Victorious!

With a final, desperate roar, I swung my hammer with every ounce of strength I had left, sending the last remaining murloc skittering across the slick mud and back into the murky river with a wet *splash*.

Silence returned to the riverbank, save for the gentle lapping of water against the docks, the pungent smell of aquatic entrails, and my own ragged, breathless wheezing.

I collapsed backward onto a dry wooden crate, my legs shaking like leaf sprigs in a gale and my chest heaving. The blinding golden aura Clara had cast on me finally flickered out, leaving me caked in river slime, mud, and unmentionable fish residue.

“Huzzah! Victory for the Light!” Sister Clara proclaimed enthusiastically, dusting off her pristine white robes which, infuriatingly, did not have a single speck of dirt on them. She closed her heavy holy book with a crisp *thud*. “You fought with the true vigor of a paladin, Branford! A most triumphant display of holy justice!”
“I am... covered in fish guts, Clara,” I rasped, staring blankly up at the sky while trying to catch my breath. “I think one of them bit through my knee pad.”

Over near the treeline, Gerald casually stood up from his seat, tucked his mug under his arm, and strolled over. He looked down at my thoroughly battered, mud-soaked form and gave a slow, unenthusiastic nod of approval.

“Not bad, paladin,” Gerald said, his raspy voice dripping with low-effort irony. “Your tactical strategy of ‘becoming a giant glowing target and getting beaten up while I drink tea’ worked surprisingly well. We should write that one down.”
“I hate both of you,” I groaned, closing my eyes and letting my head drop back against the crate, far too exhausted to even attempt standing up.