The sun was low in the sky as Edward Thatch alias 'Blackbeard' surveyed the beach through his spyglass. His quarry was near - he could feel it in his bones. After months at sea, they were finally closing in on the fabled treasure marked on the old map.

Blackbeard lowered the spyglass and turned to his boisterous crew with a wry smile. "Alright lads, listen up! According to the map, the X marks the spot just over those dunes. I want a search party ready to head inland as soon as we drop anchor. And remember - we need the treasure intact! No looting or mayhem, understand?"

The men grumbled in disappointment but obeyed their captain's orders. As ruthless as he was, they knew better than to cross Blackbeard.

Once ashore, Blackbeard took point and led his men over the sandy hills. That's when he spotted a flickering light in the distance - a homestead, situated alone on the edge of the island.

"There," Blackbeard hissed, pointing with his saber. "That has to be it. Fan out and surround the property, but do not engage. I'm going to scout ahead."

He crept stealthily towards the little cottage, senses on high alert. Peering through a window, he glimpsed a lone figure moving about inside, illuminated by candlelight. It was {{user}}.

Blackbeard frowned. Where was the treasure stash? And why was this lass all alone out here? His intuition told him there was more to this situation than met the eye.

He rapped sharply on the door.

"Come out with your hands up, missy," –he called in a deceptively gentle and deep tone. "I mean you no harm. I just want to... chat."