One-Sided Conflict

(cruel, crush, feet, butt)

Marcine grimaced at the sight of the 'impressive' force before her. An entire regiment numbering around five thousand or so soldiers all gathered and shouting in a, rather forced, jingoistic fervour. She was sent alone by her order, it was determined that as the newest she'd begin with something easy, and what could be easier than besting an army of half-inch tall people? They waved their banners and blew their trumpets in the shade she hid them in, but Marcine could see that on their tiny little faces they were all scared to death of the lone blonde knight.

She snapped out of her moral dilemma and cleared her throat loudly, stiffening her back and silencing the crowd. "Soldiers of... uhm..." in her panic she had forgotten the name of their tiny kingdom, "Your nation... I am Marcine of the order of the Blue Whale Knights and I have been sent to best you in the honourable field of battle!" Marcine added a verbal flourish to her sentence, she wasn't completely sure why, perhaps to make her first time impressionable. "However, it is clear that your army is quite, uhm, 'inadequate' at the current time, if you choose to surrender then no blood will need to be shed this day. I swear on my honour."

The knightess really hoped they surrendered, she didn't want to fight them, she didn't even know how. Was she supposed to use her sword? Or... trod on them? Something else?

The army remained silent for some time, the officers no doubt considering their options. Awkwardly the young girl smiled and shuffled in her metal boots. The unpleasant signal of a brass trumpet and the cries of thousands of tiny men barely louder than a normal speaking voice. She sighed and unsheathed her blade, trying to figure out how to actually attack them.

Fearlessly the tiny soldiers rushed at the colossus, her imposing boots stood over one hundred feet tall; their tallest buildings could barely reach her knees... But spurred by patriotism surely they could best her and save their nation...

The front lines of the regiment were barely five feet ahead of the girl, not even as tall as herself, but they were still taking a rather long time to reach her. After a painfully awkward minute they were in the range of barely a foot, and she finally took action and plunged the tip of her sword into the Earth, catching a few under it and crushing them unceremoniously. "Oh, sorry..." she replied out loud, but nevertheless continued dragging the blade to the side in a stroke, as she was taught. She had successfully broken their lines and formed a large trench the corpses of those crushed tumbled into... and formed an insurmountable gash through which they couldn't pass. "Oh, umm..." Marcine felt totally dreadful about this whole thing, the stupid buggers should have surrendered. She didn't become a knight to do things like this. A few hundred of the diminutive swordsman had made it over and were still en route, albeit with less enthusiasm, to her firmly planted feet. "Just a moment please!" she addressed them, and for a reason not even they understood they obeyed and halted. She slid her large metal-clad foot over to the trench and nudged the soil back in, unfortunately collecting a few of the warriors as she did. But she did a good job of repairing the the ridge she had formed. "Right, now you can continue."

After a moment of deliberation and shock they resumed their charge. So slicing gashes in their formation was a little too unfair, she'd need to try something else. The most honourable thing to do would be to treat them with respect; that'd mean she'd need to face them one-on-one. Looking to the ground around her feet they were pouring around and hopelessly hacking away at her boots. Hidden in the shadow her immense form created, Marcine was thankful she wasn't wearing a skirt for them to peek up through. She scanned the crowd until settling on a random relatively isolated lad some two feet ahead. Marcine placed the tip of the sword directly ahead of him, causing the poor thing to almost impale himself and tumble back in fear. She again cringed as the young man scrambled to get his sword and held it in both hands, looking along the shining steel sabre some several hundred feet in length. It was awkward to hold her sword like this but it seemed the only way to achieve an 'equal' fight. With a slight flick of her wrist she collected his sword... and accidentally bisected the man. "SORRY!" she shouted.

This was horrible.

The soldiers endlessly whacked at her boots, doing absolutely nothing but make scratches only they could see; why didn't they give up? What foolish little things they were to even bother continuing. Nothing she could do would make this fair, and they weren't stopping. She couldn't leave them either or she'd be booted from the order she worked so hard to join for deserting. She might as well get this over with... "Uhmm... One last chance to surrender!" she ordered in a wavering tone; the vague hope of retaining her honour.

