Now then, Buttery-smooth, we're in Ponyville. Except we're not in Ponyville. But we are in Ponyville, in a way. Just not the Ponyville you think you know.
"What."
Also, I've forgotten nearly everything about this story after not even touching it for like three or four months.
"What." x2
Wow, that's a new combo! But either way, let's focus on the topic at hand... er, hoof. Anyways, Butter Knife stumbled into not-Ponyville, smelly and covered in her own vomit.
"Wait, since when did that happ--"
Shhhhh... this world is based around some things that happened in a D&D session. Just play along for the readers.
"Ugh. Fine."
Flying Toaster walked past a couple of shops. There was a bar too, but there was a hotel inside the bar, and a bar inside the hotel, and a hotel inside the bar, and a small shrine to table legs inside the bar. The next building was an armory. They only have shoes in stock at the moment, though.
"Kill. Eat. Consume."
Oh, are you hungry?
"Y̵̷̢̖͖͍̻̞͎͉͚͕̻̙̹͖̻̬̰͓̬͐͗͌̅ͯ̐͠e̵̡̯̲̖̗͇̪̠͇̝͎̮̪͇̭̠̽ͫ̑͌ͪ̈́̓͛̄̃͋̈̀ͫ̚̚͘͟͢ͅs̨͓̭͔͕̤̮̬̱̞̤͓͕̮͖͛̉͛ͪ͒̚͝.̷͉̰͍̙͓̬̫̘̳̘̜̖̞̮̣͖̤̙ͣ̌̉̌̽͠"
"I believe not-Sugarcube Corner should be open at the moment."
"Flesh," Murder Hobo smacked her lips, "I desire flesh to sate my appetite."
Peaches!
"Hu--"
Peaches began to rain down from above for absolutely no reason. Even Discord had no idea where they came from. Peach upon peach battered down on Cling Clang's thick skull, some even spearing on her edgyness, too.
Either way, there's the flesh you want. Peach flesh!
"Grr."
Don't make me bring out the magical narration transformations, young lady!"
"One of these days, I'll call OCPS on you."
And they'll laugh along with me while I send you adventuring into a dungeon requiring you to fling wolves into specific areas of a maze in a very-real game of minesweeper in order to get to the other side.
"What."
What? Oh, I mean, zap!
Butter Knife's eyes shrunk to pinpricks. Did she turn into a puny dog again? Would she once more be assaulted by a torrential flood of tiny children? Nope. All the narrator did was say zap, after all.
Shaking her head, Cranky Shanky trudged off towards the armory.
"What do you have?" she grumbled, heaving a bag of bits out of nowhere onto the counter, "GImme your best armor."
"I'm sorry, but all we have are shoes."
Told ya.
Butter Knife ignored the narrator (unfortunately) and pressed onward, narrowing her eyes. "What shoes do you have?"
"We've got steel-toed shoes, high heels, a wedding gown, some galoshes, and leather dress shoes," The shopkeeper leaned closer to Squinty Glare. "Don't tell the cows where that last one came from."
"Forget about the buckin' cows," I'm-running-out-of-funny-things-to-use-as-your-nickname spat, "Why do you have a wedding gown in stock? I thought you only had shoes!"
"It was a misdelivery. We wanted some something that could help take down even the fiercest of beasts, but instead we were delivered a beautiful gown perfect for any occasion!"
"Hey narrator guy, what's the stats on all this armor if this is gonna play out like a D&D session?"
First of all, this is only D&D-inspired. Things are only loosely set in stone. Second,I'm just gonna say right away that you'll want the gown.
"WHY?!"
Because Cadance is emitting a threatening aura right behind me as I am forced to potentially create some kind of romantic subplot for the sake of shipping TOASTER STRUDELS!
"That doesn't even make sense!"
None of this is supposed to make sense, sweetie. Also, shopkeep dude there is about to call up Twilight Sporkle to haul you away to the funny clowntown dungeon.
"What."
I'd say just leave the bits and scram with the dress. You're gonna be sacked in a moment's time.
"Well finally you give me some good advi--"
Thousand-degree Knife's words were cut off as she was sacked in a moment's time.