FantasyNames.io

Witch Name Generator

A gaunt, stooped witch in an aubergine coat rises from a crouch beside a glowing stump on a dark moor.
CCCIII
Hedge Witches of Peat Country

Press Generate to draw a name.

Strigula paludis

Danger
Size
6 ft
Activity
Nocturnal

Name generator

Press Generate to draw a name.

Gender
Length

Kindred Arcana

Witch names and their meanings

Select a name to copy it. Every name below is free to use.

Boundary Stone

A single short name that sounds like a marker on a parish map.

Bog Plant

A two-syllable name drawn from a marsh plant or kitchen herb, softened at the edges.

Name and Habit

A blunt given name followed by a plain epithet describing what she grows or keeps.

Kitchen Tool

A name taken from a pot, a blade or a household implement, flat and unglamorous.

Bare Elder

The stripped-down name of a very old witch, with no epithet left.

How witch names are made

Witch names in the bog country are short and blunt, usually one or two syllables, and they sound like something you would find on a field boundary or a stone marking a drain. The sound palette leans on closed vowels and stopped consonants: k, t, d, g, with an occasional soft m or n to round the end. Long flowing names are rare and considered affectations, the kind a witch takes up when she wants to be noticed by people from town. Most witches carry a single given name, often taken from a plant, a tool, a weather condition or a patch of ground near the first house they kept. A second element, when used, is an epithet rather than a surname: a small deed, a habit, or a thing she grows.

These are added by neighbors, never chosen. Names avoid anything that sounds like a title or a blessing, and they avoid the names of saints and local officials. Older witches tend to drop the epithet and go by the bare given name, since everyone already knows who is meant. Young witches are often named for what they break or borrow. Shapes include: one syllable, hard stop at the end; two syllables, soft first vowel and a clipped finish; a bare name followed by a plain object or plant.

The witch: bestiary entry

My cart gave out at Vask, where the causeway ends in a field of cut reeds, and I finished the journey on foot behind a boy leading a goat. He stopped at the last stile. Past it the path is edged with pig jawbones laid end to end, each one scrubbed white, and it runs across Dole Moss to a one-room house with a sod roof. The chimney is a stack of iron pots with their bottoms knocked out. Smoke comes from the top pot only. The witch has lived here longer than the Vask parish book has pages.

She is tall and bent at the neck, as if the doorframe taught her to stoop. Her hair is the gray of wet ash and falls past the backs of her knees, knotted with dried burdock heads. Her fingernails are black from steeping peat, and she trims them at each new moon. The parings are what she leaves behind: curved black crescents the length of a thumb joint, scattered along the path. The Vask carters read them like tracks. Fresh ones bend. Old ones snap.

The garden has four rows. Nettles, bog myrtle, leeks gone to seed, and a row planted with nothing but spoons, bowl down, handles up, which she does not explain. A blackthorn hedge closes the lot. When I visited in April it stood a stride inside the fence. In October it stood outside, and the fence post it had passed was split from top to root. She eats eels from the cut, baked in bog-myrtle dough, and the bones go on the path with the nails. Maren Fitch, who keeps the Vask dairy, says the witch has not slept since the winter the dam failed. I sat up two nights and never saw her lamp go out, which proves only that I nodded off before she did.

Every Vask house sets a saucer of vinegar on the sill on nights the moss glows green. Maren says a witch cannot pass a smell that sharp without sneezing, and one who sneezes loses her place in whatever she was saying. Children are taught to hold their breath past the stile. It does nothing, but it keeps them from talking. On every visit the count from the last stile to her door has been the same: ninety-one paces.

Classification
Hedge witch, human-shaped spellcaster
Habitat
Peat moss and bog edges
Danger
Moderate
Size
6 ft, stooped to about 5 ft
Activity
Nocturnal
Realm
Marsh-edge farmland
Binomial
Strigula paludis
Diet
Eels, bog-myrtle bread, nettle broth
Temperament
Watchful, dry, easily slighted

Questions about witch names

What do witch names sound like in this generator?

They are short and blunt, usually one or two syllables, with stopped consonants and closed vowels. Many sound like field boundaries or kitchen tools, and some add a plain epithet such as a plant she grows or a habit neighbors noticed. Long ornate names are treated as affectations.

Can I use these witch names freely?

Yes. Every name the generator produces is free to use in any creative work, including novels, tabletop games, screenplays, video games and school projects. No attribution is needed, and you can change spellings, add epithets or mix styles however the story requires, without asking permission or crediting the guide.

Do witches have surnames or family names?

Rarely. A hedge witch usually carries one given name, and any second element is an epithet added by neighbors, such as an object or a deed. Older witches drop the epithet entirely, since everyone nearby already knows who is meant. You can add a house name if your setting needs one.

Which name style suits an old witch?

The Bare Elder style fits best. It produces a single short name with a low vowel and a dropped final consonant, the kind a witch ends up with after decades in one place. For younger witches, try Bog Plant or Kitchen Tool, which sound lighter and a little sharper.