It's a fantasy role-playing game.

DM: You are Scanlan Shorthalt, a gnome bard . You are the member of the famous group of adventurers. Previously, The bolt starts at its tail, works its way up its spine, slowly and painfully torturing it as it courses up its evil body with an  S  burned into its torso. One of the dwarf guards congratulates you.
DM: The dust settles, the adrenaline still pumping in your system, Scanlan. All the rest of the dwarves begin stepping down, putting their crossbows down, looking down at the little gnome that created a storm from its hands. One of them pats him on the shoulder and goes, "Well done."
Player: Thank you. Just promise me you'll that tell Pike about this.
DM: "Okay?"
Player: Because it was really cool, right?
DM: "That was pretty cool."
Player: Okay, good.
DM: All the dwarves look into the tunnel that it came from and the one that you spoke to earlier goes, "So that's the kind of thing that's been coming out of there."
