Upon the creaking deck of a ship that has tasted countless storms, he stands with the pride of a sovereign of the sea. His fur, brushed by the salt wind, gleams beneath the shadow of a tricorn hat adorned with the mark of death. A pistol rests firmly in one paw, while a cutlass glimmers at his side, ready to draw blood or carve destiny.
This is no ordinary sailor, but the terror of the ocean’s lanes—the Corsair of the Crimson Whiskers. His amber eyes burn with the hunger of conquest, his every step resonating with authority earned not by birthright, but by fire, steel, and endless waves. The crew follows him not out of fear alone, but with a reverence carved from victories etched in legend.
Where his sails rise, kingdoms tremble. Where his shadow falls, fortune and ruin collide. He is both myth and master of the tides, a feline pirate whose name is whispered by merchants in dread and sung by rogues in awe. The sea itself seems to bow to him—for he is the storm given fur and whiskers.
Created by Indah Widyaningrum with support from AI.