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, From the sidelines, Scanlan yells inspiration at you and Cutting Words at Kern. Keyleth attempts to heal you from a distance, but gets caught by a nearby Bastion.
DM: Vax stands behind you and is like, "Yes, I'll stand behind your bet," and keeps his gold to himself. At this point, the crowd separates. This tension's mounting, and everyone's eyes are on Kern as he steps up to the edge of the Crucible. You now notice the dark figure. The noonday sun is now high in the sky, and you can see, by the little bit of the shadowed outline of Kern, muscle-bound, looming over the edge of the Crucible. You hear a voice call down to you, low and gravelly and familiar. "You! Did you like the gift I sent you?"
Player: I reach into my belt and I pull out his upper lip, and I give it a smell and I say, I've enjoyed it very much. I've come to collect the rest. And I fling it into the pit.
DM: It hits the ground. "You're not wearing the medal. A shame, really. I thought you'd be more proud of your status." (whoosh, thud). He leaps down into the pit right before you, this grin on his face. As everyone's gathering around, people are now swarming the bookie, handing gold left and right, and he's making notes in his little ledger out of his pocket. People are beginning to gather around and crush against the outsides of the Crucible with some people being careful, almost being pushed in. At this point in time, now, Kern's glaring at you and you guys are slowly circling each other. (grunts) "You've been training, I see. Good. So have I!" He goes and takes his wine skin, pops off the top--
Player: Hold! Surely a man of your stature would honor me by sharing a drink before this battle.
DM: He takes (glugging) and throws you the wineskin.
Player: How much is left in there?
DM: About a third. You're clutching it in your hand, and he's staring at you intently.
