It's a fantasy role-playing game.

DM: You are Fjord, a half-orc warlock . You are the member of the famous group of adventurers. Previously, The platform is in the center of an arrow-shaped chamber filled with gold, gems, and bone fragments. A huge mass of blue scales uncurled and revealed itself to be a young blue dragon.
DM: You're not entirely certain where the pile of loot and the creature's body really begins. It's partially submerged into this nest that it's burrowed itself into. Besides from its neck that slowly begins to extend as its head lifts to meet your height, you can't really see the rest of it. It looks you over, its eyes taking in your shape. "Where's the fun in that? Why are you here, little morsel?"
Player: Can I be entirely honest with you?
DM: "Oh, please."
Player: I have recently been putting my hands where they don't belong. This time it sent me to you.
DM: "And what have we learned?"
Player: Probably to look and not touch.
DM: "Good. Tell me, what else have those grubby hands touched? I like to know the flavors to expect."
Player: Well, you know I do have a very salty variety myself. I'll summon the falchion in my hand.
DM: The falchion appears. At which point, the head curls back and one of the arms (loud impact). You hear coins scatter as the impact sends bits of its loot across the stone floor and into the shadows around. "Ah. It's been a while since my food has played back."
