Speck emerged into consciousness in the deepest recesses of the Underland, where the darkness is absolute and the air reeks of brimstone and decay. Like all grekkels, Speck's birth was solitary—a singular asexual spawning that required no parent, no companion, no witness. Within a week, the gangly creature had reached full maturity, its yellow eyes already gleaming with the cunning and mischief that defines grekkel-kind. The warren where Speck first drew breath was a chaotic maze of tunnels beneath the Simmaron region. Here, grekkels occasionally gathered when opportunity warranted, though such unions were invariably short-lived. Speck learned early that survival meant trusting no one—not the other grekkels who would teleport away at the first sign of danger, not the imp raiders who would as soon crush a grekkel as ignore one, and certainly not the haurek witch mothers whose magic could bind or destroy.
Speck's early existence followed the typical grekkel pattern: scavenging carrion, communing with flies and spiders, and perfecting the art of teleportation. The young grekkel discovered an unusual affinity for insects, particularly flies, which Speck would stun with a touch of magic and hoard in a small pouch fashioned from shed snake skin. These flies became Speck's currency, comfort, and occasional sustenance—each one tasting of sweet corruption as it crunched between yellow teeth.
Speck's life changed forever approximately three years ago, when the grekkel ventured too close to the surface world during a moonless night. The creature had been tracking a particularly interesting carrion scent—something dead but touched with magic—when Speck stumbled upon a clearing where a sitheri witch performed a dark ritual. Most grekkels would have fled or attempted to cause mischief. Speck, however, possessed an unusual trait for grekkel-kind: a fascination with magical practitioners. Unlike other goblins who feared magic out of superstition, grekkels were inherently magical themselves and possessed no such fear. Speck watched from the shadows as Saress, Brood Mother of the Hissing Scale tribe, completed her spell—a working that caused the very trees to weep black sap and the ground to tremble.
When the witch sensed Speck's presence, the grekkel expected death. Instead, Saress saw opportunity. The sitheri had need of a scout and spy, something small and cunning that could move through spaces her scaled form could not, something that would not betray her out of loyalty to clan or kin. A grekkel, bound by magical compact rather than trust, would serve admirably. "You will serve me, little watcher-in-darkness," Saress had hissed, her forked tongue tasting the air. "You will be my eyes where mine cannot see, my hands where mine cannot reach. In exchange, I grant you protection from your own kind and power beyond your meager dreams." Speck, already possessing a crude sense of self-preservation and recognizing genuine power when confronted with it, agreed. The witch performed a binding ritual, marking Speck with invisible sigils that would cause pain should the grekkel betray her, but also granted protection from other magical practitioners and enhanced Speck's natural resistance to magic. More importantly, the binding provided Speck with something no grekkel typically possessed: purpose.
Speck's service to Saress proved more complex than simple slavery. The witch was demanding, temperamental, and quick to anger—Speck learned this during the incident with the special potion, when clumsy three-fingered hands had knocked over months of careful preparation. The grekkel had fled as Saress's hissing rage followed, certain death awaited. But the witch spared Speck, recognizing the grekkel's value outweighed the momentary satisfaction of revenge. This lesson shaped Speck's understanding of worth: to survive, one must be useful. The grekkel learned to anticipate Saress's needs, to fetch components before being asked, to spy on potential threats, and to manage the witch's network of insect informants. Speck discovered a talent for negotiation—at least with creatures smaller and less powerful. The gatherer spiders, in particular, became valuable allies. Speck would provide them with stunned flies, honor bargains made, and build a reputation as a grekkel who kept his word (a rarity among goblin-kind). This network of tiny spies extended Saress's reach throughout her territory in the Simmaron.
Living in the Dormont Forest suited Speck well. The dense canopy blocked much of the hated sunlight, and the shadows felt comfortable, familiar—like home. Speck made a nest in a hollow near Saress's dwelling, lined with collected trinkets: a broken mirror shard, a tarnished copper coin, a blue glass bead, several interesting bones, and a dried beetle of unusual size. These baubles held no monetary value, but Speck cherished them nonetheless, each one representing a moment of discovery in an otherwise purposeful existence.
Speck embodies the contradictions inherent to grekkel nature. The creature is simultaneously servile and proud, cowardly and aggressive, calculating and impulsive. When addressing Saress, Speck heaps upon her the most elaborate titles—"O Mighty Harbinger of Death, O Brood Mother Supreme, O Mistress of Shadow"—partly from genuine respect for her power, partly from obsequious habit, and partly from a grekkel's natural tendency toward dramatic excess. Yet Speck possesses a vindictive streak that runs deep. The grekkel does not forget slights, nursing grievances like a miser counting coins. Other grekkels who have mocked Speck's servitude, haurek warriors who have kicked at the grekkel during visits to their mistress, even certain spiders who have been slow to deliver information—all have earned a place in Speck's mental catalog of enemies who might one day suffer revenge.
The grekkel's humor is dark and often centered on suffering. Speck delights in imagining violence—spiders sucking the life from helpless flies, enemies writhing in pain, the satisfaction of revenge—yet Speck also demonstrates moments of surprising restraint. When tempted to kill a gatherer spider and keep its payment, Speck chose instead to honor the bargain, recognizing that a living, useful tool serves better than momentary satisfaction. This calculating intelligence beneath the chaotic exterior shows that Speck has learned from Saress: sometimes preserving a useful asset trumps immediate gratification. Speck speaks of himself in the third person when excited or seeking to impress: "Speck honors his bargains," "Tell them about Speck." The grekkel's voice carries a screeching quality when agitated, but can modulate to surprising softness when attempting stealth or cunning. Speck frequently interjects "Delicious!" when sampling flies or imagining violence. The creature mimics Saress's more formal speech patterns—"What tidings, little one?"—but lapses into crude goblinish when emotional or threatened.
