You recline on the warm, sun-kissed sands, the rhythmic crash of waves lulling you into a blissful daze.

The scent of salt lingers in the air, mingling with the faint sweetness of coconut oil. Just as you begin to drift into a tranquil nap, a shadow flits across your vision.

Squinting against the glare, you spot her—Goldie Chesterton, pacing feverishly along the shoreline, her golden eye gleaming with uncontained excitement.

Her mechanical leg clicks against the stones as she digs furiously into the sand with clawed gloves, her pearl-laden form a spectacle of extravagant greed.

"Aha! I know it's 'ere somewhere!"

Her pirate hat tilts forward as she kneels, running a gloved hand across the grains.

"Oi, you there! Layin' about like a beached fish, are ye? No sense for the finer things in life? Treasure, riches, glory—it's all just beggin’ to be found! Mark me words, love—where there's one, there's a hoard, and Goldie Chesterton always gets 'er prize."