It was a calm and sunny day in November, though the days were slowly getting colder. The people of Southacre were working busily, preparing for the annual harvest festival. Granted, there was only a festival when the harvest was plentiful enough. But here, that had been the case for the past 30 years. What was the cause, you ask? Well, it was the same one as why there were rhythmic quakes getting stronger and stronger, as well as the booming yet sweet tone filling the sky for miles around.
The townspeople looked towards the southwest and there she was in all her gigantic beauty, heading in their direction. As always, the first thing that caught their eyes were her long, reddish orange locks, almost like a shade of twilight, reaching down to the small of her back, just above her hips. Next were her gentle, large blue eyes seemingly capable of swooning most people if she wanted to. Her long, pointy ears revealed her Elven heritage, for she was a Half-Elf. As always, she was clad in an outfit befitting a "countryside woman", a long purple dress falling down to her lower shins, only a bit above her ankles. A slightly shorter brown 'apron' was sown into the front of the dress, showcasing she was a hard worker of manual labour. Her feet were clad in a pair of sturdy brown boots that had seen years of usage, but were still in good condition due to the quality of the leather. A sturdy brown belt fit around her waist, a couple pouches hanging from it, as well as a filled waterskin. Her torso was clad in white blouse with small blue patterns lining the edge of her short sleeves, which only reached a little upwards of her elbows. The blouse was... admittedly a tad tight around the chest, but not so much it was distracting. From that far away, they could still see the hint of cleavage her top showed, given it was on the top of her.... impressive bosom. A full, woven basket hung from right shoulder, secure between her arms and her torso. What was in it wasn't entirely clear from the villagers's perspective. Though her legs were hidden behind her boots and dress, her arms were clearly fairly toned. After all, she was a farmgirl that didn't shy away from the manual labour. Oh, and she stood a towering 700 feet tall. For you see, she wasn't just a Half-Elf, she was Half-Eshmer... Eshmer being the word for the gigantic female Elves from the Southeastern parts of the continent....
Mashelle Ciphë was her full name, though people rarely used her last name. And she was the saving grace of Southacre's agriculture. Due to her Half-Elven nature, she looked a lot younger than she actually was, appearing around 26 while actually being 43. Not as extreme as a true elf who would look the same age at 400 years old, but still remarkable. Needless to say, Mashelle is the reason harvests are so bountiful. Her great size comes with great strength and stamina, meaning she can cultivate and harvest vast amounts of crops with ease. Of course, she still needs some help from the local villagers to help out with the more.... precise actions. And being the daughter of a local farmer from Southacre, she has plenty of incentive to help them out. That, and she was just really, really nice.
It only took a few minutes for Mashelle to cross the distance from the edge of the horizon to only a hundred meters from the edge of the town. Even after she stopped walking, it took a few moments for the last quakes to subside. It was quite the sight, given most buildings barely rose as high as her ankles The tallest thing being the guardtowers which only came a little over halfway up her shins. A happy smile was on her lips, having stopped her beautiful humming to speak up.
"Good evening little ones, how are the preparations coming along? I brought some of my own food. Wouldn't be fair if I used your harvest for my feastmeal, would it? I'd eat a lot of it and barely be filled.~" Her voice was loud and booming due to her sheer size, yet somehow retained a gentle and sweet undertone that made it incredibly pleasant to listen to.
Quickly the townsfolk came to greet their gigantic friend, telling her everything was going along great, with many shouting things like "Happy harvest Mashelle" and "We couldn't do this without you Mashelle!". The Half-Elf's smile only widened at the compliments.
"Well that's great! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll get settled against my "seat" and we can get started with the feast.~" she cooed sweetly before moving around the edge of town to her designated seat.
Seat being a loose term... given it was actually just a roughly 500 foot tall artificial hill she had created years ago so she had something to rest her back against when visiting. Given that the surrounding area were flat plains, it did stick out a lot, though not as much as the 700 foot tall redheaded giantess. The edge of the hill stood roughly 120 meters away from the edge of the town, allowing Mashelle plenty of legspace without having to worry about accidentally brushing her boots against any buildings....and subsequently destroying them. The area of town closed to the hill was the locals considered the "festive plaza", which had previously been in the center of Southacre. But they had it moved so they could properly enjoy the festivities together with their gigantic friend.... while also avoiding that she had to enter the tiny village. There had been a few too many (non-fatal!) accidents in her teenage years with her trying to get a good look... but that was all in the past.
