It's a fantasy role-playing game.

DM: You are Grog Strongjaw, a goliath barbarian . You are the member of the famous group of adventurers. Previously, Suddenly, Aldor reacts from the back of the room, alarmed and ready to run in the event that she is present. Vanessa tells him that it is okay, Lyra is currently away helping her uncle, Randi.
DM: You don't know how deep it is, but it's, it's not, it's hard sand, it's packed, so you just kind of--
Player: Yeah, but I meant the depression, is it like a couple feet?
DM: Right, the depression's like an inch.
Player: Okay, cool.
DM: Oh, you mean the depression into the actual ground?
Player: Yeah.
DM: About four feet.
Player: Oh, shit. Yeah. So.
DM: So you vault into it in a bound.
Player: Does he move at all?
DM: No. He's still facing a little bit away from you in the far corner.
Player: I put my fist in my hand and I bow slightly. Does he move at all?
DM: The silence is broken immediately by a low, rumbling voice that seems to have no particular source in the vicinity where you stand. It says, "You come because your lands now harbor a terrible conflagration. How do you think Groon can assist?" Still facing away from you.
