Journal of Goldload Mistpicks
Its been a long week. On monday, my contact from the human civilization met me on the outskirts of the land. He was my contact who agreed to experimentation for the operation. These guys are difficult to find. I mean, doesn't everyone want to be cured?
Aside from my personal wonder as to why so many humans seem to be fine with their current demeanor, I have recorded the events that took place well.
It started with the patient-surgeon meeting.
" As you know from my letters, I am Goldload Mistpicks, the authority on the cure to humanism. You must be... Urist McDwarf. "
I said. He had changed his name to a quite stereotypical dwarven one. His beard was about seven inches long. Acceptable. He was tall.
I informed him of the risks. The chance of a complete success were slim, but he was happy to contribute to the cause for curing the greater number of humans in this world.
The operation began.
He died in the end, but luckily I gained important experience in the field of operations. I continued to experiment with the corpse until I had poked out any secrets he may have been carrying. I cleaned my instruments.
The operation is simple really. All the bones need to have their middlesections removed, along with, to a lesser extent, fat and muscle. Dwarfs are more burly. Exactly three sections of the spinal cord must be removed to attain the correct amount of a dwarf. One rib (one on each side) should be removed. Its a simple process in writing. Keeping the patient alive is a work in progress.
I use condensed miasma (a nondescript pitchblende-colored liquid in a syringe) for anasthetic. I could use local fauna, but miasma is in much greater supply, and, at this stage, who will live to see the side-effects? He didn't seem too scared of the stuff.
I returned to camp after I had washed all the blood away from my clothes. I did tell them all that I was going for a wash. And I had, and even in the same nearby river that I said I would.
I hope no one sees these meetings. While I am doing the world a favor, almost all others do not approve of my methods or means.