It's a fantasy role-playing game.

DM: You are Vex Vex'ahlia, a half-elf ranger . You are the member of the famous group of adventurers. Previously, The party then retrieved their first artifact and then made their way towards the Pyrah tribe of the Ashari druids, the fire guardians of the gate to the Elemental Plane of Fire, which apparently Thordak, the Cinder King—the great red dragon that helms the Chroma Conclave that has torn through all of the civilization of Tal'Dorei —emerged from.  The party went there, found a surviving faction of the Pyrah tribe including Cerkonos, their headmaster, as well as a few members of Keyleth's tribe, the Air Ashari, and her father.
DM: You can see there's some heavy bruising on his face and part of his cheek is swollen. He goes, "It would be hard around these parts to find someone who likes a dragon, let alone that one."
Player: Good.
DM: "Not the worst of the worries right now, though."
Player: What's the worst?
DM: "The ones who work for him."
Player: Right. So you have to provide food for everybody living in the city? Is that how that goes?
DM: "Every one of them. Otherwise they just go ahead and steal from whoever's nearby. Isn't a caravan that's made their way past Westruun in the past week."
Player: Well, here's the thing. We're trying to help you. We're trying to find a way to (clicking) (choking) kill the fucks. You get me? Ill-kay the agons-dray.
DM: Drops the fruit he has in his hand. "Please! Please help us, please!"
Player: Act natural! Keep picking, keep picking, keep picking! We want to help you. We really, really, really want to help you.
DM: "They have my daughter."
