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, The party then retrieved their first artifact and then made their way towards the Pyrah tribe of the Ashari druids, the fire guardians of the gate to the Elemental Plane of Fire, which apparently Thordak, the Cinder King—the great red dragon that helms the Chroma Conclave that has torn through all of the civilization of Tal'Dorei —emerged from.  The party went there, found a surviving faction of the Pyrah tribe including Cerkonos, their headmaster, as well as a few members of Keyleth's tribe, the Air Ashari, and her father.
DM: An ever-spinning top on the banister. At this point, Grog, you can see that the servant you had sent off comes up with a very large, somewhat spectral flagon, that upon handing it to you, turns into a solid metallic form, and inside--
Player: Holy shit.
DM: -- a very, very finely chilled, very nice-smelling wine.
Player: I put my hand up for a high-five.
DM: It makes contact.
Player: It does?
DM: A little cushy, but it does make contact, yes.
