It's a fantasy role-playing game.

DM: You are Percival de Rolo, a human gunslinger . You are the member of the famous group of adventurers. Previously, After a faithful re-meeting with the parents of Vex and Vax, discussions were had, hats were attempted to be stolen  from  the leader of the city —and successfully done so. The other half of agreements were... pseudo-achieved, and they made their way northward through the Evershifting Grasses to the outskirts of the Moonbrush, a heavy, heavy forested wood that will lead them to their destination after that, which is the Gilded Run, a series of rivers that wrap around their final destination, the Shademurk Bog, where apparently Fenthras exists.
DM: Okay, gotcha. Okay, so you take the shot, the blast echoing throughout the trees and the treeline. You watch as the pixie takes the slug and actually gets thrown to the ground and then flutters back up, barely.
Player: Flutters back up, barely?
DM: Yeah. It was undamaged before.
Player: Nothing fancy, just hitting it again.
DM: All right.
Player: That's a 23.
DM: That'll hit. Roll damage.
Player: That's better. 24 points of damage.
DM: 24 points of damage. You hear this horrible, high pitched (yelps) as the light is scattered by a burst of what looks like a tiny blood spray, and dust and smoke.
