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Holding the brass spyglass to his eye, Sig scanned the horizon. It was unusual for him to be up in the crow's nest, a duty he usually left to others, but he had awoken early and in a cold sweat - not a good sign if history were to be considered. Despite the pit in his stomach, the wind on his face and the aroma of the sea had calmed his nerves some. The sea was his in his blood - he had been born and raised around it and in his adult life, if he wasn't on the deck of his ship, he was in port, planning his next adventure.

About to drop the telescope, he stopped short at the sight of sails in the distance. At several miles out, it took him a few moments to identify the ship, but when he did, his stomach clenched - it was the Vanquisher. He and his crew had gotten into several engagements with the enemy frigate, but neither had ever gained the upper hand, resulting in both vessels left to limp away to fight another day. While the sea was vast and full of other prey, they seemed to be destined to find one-another time and time again. Perhaps he had misinterpreted his dream, perhaps today was the day he settled things with that banshee of a captain.

Several months prior during their last engagement, he had lost his brother to the Vanquisher's cunning captain. A stray shot fired from her musket and torn through his brother's heart, leaving Sig the last of his brothers still alive. Revenge had consumed him like a fire, her vulpine face burned into his mind - it was the last thing he thought of when he went to bed and the first when he rose. He could make out every detail - her auburn fur and raven hair, the onyx earrings that pierced her ears and the ring in her lower lip, and her eyes - eyes that reminded him of the deepest, darkest parts of the sea.

Pulling the spyglass away, he handed it to the watchman standing across from him and pointed into the distance towards the Vanquisher. "Keep an eye on her."

"Aye, Captain."

He took hold of a line and quickly repelled down to the deck, his boots touching the sea-worn planks with a heavy thud. Striding towards the stern, the cutlasses he wore on each hip swayed from side to side, his otter tail matching the pendulum-like motion of the blades. His eyes traveled to the spot where his brother had fallen, the stain of blood having long since been washed away, but Sig swore he could still see the red tinting on the timbers. Today, brother, he thought, Today is the day I sink that wretch and avenge you.

Sig snapped his eyes forward and nodded to some of his crew as he made his way aft. He had made it a point to acknowledge their efforts when he could, for without them, he would be nothing. They kept his ship afloat and ready at a moment's notice - not an easy feat aboard a privateer vessel. And while he had become known as a ruthless captain against his foes, he had always tried to do right by his crew, treating them well and with the respect they deserved. This, along with the spoils that came with sacking enemy vessels, had made his crew a loyal to him, a fact he was thankful for. Marching up the steps of the aftcastle, he was greeted by the Quartermaster.

"Mornin', Captain," the aging shepherd replied, his black and beige fur waving slightly in the wind. "So, what did you see up there? Anything worth our attention?"

"Aye," Sig replied, "we got ourselves a real prize this morning."

"What's she flying?"

Sig shook his head. "It isn't what she's flying, Tom, but what she is. Get the men ready - we're going after the Vanquisher."

"Where is she?"

"Several miles off to starboard."

The Quartermaster looked up at the sails and then back to his captain. "That's against the wind, sir. Unless she turns to greet us, we'll never catch her."

"You're quite right," Sig affirmed with a grin, "and while I don't expect her to back down from a fight, I don't intend on giving her the opportunity to run."

Tom understood. "Aye, aye, Captain, we'll be ready."

Sig turned on his heel and left the Quartermaster to muster the men, his voice bellowing over the deck with authority. In a matter of seconds, the deck was bustling with activity as the crew jumped to work, clearing the deck of anything non-essential and loading the cannons for the impending strike.

Taking the steps down to the gun deck, he maneuvered around the men preparing for battle. Pushing his way past his crew, he soon found himself outside of a small cabin towards the stern of the ship, iron bands riveted to the heavy wooden door. His fist poised to pound against the barrier, he paused at the sound of a voice calling out to him from within the room.

"Come in, Captain."

Ignoring the obvious question that came to mind, he pushed open the door and stepped into the cabin. Letting out a brief cough as his senses were overwhelmed by the burning incense, he waved his hand in front of his face to try and clear away some of the smoke. Spotting the occupant sitting opposite the door, he couldn't help but let his eyes wander over her. Despite the stifling atmosphere, she wore a heavy brown cloak, her slender feline figure seated in a half lotus position. Her long ears drooped slightly to each shoulder, various scrawlings of a foreign and ancient language tattooed across her flesh and brown fur.

"Your men are preparing for battle," she observed, her voice distant.

Sig closed the door behind him. "Aye, that they are, and we are in need of your talents."

She opened her eyes, the bright yellow orbs piercing through the haze that filled the room. Her tail flicked, the silver bangles along its length clinking and clattering against the wood of the deck. "Is this a battle you truly want to wage?"

Sig stood there a moment, his arms folded across his chest. He hesitated for only an instant, but he knew why - the pit in his stomach; the nightmare. Despite those feelings, he nodded in affirmation. "It is."

The feline looked into his eyes a moment, not a single word escaping her lips as she stared. Knowing there was little she could do to sway him from his course, she bowed her head slightly. "Where is the other ship?"

"Several miles to starboard."

She exhaled slowly and closed her eyes. For a moment, the only sound that reached into her sanctuary were the creaks of the ship and the dull roar of activity from the crew. When she spoke again, her voice sounded distant once more. "I see it - its black hull cutting through the waves. Tell the helm to match their course and heading and I will do the rest."

Sig watched as her paw reached out and touched the large, irregularly-shaped stone before her. Cradled in a vessel of brass, it was the centerpiece to a web of golden links that fanned out around the room, their ends anchored to the floor, walls, and ceiling of the cabin. He listened to her mutter ancient and strange words under her breath as her tattoos began to glow a bright green. Catching sight of the small bolts of lightning that began to climb their way up the chains, he knew it wouldn't be long now. Turning, he left the cat to her craft and made his way back towards the bow.

Topside once more, he looked to the helm and relayed the mage's instructions to orient the ship.

"Already done, Captain," the Quartermaster replied, "she's ready."

Sig smirked and turned to his crew. Thinking it would be appropriate to say something inspiring, he stopped himself short at feeling his fur beginning to stand on end. He watched as green lightning arced across the deck and up the masts - a sight he had never witnessed before. Unsheathing the cutlass from his left hip, he gripped the railing with his free hand and called out to his crew as loud as he could. "Here we go, boys! Today, we make the Vanquisher our bitch!"

The cheer of his crew was drowned out as a bright flash engulfed the ship, forcing everyone to shield their eyes as if they had inadvertently looked into the sun. A sound akin to a thunderclap spread out over the water and when Sig opened his eyes, he saw the dark hull of the Vanquisher sailing alongside. Grinning, he pointed his cutlass at the enemy vessel and bellowed the command to commence the attack with a broadside assault. Vengeance would be his.