The Events of the 23rd of Moonstone, 1075
Lugnut had to back off, covering his face with both hands from the torrent of water. The small pump-house at the base of the cliff was bursting at the seams. The basalt walls, built by some of the greatest Dwarven hands for hundreds of miles, was straining, crying as water spurted and seeped through the cracks in the mortar. He turned to the growing assembly and shrugged.
"I can't do it, I can't get in. The doors blocked off, the pump-house is overflowing... we're going to dry the creek soon."
Rice frowned and paced the sand. His mind raced, even as a dozen voices chattered around him; soldiers, miners, planters, even Kuli had come down, his lined, kindly face twisted up in horror at the loss. Water, in this land, was worth more than gold - to potentially drain the river, to pull the oasis from the fort... it was devastating.
"We just have to let it run it's course" Lugnut said, his voice heavy with regret. "We can't fight the torrent; can't stop the flood."
"Rrr~! Be done with it..." came a barely audible growl from the back of the crowd.
A moment later, a jangle and a much louder, "Hold this."
Dojango frowned, clutching a bag of tools to his chest as Akroma mounted the small rise. Already he was soaked to the knees, water pouring from the top of the pump housing. His jaw set, the carver stripped to his pants, clapped his hands above his head, and vanished into the raging water with an awkward dive.
Moments passed - the collective holding their breath. Dojango paced, his brows knit in a tight line of worry, fingers clutching at the catleather tool bags.
A shrill, sharp grinding, and a final dull snap - something felt through the earth instead of heard. The frothing slowed. The water stopped pouring out. Soon, it stood still, harshly reflecting the noon sun.
***
"Be done with it," Dojango said bitterly. He palmed at his eyes, trying to stem the flow of tears as they streaked down dusty cheeks. "Just be done with it."
"You don't wish to say anything?" Kuli asked quietly. "Nothing else?"
"There's nothing else to say," Dojango managed to choke out. "This damn place strips out everything you love... it takes your money, your health, your soul... it takes your friends. Just... this is done, it's all done, it's just done."
Kuli nodded, and gave the small bell in his hand a chime. Dozens of Dwarves bowed their heads silently before they filed in pairs through the dimly lit halls. In short order, Dojango was left alone, standing before the carved statue of his friend. He stared at it for what felt like hours, willing the stone to move, to step forward, to do anything. But it stayed steady, a monument that would last for eternity if the Gods willed it. Unlike the poor shell entombed behind it, bent and broken midst the sodden wooden wreckage.
Tasting the tears in his beard, Dojango lifted shaky hands to hang the toolbags from the statues shoulders. "I'm sorry you couldn't make it out alive, friend... I'm ju-... I'm sorry..."
He left, quickly, feeling as if the weight of the fortress was pressing in on his shoulders.