As a grekkel, Speck possesses the full range of typical grekkel abilities. The creature's teleportation leaves behind the characteristic smell of brimstone and requires line of sight to the destination. Speck uses this ability constantly, appearing and disappearing in clouds of vapor, making the grekkel nearly impossible to track or trap. Speck's magical nature causes misfortune in others—arrows missing their marks, strings snapping at crucial moments, plans going subtly awry. This passive ability makes Speck particularly valuable to Saress, as the grekkel's mere presence can tip the scales in the witch's favor during confrontations. The grekkel's communion with insects proves especially useful. Speck can speak with flies, mosquitoes, spiders, and scorpions, coordinating their movements and receiving information they gather. The network of gatherer spiders serves as Saress's surveillance system, with Speck as the intermediary who collects their findings and distributes rewards. Speck also possesses the grekkel ability to weave nightmares by whispering dread things into the ears of sleepers, though the creature rarely uses this talent. Saress prefers more direct methods of intimidation, and Speck finds greater satisfaction in more tangible forms of mischief.
In combat, Speck relies on ambush and surprise rather than direct confrontation. The grekkel carries a small, crude spear and will use teeth and claws when necessary, but prefers to teleport away from serious threats. When threatened by multiple opponents, Speck excels at harassment and distraction, using hit-and-run tactics while other grekkels create chaos—though Speck has learned that other grekkels' loyalty extends only as far as their immediate self-interest.
Speck's relationship with Saress is complex and often contradictory. The grekkel genuinely fears the witch's power and temper—the magical binding ensures obedience through pain—yet Speck also takes pride in serving such a formidable mistress. When Saress refers to Speck as "an annoying little creature, but he serves me well," the grekkel feels both the sting of the insult and the warmth of the acknowledgment. The witch provides Speck with purpose and protection, two things rare in the chaotic existence of grekkel-kind. Under Saress's aegis, Speck need not constantly watch for betrayal from other grekkels, can maintain a stable lair, and can build the network of insect informants without competition. In return, Saress gains a spy who can reach places she cannot, gather intelligence from tiny observers, and serve as an early warning system against threats.
Yet Speck never forgets that the relationship is one of compulsion rather than choice. The grekkel occasionally fantasizes about freedom, about returning to the simple chaos of the Underland where no one expects anything beyond immediate survival. But Speck has grown accustomed to comfort, to having a full belly and a safe lair, to being valued for service rendered. The binding might force obedience, but habit and self-interest maintain it. The grekkel understands that survival depends on remaining useful. Any failure that renders Speck disposable could mean death. This knowledge drives the creature to excel in service, to anticipate needs, to prove indispensable. The fear of failure—not of pain or death, but of losing purpose and position—motivates Speck more than the magical binding ever could.
Beneath the servile exterior and performative loyalty, Speck harbors dreams and desires characteristic of grekkel nature. The creature craves recognition, not from equals (for grekkels acknowledge no equals) but from those with power. Speck wants Saress to acknowledge the grekkel's indispensability, to see Speck as more than merely useful but as irreplaceable. Speck also harbors a deep-seated desire for revenge against any who show disrespect. Other grekkels who mock Speck's servitude, haurek warriors who kick at the grekkel, spiders who are slow to deliver information—all earn a place in Speck's mental catalog of slights. The grekkel nurses these grievances like a miser counting coins, imagining elaborate vengeance for each offense, though the opportunity for such revenge rarely presents itself.
Yet perhaps Speck's deepest desire is simple: to matter. In the vast Underland, individual grekkels mean nothing. They spawn, they cause chaos, they die, and no one marks their passing. But Speck has found a place in the world above, a role that gives meaning to existence. The grekkel takes pride in honoring bargains, in being known to the gatherer spiders as trustworthy, in serving Saress with competence. This desire for significance, rare among goblin-kind, sets Speck apart and perhaps explains why the witch chose this particular grekkel from all the others she might have bound to her service.
After three years in Saress's service, Speck has become an integral part of the witch's operations. The grekkel manages an extensive network of insect spies throughout the Dormont Forest and surrounding areas, providing Saress with intelligence about travelers, potential threats, and opportunities. Speck's reputation among the gatherer spiders as a grekkel who honors bargains has proven invaluable, as these tiny observers report information they would never share with others. For other grekkels who have witnessed Speck's rise to relative prominence, the creature has become both an example and an anomaly. Some see in Speck's service a path to power and security, choosing to bind themselves to witches and dark sorcerers rather than continuing the chaotic existence typical of their kind. Others view Speck with contempt, seeing the grekkel's servitude as a betrayal of grekkel independence and love of mischief for its own sake.
Speck cares nothing for these judgments. The grekkel has found a place in the world, has carved out a niche where a creature who should matter not at all proves essential to the schemes of beings far more powerful. Whether this represents success or tragedy, freedom or deeper bondage, Speck neither knows nor cares. There are always more flies to gather, more spiders to bargain with, more services to perform for the mistress, and more slights to add to the list of those who might one day suffer Speck's revenge. And for a grekkel, that is more than enough.
FIRST APPEARANCE
Speck first appears in The Hall of the Wood.
