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, Deciding there is no time like the present, you sets off for the Sun Tree. She spends the rest of the day sitting at its base and meditating, hoping for a vision, though none arrives.
DM: You lean back into Trinket and the warmth is comforting, as it is getting colder here, especially beneath the earth in a space that, aside from the natural earth insulation, the cold of the night of Whitestone does get pretty biting.
Player: Yeah.
DM: The warmth is welcome. And you think back and you have really no sense of what time it is, you really don't. You have no idea how long you've been in there. It could have been minutes, hours, it's hard to tell.
Player: It's days down here, Trinket. We're imprisoned forever! This fucking title! I thought I wanted it! I thought I did!
DM: Trinket goes, "Really?"
Player: Yeah, I know!
DM: "I don't want to stay here forever."
Player: Well, it's not going to be forever, eventually we'll get sick of it, dear.
DM: "Okay."
Player: And then we'll leave.
DM: And Trinket kind of falls asleep.
Player: I lean back on him and just look up at the roots and say, oh, Pelor! You have something to tell me and I want to hear it! And I'm getting tired of being down here but I swear I'm fine, I'm going to keep concentrating, because I'm committed to you and I'm committed to this Hunt and I'm committed to this title and this city... and your tree, and your leaves, and your trunk, and these roots, and the dirt around me, and all of that. And I'm going to keep thinking.
DM: Okay. As you're thinking about this, you're leaning back into Trinket. The warmth is comforting. Make another wisdom saving throw.
