It's a fantasy role-playing game.

DM: You are Vax Vax'ildan, a half-elf rogue . 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: "--of the Clasp of Emon. Excuse the mess, we lost a portion of our territory and are currently caught in mid-adaptation. So, what can I do for you?"
Player: Well, you know who we are.
DM: "And you know who I am, now."
Player: Yes. And you know my spotty track record with the Clasp. But that's all past now. The city's in ruins. You're looking at the right hand of Uriel.
DM: "Uriel is no longer with us. You are a hand to nothing."
Player: Of course. We're looking for what to do next with this city. I don't think any of us wish to be the pets of the beast that's now roosting in the heart of Emon.
DM: (chuckles) "No, that does not do any of us any good. Business has ground to a halt, and we've lost a few good patrons in this unfortunate circumstance. We lost our entire northern tunnel structure as soon as the creature attacked the Cloudtop District."
Player: Well, I'll be honest, our first thought was to flee this city.
DM: "Safer."
Player: But before we make that decision-- yes, it is-- we know that you're the next best thing to a government in Emon.
DM: "Hmm."
Player: And we want to know what's left behind.
DM: "Well, we're seeing to our own. We're going to see how many of our allies still lie within the city. Going to reach out to our friends across Tal'Dorei and see how much of a network we still stand to keep. Then we call in a few debts, reach out to some friends and, ah, we see if we can find some way to supplant this red thing."
Player: Can I insight check?
DM: Go for it.
