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: "This is very disconcerting news. I will do what I can. Unfortunately, I'd have to get back to the Cobalt Reserve. That's where most of my research is completed."
Player: That's Westruun?
DM: "Let me see. Jeckt--" And he snaps his fingers, and you can see his manservant, Jeckt, who you've met before, slicked-back darkish red hair, mustache, very prim and proper-type manservant, well-dressed, steps out of the shadows. "Yes, my lord? If you would be so kind, prepare me for travel, pack up this--"
Player: Westruun is no more, sir.
DM: "Well, that's really frustrating!"
Player: Yes.
DM: "Really."
Player: Extremely aggravating.
DM: "Yes. I am unhappy with this circumstance! How am I supposed to do my research without a place to do my research?!"
Player: Well, we hope that you will find our winters here quite solitary, and convenient on that level. Things are looking grim.
DM: "Well, you can say that again."
