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,  Some of them splintered off to try and acquire the goods that were taken from his store, however they apparently had already been stolen from the location they were being stored in, or been delivered already, they're uncertain as to what became of them. But they get the sense that it was probably best that they chose Gilmore over the gold, at first glance.
DM: "I hope so. We'll do what we can in the meantime to see to your refugees and hopefully try and prepare ourselves."
Player: There will be a few more through, possibly tomorrow, with word.
DM: "All right. We'll be prepared. Thank you." She reaches out and puts her hand on yours, again, and looks you sternly in the face and goes, "Be careful."
Player: I will.
DM: "You're all I have left."
Player: And Cassandra, I'm proud of you. You're doing very well here.
DM: "There's still a ways to go, brother."
Player: We'll get there.
DM: She hands you the gatestone. And with that, there's a slight popping sound as you're in a very soft bit of bluish-purple light. Your body slowly subsides and fades into nothing before it (poof) vanishes out of existence. As you guys are back at the keep, suddenly, who has the gatestone? As you're holding it, it begins to shake in your hand and give off a warm light.
