Item Name: Cerebus 953 Class A. Item code 40014. Subject: J
Item type: An Alchemic arm
How it was made: An alchemic arm can be made using various methods, each one dependent on the arm's purpose. It is quite simply to create a whole new arm for a person, but James' Alchemic Arm is very different. It was made as a container for souls. Souls are considered to be the Gold Standard in Alchemy. A soul can be deconstructed and reconstructed into anything, in a sense. It also illegal to utilize souls in Alchemic experiments.
Of course, scientists do not usually really care about what is legal.
The Cerebus 953 is the result of Alan Wake's constant work on the Philosipher's Stone. Despite owning one himself, Mr. Wake does not truly understand the complexities of the Stone and the Soul. In order to experiment further, The Head of Alchemy utilized the souls of prisoners from Azkaban, with permission. Using those souls, he created the alchemic arm. It bears the appearance of a bronze, organic wood, that moves alot like a real arm.
How you came into contact with it: It was given to James because it bore no use in a branch with little to no funding. And James needed an arm. Alan could only oblige.
Magical abilities:
Good:
-Can mutate with clear alchemic patterns. Removes need to use alchemic circle as long as the circle is clear in the users head.
-Hand functions as a grappling hook. Good for reaching that cookie jar your uncle hides on the top shelf.
Bad:
-Requires a lot of alchemic expertise in order to be used. If used improperly, it could alchemize the person's actual body. Alchemizing a body is one of the taboos of Alchemy, and involves the destruction of the particles of a human body.
-Being connected to so many different souls can cause one lose their sanity. Scratch that- James' mind has been melding with the minds of murderers since the day he received the arm. He may keep some shred of himself, but soon he may be sharing memories with Azkaban's finest. Or should I say worst?
-The alchemic arm can control itself. It's a VERY annoying procedure- the arm will utilize everything it has to protect itself, and it's carrier.
-The energy used by the alchemic arm comes from the host. In other words, whatever calories James will gain will be used to move the arm. The exchange rate causes him to eat A LOT.
-The arm has it's own intents and purposes. It will attempt to absorb as many souls as possible after it has actually killed people.
Roleplay sample: "Hey James. Let's play a game."
"Ok, what?"
"Guess how old I am?"
"I dunno. 20?"
"Nope... guess again..."
Ace woke up on his seventh birthday, in the mood for some Ice Cream. He got out of his bed, his pajamas loosely shaking with each footstep. The arm was weighing him down again. He grunted as he pulled at his right arm, his gait lurching with each step. He stumbled and fell, groaning as he pushed himself onto his two feet. He looked around to see if he'd woken up after Alan made breakfast. According to the clock he had alchemized himself (first experiment), it was 6:02 AM. In reality, it was probably 7:34. The time was off by a good hour and a half. James made a mental note to himself- fix the darn clock. He stumbled to the ground again. Ace grumbled. Alan was not awake, and breakfast wasn't even ready. There was nothing waiting beyond the door. So, James sat back on his rear, and rested the heavy arm on his lap.
He decided to fix his clock first. He raised arm using his real arm, and aimed at the watch. His aim was pretty bad, but he missed with the first three shots regardless. His alchemic hand finally wrapped itself around the clock, pulling it off the table and down on the ground in front of him. It clattered as James placed his real palm on his fake palm. Now he need the image of the alchemic circle he needed. He had trouble with focusing.
How old am I?
But he calculated the perfect circle for the job. He quickly clapped his hand (though lifting the alchemic arm left him haggard and dog-tired) and planted them firmly on the wooden floor.
The alchemy was almost instantaneous, but before Ace's eyes, the clock was deformed and reformed in a slow, agonizing, calculated parts. The clock had been reformed, and was ticking away the time.
James couldn't be more tired.
Alan knocked on Ace's door at nine. Hearing no response, he cracked the door open. The boy was asleep on the ground, wearing his over-sized pajamas. Beside him was a clock. Alan did not bother boy, but knelt down and picked up the clock. Beneath it, the ground was indented, as if suggesting that the wood had been used to...
Alan looked at the clock. It read 10:32. Pm. He sighed. "And just when I finally fixed it too..." He looked down once more at the boy, sleeping peacefully. He shook his hand and clapped his own two hands. The clock in his hands alchemized. Only this time, he added an adjustment key to the back.
"Come on Ace, tell me my age."
"I don't know..."
"Really now? That's dissappointing. You were always so... promising."
"Then how old are you?"
"Haven't you guessed yet? Today I'm..."
by 