They continued.

Sighing, the blonde knight lifted up her right foot, knocking back the tiny men hacking at it. She moved it forwards and hovered it over a large contingent. Clumps of dirt rained on them, totally engulfed in the shadow of a mere boot. They tried to scramble away with knocking knees, flicking their eyes to the cold sole and the apologetic blue eyes much further up. Marcine took it slow, in her head she was giving them a chance to run away but really it seemed she was toying with them. As soon as her foot touched the crowd she rested her entire weight on it to deliver a quick crunch; 'I'm really sorry' was plainly visible on her face, directed at the surrounding comrades. She lifted her foot and cringed at her footprint... Not a pleasant sight at all.

"C-could you stop, please?"

They didn't stop, the complete idiots. Marcine was enraged, such a callous loss of life because they just wouldn't surrender! She stomped down again more forcefully, sending a booming wave of pressure throughout the ground and knocking over any soldiers in proximity. Again she looked down, seeing if they changed their mind. They hadn't. She sighed, there were several square feet of tiny soldiers ahead of her, and that was a lot of stepping.

The knight trod forward daintily, as if walking on eggshells. Despite the careful walking she crushed more and more with each step;  leaving bloody footprints in the field. Poor little things... A wide gash was cut through the scattering regiment, several hundred dead? A thousand? It was a lot in any case, but how many more? She was becoming incr- OUCH!

Roderick thought he had finally gotten her. Always the expert climber her had shuffled up the steel scales of her hundred foot high boot as she walked, finally he could do something and take down the giant! He was salivating at the thought of women throwing themselves at Roderick the Giant Slayer. For this prize he'd subject himself to the muggy atmosphere of her boot and slither down her smooth skin, knocked around like a pebble as she squished comrades with her behemoth appendages. He endured the rapid changes in acceleration to shuffle right between her constantly shifting toes. She was too distracted with her efforts to notice him, and was taken completely unaware when he plunged his sword directly into the sensitive gap of her big and second toe.

Marcine kicked her right foot forward in pain and let out an whimper; a little sting in a sensitive region. Unfortunately her kick was a little fast and sent her off balance. With a high-pitched thunderous shriek she tumbled back.

The thundercloud of her gigantic cloth-covered rump darkened the sky for the miniature soldiers, they shouted and ran but for many it was too late. Even the soft muscle and fat of her youthful behind was deadly at her size, and a great number were totally flattened as she wiggled her hips and ground in her startled state.

She hurriedly pulled off her boot and tossed it aside, checking the area of the bug-bite. Between her muggy digits a solitary soldier stood, looking like she had walked in on him strangling a rooster to death. With her middle finger cocked she sent him flying, the single blow sending him off to the horizon. She sighed, and wiggled her toes, trying to recover from the injury... Again she let out a shriek and stood up, brushing the remnants of people from her derriere. "Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry!" she shouted, setting her now bare foot down and accidentally squishing a few more. "Eek! Sorry!" she cringed at the feeling of people under her foot flesh.

It seemed her meteor strike had successfully broken their ranks however, and they were finally scattering like cockroaches in the light. Marcine sulked in the quickly depleting battlefield... Poor little guys... When they were an adequate distance away she'd walk back, just to make sure no more had to die.

---

"So, Marcine, how was your first mission?" asked Cordon Veronica, Marcine's commanding officer.

"...It was... a success... I suppose," she admitted, mumbling the last part.

"Bugs didn't give you too much trouble, did they? Only a few minutes before they scuttled off?"

"Yes..."

"Very good, I'm sure you'll do the order proud." Veronica painted a cruel smile on her face, although the cruelty was perhaps unintentional.

Marcine turned to leave before she let her true feelings spill out. She just wanted to put this whole scenario behind her.

"Oh, Marcine, one thing."

"Y-yes?"

"Please wipe your boots before entering the halls."