Fripple wields considerable might among the ravine-dwelling gnomic folk, and as such, carries himself with rare bluster for a humanoid but three heads high. He wears gleaming white, full-body padded armor, with only a round cutout encircling his moon-shaped pudding face. His deliberate ensemble lulls attackers into a false sense of security before Fripple cuts them down using a full playlist of punishing spells. After his enemies fall, the viscera of battle is magically bleached from his war whites, like table linens ready for a feast. He is the sworn enemy of Lectus, and you will read about him shortly.
Lectus leads a small cliffside warband that dwells along the craggy walls that encapsulate Fripple’s ravine. If given a choice between a life of berserking and architecture, he’d select the latter. Orphaned young and discovered by a human archeologist inside a thatch-roofed hut, Lectus received a fine education with a focus on ancient civilizations and their architectural history. As such, his warband dwells inside well-built, stylish, brutalist outcroppings. Occasionally, his men will hurtle boulders down the ravine, just to remind Fripple they are there, but typically, Lectus relies on guile and misdirection in keeping his enemies at bay. Fripple’s magic cannot penetrate Lectus’ bunkers, of which metropolitan curators and funders have heralded for their expressionistic form and contemporary amenities.