Ripples-on-Glass — The Archive of Refuse

Ability Scores

STR

10

+0

DEX

12

+1

CON

14

+2

INT

16

+3

WIS

18

+4

CHA

13

+1

Combat

Armor Class: 14; Leather armor + Dex modifier
Hit Points: 61; Hit Dice: 9d8
Initiative: +1
Speed: 30 ft., swim 30 ft.
Proficiency: +4
Passive Perception: 18

Attacks

Quarterstaff+41d6 bludgeoning (one-handed) or 1d8 bludgeoning (two-handed)

Sacred FlameDC 16 Dex save2d8 radiant

Personality

Speaks in theatrical, archaic cadences to inanimate objects but stammers and avoids eye contact with living people; compulsively touches debris while muttering the names of its previous owners; performs full Shakespearean death scenes to sea creatures as 'warm-up exercises'; keeps extensive notes on garbage but forgets acquaintances' faces within hours

Ideal

Liberation—Every piece of knowledge locked away is a crime against the universe's flow. Secrets must be freed, consequences be damned.

Bond

A waterlogged journal from the shipwreck of their birth, its pages now blank but still whispering with voices only they can hear—the first congregation that ever listened without judgment

Flaw

Cannot hold a conversation with a living person for more than thirty seconds without inventing an excuse to flee, yet will lecture a crab for twenty minutes on pre-imperial taxation policy

Backstory

Ripples-on-Glass was born during a storm that washed an entire merchant vessel into a seaside cavern, transforming what should have been tragedy into the greatest library they would ever know. While salvage crews hauled away gold and spices, the infant genasi was found clutching a waterlogged journal, and the midwife who raised them swore the child read it before they could walk. By their thirtieth year, Ripples had developed an unsettling gift: touching any discarded object revealed its history in vivid, overwhelming flashes—the calloused hands that shaped it, the words spoken near it, the moment it was abandoned. The local temple of Oghma tried to claim them as a prodigy, but the incense made them sneeze and the acolytes never stopped talking.

They fled to the coast and discovered their true congregation: the detritus of civilization, cast into tide pools and forgotten grottos. There, among barnacle-crusted pottery and salt-eaten books, Ripples heard the voice of what they call the Discarded Divine—not a god, exactly, but the collective memory of everything thrown away. They became its cleric by accident, their fervent whispered prayers to a broken compass answered with genuine divine power. The revelation terrified them. Knowledge, they realized, wasn't meant to be hoarded in temple vaults; it was meant to flow like water, clearing blockages, flooding the parched.

Now Ripples wanders the coastline, performing elaborate historical reenactments for audiences of seagulls and driftwood, building courage through soliloquy. They can recite the last words of a drowned sailor from the scrimshaw in their pocket but will panic and flee if asked their own mother's name. They believe every secret kept is a dam in the universe's current, and they've made it their mission to spring leaks wherever they find them—whether the secret-keepers want them sprung or not.

Abilities & Actions

Psychometry of the Forsaken (3/day)

Ripples touches a discarded object and enters a trance for 1 minute, experiencing vivid sensory memories of the object's history. They learn the object's origin, previous owners' names, significant moments it witnessed, and the circumstances of its abandonment. If used on an object connected to a creature, Ripples gains advantage on all Intelligence checks related to that creature for 24 hours. If the object holds traumatic memories, Ripples must succeed on a DC 13 Wisdom saving throw or become stunned until the end of their next turn from sensory overload.

Blessing of Unclogging (Recharge 5-6)

Ripples channels their deity's imperative to free trapped knowledge. As an action, they touch a creature and force it to immediately reveal one secret it's keeping (no saving throw, but the creature chooses which secret). The creature suffers no ill effects and often feels a sense of relief. Alternatively, Ripples can target a locked container or sealed door within 5 feet—it opens automatically, and any magical wards on it are suppressed for 1 minute. The scrap-metal lyre thrums discordantly when this ability activates.

Knowledge Domain: Knowledge of the Ages

Ripples can use their Channel Divinity to tap into a divine well of knowledge. For 10 minutes, they have proficiency in any skill or tool of their choice from the following: Arcana, History, Nature, Religion, or any artisan's tool. The knowledge comes not from books but from the psychic impressions of every discarded tool and scrap they've ever touched.

Rehearsed Courage (1/day)

After spending at least 10 minutes performing a dramatic monologue to a non-hostile audience (living or inanimate), Ripples gains temporary confidence. For the next hour, they have advantage on Charisma checks when interacting with humanoids, but only while holding or gesturing with their scrap-metal lyre. If interrupted mid-performance or if the lyre is taken away, the effect ends immediately and Ripples must succeed on a DC 12 Wisdom saving throw or become frightened of the nearest humanoid for 1 minute.

Waterborne Escape

Ripples can cast Shape Water at will. Additionally, as a bonus action, they can command any standing water within 30 feet to create difficult terrain or briefly obscure vision with mist. When panicked, they instinctively use this to create cover before fleeing. Their hair floats upward more dramatically when this ability is active.

DM Notes

Ripples speaks in a trembling, theatrical baritone when addressing objects ('Ah, bent spoon! What tales of soup and sorrow dost thou harbor?') but reduces to barely audible mumbles and averted eyes with people. Their signature gesture is touching their temple with one finger while their eyes glaze over, accessing object-memories. They compulsively collect 'interesting trash' and will interrupt any conversation to retrieve a fascinating piece of driftwood. If a player treats them with genuine kindness without demanding immediate answers, Ripples will remember them—a feat they almost never manage. Their deal-breaker: anyone who suggests knowledge should be controlled, hidden, or sold. They'll immediately cast Bane and flee, shouting about 'tyranny of the hoarded word.' When nervous (always), their skin ripples like water disturbed by wind. Use them for: cryptic historical revelations delivered to barnacles that the party happens to overhear, accidental quest-giver who panics and runs away mid-sentence, or moral quandaries about whether some secrets should stay buried.