Ophelia Morwynn's Questionnaire

I live in the very centre of New Orleans. This city rich in history, mysticism, and the paranormal. I picked it because it offers a veil of secrecy amid the vibrant chaos, in addition to its strong connections to Voodoo, witchcraft, and occult traditions. The city was the perfect place for me to find more of my kind, witches living in secrecy, cast out by the world. 

I reside in a modern, clean apartment in the city. My apartment is a cosy blend of contemporary comfort and antique elegance, with vintage furniture, ornate mirrors, and various trinkets scattered throughout. My home is my safe space, a refuge from the world and it's troubles.

I earn my living by a mixture of ancient folklore and modern commerce. I have a small, discreet occult shop in New Orleans where I sell strange magical trinkets, spellbound objects, and arcane books to those in the know. The transactions are always subtly managed, nothing too overt, and definitely not traceable. I also know how to put my mind, my brain, to use in making investments and property deals that no one would ever question.  All that I've constructed, everything that I possess, has been carefully woven into place over the past few years, it has not been easy, however a good friend of mine named Martin helped me get on my feet.

My wish is to rebuild the witch's covenant, something lost with time, defiled and erased by history. I wish to construct a sanctuary where magic practitioners may live in peace, concealed from the world that wants to destroy them. I will bring together those who can see what I can see, those touched by fate or magic, and I shall offer them a sisterhood that the world has never known.

To achieve this, I would do anything. I would use magic, deceive, and break man's laws and the law of magic if it is necessary. I will not hesitate to make sacrifices, be that using dark magic, making dangerous alliances, or killing anyone who stands in my way. Yes, I would kill for it. For power, protection, for my people, little I will not do. And the cost of my own life? I have already died. I know the cost of resurrection. If I must proceed to the brink of death once more to ensure the witches' destiny, so be it. I am already out of death's reach. The covenant will come, no matter what the cost.

The most defining event of my life was my death, and the betrayal that led to it.

My soul trembled at the overwhelming fervour of the crowd, their zealous desire to see my death. They called me heretic, demon, witch. I saw no justice in their eyes, only fear twisted into cruelty. Nothing could compare to the moment my own brother raised the hammer and crucified me. He betrayed me, the one I trusted most. I begged him, begged him to let me go, to allow me the dignity of a peaceful death. He said nothing. Not a word.

I died slowly, painfully, my soul left behind, curled and weeping at the base of the cross. And so I prayed. I asked for God to grant me the smallest of miracles. But none came. I remained bound, my body a symbol of shame and hatred. Passersby threw rocks at me. Children laughed. Strangers jeered. My own family came to see me, my corpse, and they spat curses on my name. They called me a demon. An abomination.

After two days of rot and silence, it was my family who set my body aflame in the town square. The fire consumed me slowly, the stench of burnt flesh filling the air like incense for a twisted rite. And through a faint gap in the smoke, I saw her, my mother, smiling.

I gave in to hatred. But still, I prayed. I asked for one last miracle, not for vengeance, but for power. If I could reverse the sun itself, I would have made a world where no soul would ever suffer as I had.

Then, all sound vanished. All remaining senses dissolved. And in that void, something answered. Three hundred years later, I awoke, scarred, changed, reborn into this world.

That death was not the end of me. It was my awakening. And now I carry that pain not as a burden, but as a weapon. I will never be crucified again. I will build a world where the witches, the unwanted, and the cursed have a place, under my protection, beneath my covenant, and beyond the reach of the flames.

1. Marlowe Lacrox – The Warlock Ally
A disarmingly mysterious occultist in his mid-30s, Marlowe has a secret bookstore in the Garden District that doubles as a front for magical enterprise. He was the first to recognize Ophelia for what she was. Though not always to be trusted, he has a certain respect for her skills and often sells forbidden books, enchanted objects, and magical subculture knowledge. They share a complex relationship, banter, rivalry, and uncomfortable alliance simultaneously. He claims to be on her side, but it is uncertain where his loyalty lies.

2. Mr. Martin Woods – The Kind-Hearted Baker
 A old baker named Martin owned a small corner bakery close to Ophelia. He was the first human being in the modern world to be kind to her without probing. When she returned, battered and with a tattered sanity, he offered her bread, a place to sit, and demanded nothing in return. Although he is aware of the odd things that follow her, he does not inquire about them.
To him, she's just "Miss Ophelia." In his quiet way, he reminds her of the goodness that still exists in people. She visits his shop often, sitting in the corner with tea while he whistles old Cajun songs. If anybody ever harmed him, there would be fire.

3. Ellie – The Teen with the Hidden Talent
A 17-year-old runaway with an inexplicable affinity for spirits, Ellie came to Ophelia after being tormented by visions she could not make sense of. Helplessly drawn to her like a moth to flame, she is now her student and shadow. Enthusiastic, talented, and careless, Elian is the new generation of witches Ophelia will fight to save. She recalls for herself what she used to be—innocent, not marred by betrayal—and in keeping her secure is an implicit vow that the cycle of hurt will end with her.