Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25101508-20140805192450/@comment-29458028-20140811034725

(The Black Guard, Sorin and Fulvia still do their stuff. Was the messenger the assassin?)

"How about we cut a deal. I let you experiment on my left arm with your mechanical hands and you give me the right hand?" (Alyssa is right handed, even though she uses her left for magic. Anyway, there's only a right hand available)

"Why in Oblivion would you need the right hand? Don't spoil my finest creation."

"Give it to me and you will know."

"Fine. Deliver on your promise. You get the hand, I get to experiment" said the old man. He obviously thought the deal was one sided, in his favour. The atronach released him, floating over to the body and cutting off the magically preserved hand. Alyssa closed her eyes, saying "Here's my body, don't spoil it!"

"I won't, it is my body as well. Once we get the hand grafted on, we kill the old man? We don't need two hands."

"No, I still need a left hand. He seems to have a mechanical one."

"We can always find one somewhere else. My alteration magic will allow both hands to be the same."

"I am not you. I am a nice person. Also, a mechanical left arm will be better for swords."

"But the magic..."

"Did you ever see me dual cast before?"

"No"

"Then it's settled. Take over, I can't say the incantation correctly."

Alyssa was now the observer, sitting in the subconscious of her mind. She watched as atronach brought the hand over. The atronach cut off a little more of the stump and aligned the hand to Alyssa's arm, pressing them against each other. She heard her alternate persona chant a dark incantation, the same one that she heard when a daedra heart was placed in her chest. All the superfluous flesh seemed to burn off, as the hand attached and resized itself, white light erasing the scar (This is very messed up restoration.)

Soon, Alyssa was back in control. She called flames back to her new hand, firing out a few incinerate spells. Turning to the old man, she said "Well, I let you experiment on my left arm, build whatever dwemer contraption or exoskeleton you want"

"What you just did..." said the old man, pretty impressed by the grafting of the hand (Well, it's magi-science that seems ridiculous, to say the least, not the hard sciences that Jyrskor would be privy to). Now, there was a way to restore the Argonian without going to Markath. He just needed any heart he could find.

Also, time to show off his genius to this insolent girl, to prove her a fool. If he could win her over, his chances of ressurecting the Argonian would go up. He walked over to the female bandit and took off the mechanical left arm, getting down to working on it, resizing it to fit.

(steampunk alert)