Rafflesia

Due to her grandparent's strange mechanical make-up, Rafflesia was born with bizarre poisonous properties. Some say a single lock of her fur is potent enough to kill four fully grown imperials. Not to mention her saliva or tears.

So this may be why Hellebore, one of the children of the renowned warlock Edgar, was drawn to her. The tundra had quickly picked up potion-making, a favorite pastime of his aunt Absinthe. Though while Absinthe was fascinated with the medicinal and healing properties of potions, Hellebore preferred a far more. . . destructive use for the ingredients.

At Rafflesia's relationship with the Alchemist was limited, with him merely stopping by for a quick exchange of hellos and an awkward harvesting process where he'd get her to spit in this bottle or cry into that one, all the while shearing her fur here or there. Rafflesia didn't mind, she had always been one for furthering research and science.

Though through hours upon hours of meetings, they grew closer- often talking into the dead hours of the night after Hellebore had finished his harvests. One particularly starry night, the tundra asked Rafflesia if she'd be interested in moving into his family's cave. Without question, she agreed, and the next day was making her way to the cliff his clan was stationed on.

Since then she's been in charge of