

“Is that what a privateer does?”

Roger shrugged his shoulders. “Yes.”

“So why did you call yourself pirates?”

“We fly a pirate flag and call ourselves that so anyone we encounter wouldn’t mess with us.”

Simon grunted.

I pointed to my friends. “Do you mind if I free them.”

“You’ve earned a certain degree of sympathy from me, but the first untoward movement, you all get hog tied again.”

I walked over to my friends and untied them. Both Alex and Simon were befuddled.

“Jones, did I hear right – it’s 1821?” said Simon. He sat there like a lump on a log.

“Did we really go through the triangle?” Alex rubbed his ankles.

“We must have.” I rubbed my hands together.

“What now?” asked Simon.

I turned toward Roger. “You can’t leave us on this island.”

“Why not?” he crossed his arms. “My sympathy only goes so far.”

“Make us members of your crew,” I offered.

Roger arched an eyebrow. “The three of you? What do you have to offer?”

Simon turned to me. “Yeah – what do we have to offer?”

“Our hard work and labor. We’ll be good crew members – do whatever he says.”

“He’s a pirate!” Alex exclaimed.

“A privateer. There’s a difference,” said Roger, hands on hips.

“Look, Jones—” began Simon.

“Do you really want to stay on this unhabituated island living off sugar cane and coconuts?” I asked. “If this is really 1821, I want to be around people – I still want to live my life.”

Simon and Alex turned mute and stared at each for a long minute.

Finally Simon spoke, “You do have a point.”

Alex let out a long breath. “Yeah, I don’t want to live here if there’s no women.”

I sighed. I mean, yeah, I like women, too, but I would want to live a life with some type of purpose, even if I was part of a privateer’s crew.

I straightened my shoulders and firmed up my resolve. “Let’s strike a deal, Roger.”

“Oh? And what do you propose Budapest?” Roger motioned for his crew to gather around him.

“Take me, Simon, and Alex on as part of your crew. We promise to work hard. You’ll pay us the standard wage.”

“Captain, they hardly look sturdy,” said one.

“Don’t let ‘em on the bridge. If they wrecked their own ship, we don’t want them to wreck ours.”

“We do need a cook,” a third said.

“Do one of you cook?” Roger rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Jones can cook,” volunteered Simon.

“Well, I can grill food, I don’t know that qualifies for cooking,” I said.

After consulting with his crew, Roger finally looked at me. “We’ll take you on as part of the crew. Budapest, you’ll be our cook. Can the other two rig?”

“We can rig,” said Simon.

One of the sailors laughed. “Sure you can.”

“Well, then George you take Simon under your wing and make sure he can rig.” Roger glared at the sailor who laughed.

The grins on Roger’s crew sobered right up.

“Now, ya’ll wanna’ prove your worth? It’s time to cut some cane. We’re due in San Juan in a week.”
Roger paused. “Do you ya’ have any possession, Budapest?”

“Just a wooden crate in my cave.”

“Go get it. We’ll bring it to the ship. George and Scrub grab the machetes and take the two newbees to cut some cane. I’ll be along shortly with Budapest.”

“Aye, Captain.”

I took in a deep breath and set out for the cave, ready for a new adventure as a privateer.

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