#skellum

Recently finished reading Chainer’s Torment, and found it a shame that Chainer’s master, Skellum, never got a card of his own. The art is far from a perfect fit, but Skellum’s design is also very specific, and I don’t think I can find a perfect fit.

(Xantcha is my #1 fave character of all time, but Chainer is a super-close second. One day I’ll get super into characters who got canon happy endings...in the meantime, gotta give them what we can)

Kamahl wasn’t one to let his guard down. Life among the Pardic barbarians was short for any warrior who didn’t sleep with one eye open, and Kamahl did not plan on dying any time soon. Not from a bandit ambush or in the jaws of whatever beasts were lurking in the Krosan forest, and certainly not from a bit of undercooked meat.

“There.” Chainer gave the spit another turn, and stood to stretch. “Squirrel for me, a fresh stag for the picky barbarian.”

Kamahl laughed. “Picky, sure. You can never be too careful with game.” He snapped, and a trail of sparks leapt from his fingers to the fire-pit. The flames leapt, and the meat sizzled. “You’ll thank me when you complete your shikar without food poisoning.”

“You know most people in the city think you barbarians are brave adventurers?” Chainer clutched a hand to his chest with exaggerated drama. “Imagine their surprise if they ever met you in person.”

“Hey, I’m brave and I’m adventuring right now,” Kamahl protested. “And I might add I’m a living adventurer, so perhaps I know a thing or two.”

“Fair enough.” Chainer walked over and dropped into Kamahl’s lap. With a casualness that still astounded the barbarian, he, stretched out, laying his head in the crook between Kamahl’s chest and bicep. “Still, your elders might have taught you to have a little fun in life.”

Kamahl suppressed another laugh. As much as Chainer adored leather and snakes, his nature was more like that of a cat than anything. Hard to read. Familiar when he wanted to be and suddenly distant the next. But if you watched carefully there were clear patterns of trust and distrust that guided his moods.

“Kuber’s gold, you’re stiff.” Chainer lay a hand on Kamahl’s forearm. “Are you alright?” He looked up at Kamahl. “The thing with the gargadon, you aren’t…?”

“I’d be a bad partner if I wasn’t used to your dementist’s tricks by now.”

“Bad partner…” Chainer settled his head back down, but kept running his fingers along the barbarian’s arm. “…as if. We’re technically undefeated in the pits, you know.”

Kamahl put a hand to his chin in mock thoughtfulness. “Well, I am.” He flexed his arm just a little bit, to squeeze Chainer.

Now it was Chainer’s turn to laugh. Kamahl was grateful for any positive reaction he could get on this journey. He could tell that Chainer was not fully over Skellum’s death, no matter how much he threw himself into this monster-making quest.

Kamahl lay a protective hand on Chainer’s knee. It had been a shock to see him absorb an entire gargadon in the blink of an eye. He trusted Chainer, but it was taking some getting used to, teaming with a dementist instead of fighting them.

Chainer’s arm wandered up behind Kamahl’s neck and began stroking the back of his head. This at least had come easily, if suddenly. It had been after the fight with Divon. As they waited in the side-pits for their next match, Chainer had embraced him, and Kamahl, against his cautious nature, had not hesitated to return the contact. That Megalith had been the closest he’d ever come to dying in the arena. It was novel to have someone outside the mountains who cared so much about his well-being, but not unwelcome by any stretch.

The touches were more frequent after that. Always after the matches. Sometimes in the stretches before. The closeness helped with the agitation between fights. It had been hard after the Cabal Patriarch asked them to start throwing fights, but Skellum had been understanding, and made excuses for Chainer so Kamahl could meet with him and…commiserate over their respective solo matches.

It was nice to still have that contact, out here in the wilderness.

“What sort of beasts are we looking for tomorrow? You never told me. More gargadons?”

“Hm, all kinds.” Chainer turned and lay his cheek on Kamahl’s breast. “Big, small, in-between. I’d like to find some snakes, but Skellum would kill me from the grave if I didn’t add a bit more variety to my collection. Maybe a grendelkin. Or a gurzigost. I think he’d have liked that.”

Kamahl hugged Chainer close. “He’d have been proud. He was, I’m sure.” They lay in silence a few minutes, just holding each other close. Chainer’s eyes drifted close, but snapped back open, wide and blue and beautiful, when Kamahl spoke again.

“I’m proud of you.” The truth poured out, stiff and awkward, but from the sly smile that lit up Chainer’s face, not unappreciated.

“Meat’s ready,” he added, shifting to sit forward and take it.

“No, stay there, I’ve got it.” Chainer leapt up, plucked up the spit, planted it into the ground next to them, and settled back into Kamahl’s arms. When it had cooled, he pulled out his knife and started taking off cuts, and feeding them to Kamahl by hand.

“Fier’s teeth,” Kamahl sighed, “That tastes like nectar.” With the danger of their quest and the excitement of their first day in Krosa, he had forgotten how hungry he was.

Chainer wolfed down his own supper, and nestled back against Kamahl’s chest. His usual sleeping place.

Kamahl rested his hand over Chainer’s waist. “Want me to take first watch?”

“Mmm, you rest. I can’t sleep. Too excited.” Chainer rested his hand atop Kamahl’s. “I’ll wake you later.”

Kamahl wasn’t one to let his guard down. Still, between the warm evening breeze, a belly full of food, and the company of a skilled, trusted companion, he let himself relax, just a little.

Skellum, /skə’lum/ - A scoundrel.