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: "I've seen him around. Haven't really... I talked to him once. I'll level with you. Went to him for a little training after our first fight."
Player: Yeah.
DM: "Um. Says I'm a little too angry to pursue his path."
Player: Angry?
DM: "I got a lot of pent-up rage the way I was raised."
Player: Family issues? Tell me about it.
DM: "Tell me about it. (chuckles) Well, half my folks are bloodthirsty, wandering barbarians in the Northern Wastes."
Player: No way!
DM: "Yeah. What, you think being a half-orc's great? No! It's bullshit!"
Player: I know! You think goliath is any better? It's the same fucking thing!
DM: "At least you're made for this weather! It's cold out here!"
Player: That's true, it is fucking cold out here.
DM: "Yeah, it is."
Player: I can only imagine. I'm really sorry I took your lip off, by the way.
DM: "Sorry I took yours off, too."
Player: That's true. Mine healed better.
DM: "Yeah."
Player: Hey, so. When you trained with him, because you were doing all that yoga pilates stuff. Did it help you out?
DM: "Well, obviously not, really."
Player: Right. What did he ask in exchange for the tutorial?
DM: "He didn't ask for any pay. He--"
