It's a fantasy role-playing game.

DM: You are Percival de Rolo, a human gunslinger . You are the member of the famous group of adventurers. Previously,  Some of them splintered off to try and acquire the goods that were taken from his store, however they apparently had already been stolen from the location they were being stored in, or been delivered already, they're uncertain as to what became of them. But they get the sense that it was probably best that they chose Gilmore over the gold, at first glance.
DM: Basically. You find your way to Cassandra again. She's waiting outside of the room. "I hope he's been helpful, brother"
Player: No, he wasn't helpful, but it was very helpful the way he wasn't helpful.
DM: "Yes."
Player: It's a strange, strange--
DM: "He's a very strange man."
Player: Everything's going to be all right.
DM: "I hope so."
Player: Thank you. I will return very soon. We will, again with your permission, hopefully be using Whitestone as a place to regroup and prepare ourselves.
DM: "Is there worry that these dragons might come here?"
Player: Yes.
DM: "How will we stop them?"
Player: You'll hide. I have thoughts, perhaps of a weapon. I don't know. But we're going to find a way to stop them.
DM: "We have to."
