Lina Montaigne's Questionnaire

I live in New Orleans.

Why? I was born and raised there. I'm old money; family established some sort of clothing company, so I'm basically set for life.

I mostly stick around to respect my family's wishes. Someone should watch over the home, and my brother's busy making moves and deals, whatever that means.

I live in the family estate. It's nice. Has all of the tools I need for my... work.

Has a kitchen, a study where I can research, a wine cellar, a gym equipped with a bouldering wall, a garden in the yard where I can grow my own vegetables and herbs, and plenty of empty guest-rooms.

I live with some servants and maids, alongside my butler, Leopold.

I... my brother gave me the title of "Fashion Consultant" and has me offer commentary and criticism on various designs and try on different clothing. I mean, I don't think I'm an expert, but I do prefer substance over style. Certainly helps out for our "outdoor clothing" line. 

He suggested I work with the rest of the team, get to know some people. I know he just wanted to get my mind off of what happened to mom. He's always been work-oriented, got his mind elsewhere.

I, on the other hand, have been preparing. The money he's given me has been put towards acquiring weapons, information, equipment, and training. Bouldering, boxing, kendo, and firearms training are a few of the things I've received coaching in. Urban combat training has also come in handy: choke points, check your corners, etc. Wilderness survival training and wilderness gear are also essential.

The supernatural is a stain, a corruption on humanity. If it were up to me, they'd be dead.

They took my mother from me 5 years ago, and they nearly took my brother as well. I had to watch as she, kicking and screaming, was dragged out of the car and pulled into the air. Higher and higher. It got to the point that her anguished cries were but a faint echo in the distance. It took a moment, but when I got out of the car, I felt... rain? No, it was blood, falling from the sky. When I looked up, all I could see was the faint glint of what looked like a star. I gazed for a bit longer, and noticed that more stars appeared adjacent to the original, forming a curve. A smile. A toothy smile. In an instant, they disappeared, and the night grew dark as the creature... flew through it? It's body was gargantuan enough to obscure the moon as it passed by it.

That night, I made an oath.

Every.

Monster.

Pays.

This is my mission.

This is my purpose in life.

I will not rest.

Until I am dead, I will slaughter every last one of them.

The death of my mother gravely hurt my father, which forced him to pass the family business onto me. I wanted no part in leading it, much to his dismay, so my brother took up the mantle.

Part of me feels that he did it for my sake. I wouldn't say that he supports my mission, but maybe he feels like he's doing me a favour by giving me time to grieve.

Don't worry, Lawrence. I am grieving.

There is an overwhelming depression within me, one that keeps me from moving on from that night. I must savour every detail if I'm able to find this behemoth.

There is a burning hatred as well, one that will not let me rest until I am able to purge this world of the beasts that roam it.

There is no acceptance.

Leopold von Rostock is the butler of our manor, managing household affairs as well as aiding us in scheduling our personal affairs. He's been around ever since I was still a child and says that I still act like one. Jerk.

The maids and servants claim that he's ex-Special Forces, or at least the German equivalent of it. I asked him about it a while back and wanted to know if he could teach me some things, such as weapons handling and tactics. He gave me some pointers, but he wanted me to assure him that I wouldn't end up doing anything reckless. I told him I wouldn't do anything he wouldn't do. That was apparently enough to appease him.

My brother, Markus Montaigne, is a few years older than I am and is the CEO of our family's fashion brand. He's always busy and coordinating meetings with important people. I couldn't care less about what's going on there, but he comes back to the manor occasionally. Says it's to check up on me and catch up. He never stays for longer than a couple of days at a time, during which he crashes in one of the guest rooms and stays locked inside while doing work.

My father, Lawrence Montaigne, has been sickly and frail ever since that night. "Weak heart," the doctor mentioned. Something about blood pressure not being right. I don't know. He always doted on me and said that he saw the talent in my sketches and wanted me to lead the company. I thought it was a stupid idea to have me manage a business of that scale based on a couple of half-baked drawings, so I let my more capable brother take the lead. He was bitter upon finding out about the whole ordeal, but seems to be grateful and... almost remorseful for being upset when he found out I wanted him to lead.