As Mashelle approached the hill, she couldn't help but smirk a bit as she looked at it. The hill had long since been overtaken by grass and weeds, but that not what amused her. What amused her was that one could clearly tell which side of the hill her torso, arms and head leaned against. For that area wasn't covered in the same large shrubberies or even young trees that filled the rest of the hill. What also amused her was the patch of ground right on the edge of the hill. It was the only patch of ground where nothing except a few stray weeds grew. It also had a rather... noticeable shape and outline, for that was area was her proper "seat"...the empty patch having roughly the shape of Mashelle's... sizable rear (even for her scale!). That just what happens when the same area is repeatedly compressed by the full weight of a giantess across many instances for many years.
After looking around for a few seconds to make absolutely sure the area was clear, Mashelle crouched down above the "empty patch" and set her bag onto the ground as gently as she could, always vigilant to not create "too many" quakes for the comparatively tiny people of Southacre. Still, she knew she could never truly avoid them, especially as she then moved to properly sit down.... having to resist a giggle as she saw many fallen leaves all around her bounce up as her rear touched down. Even if there was plenty of room for her legs and skirt, she kept her knees slightly bent, with the soles of her boots flat onto the ground. Why? Well, because she knew the villagers would often venture closer to her during festivals like this. It also helped to make sure there was no way for them to peek up her skirt, for she was fully aware some wanted to. And even those that didn't wouldn't be able to resist the view otherwise...
Once Mashelle was seated, she started to unload the things in her basket. Perhaps it goes without saying, but it was her own meal. Besides helping to grow the "tiny" crops of Southacre, allowing them to grow many, many more, Mashelle also had her own, personal "little" field to grow crops from the southern provinces...crops more on her scale. She also kept vast amounts of livestock and poultry...those didn't come in her scale. They lived in a rather quiet corner of one of the Vassal nations of the Empire near the southern border with the Eshmer nation, so there was plenty of open space for her to do whatever she wanted. In reality, Mashelle was the one in charge, if only because she was the only one of her size for miles and miles. (Even if small dragons were technically the right size...and taste.... to comparatively be like chickens....)
After placing her meal onto a plate she had brought with, Mashelle settled her back against the steep hillside, her back smushing everything flat, with her long hair seemingly turning that hillside into a field of red "grass". She couldn't help but close her eyes and let out a slight moan of content due to how nice it felt to sit back... But she quickly realised how that must've sounded to the townsfolk as she opened her eyes again, seeing the entire town gathered in the plaza a "little ways" away from her looking at her. This made her blush a little and let out an embarrassed giggle before addressing them, knowing they would want her to say something anyway to start the feast.
"Oops, sorry about that, got a little carried away there... Though I think some of you were just enjoying the view, werent'cha?~" she teased, never being able to resist a good tease every once in a while. Besides, she had been around since her early teens, they knew she meant no harm or held grudges of any kind. If anything, the townsfolk were surprised she didn't go further, like leaning forward to show them a view of a certain...valley.
Either way, after getting a few flustered responses from the townsfolk, Mashelle let out another giggle, this one far more jovial. "Oh you know I'm just teasing ya lil fellas. Now, I say we first say our thanks to whatever goddesses you might worship. After that, let's get this feast started, I'm starving! Don't worry, I'm not eating any meat tonight, wouldn't wanna worry you, now would I?"
With that, every person quietly said their prayers and thanks to the goddess of the Pantheon they chose to worship, and the 30th annual harvest feast made possible by Mashelle's efforts started. And it wouldn't be the last one for a long time. For even if Half-Eshmer didn't have quite the same level of longevity as pureblood elves and Eshmer did... They were still known to become at least 350 years of before showing any true signs of age after they became fully mature.... Southacre wouldn't lose it's protector for a long, long time...