<strong>The Mythic Village</strong><br/><br/>If one wanted to feel most like a God, there were few better ways than walking down the single main street of the Mythic Village. The Village, like the Town, had no name, but there the similarities ended. It was the dark shadow of the shining tourist town. Off limits to visitors, and carefully guarded by sentinels both seen and unseen. They allowed him to pass without confrontation, of course.<br/><br/>The collection of houses was a curious heterogeneous mix, but not nearly so much as the freakish inhabitants. As Enzo walked boldly down the dirt road, villagers appeared in doorways and windows. They kept a respectful distance from the Xantelli, but hope was in their eyes and supplication in their postures. Few could pass for fully human. Animal features were common, chimera that the Greeks never dreamed of. Men who towered over the doctor, walls of muscle crafted for their work in the fields. A woman with six impossibly long arms, well suited for her life in the orchards. None of these bore the mark of a family member. They were a curious balance between community property and free people. An unspoken bargain tied them to the Xantelli family - they would work, and work hard, and in return all of their needs were met, including gifts that only the Xantelli's could grant.<br/><br/>Without slowing his pace, Enzo bestowed the blessings of the Family, both material and organic. One woman found herself holding a rare bottle of wine. A second was suddenly dressed in a shimmering silk gown that flattered her parallel rows of enormous teats. One man, built like a bull with arms that stretched to the ground and ended with hooves, felt his cock grow even larger and thicker; it would last for the night, much to the pleasure and chagrin of his three wives.<br/><br/>The workings of a God were capricious, though. It would not serve to have the presence of a Xantelli become associated only with gifts. Here a limb withered. There a man started gasping for breath, his new gills requiring quick immersion in water to function. A woman found herself clad in tight latex that did little to disguise the sprawling mass of tentacles that now writhed in a bulge around her waist.<br/><br/>In the village square he was obsequiously confronted by the Mayor. The man had been chosen by the villagers not to rule, but to be the conduit for communication with the Xantelli's. It was not an enviable position. Marco had allowed the title, finding it easier to deal with a single point of contact at times. The man was huge, with skin like bark and a shaggy moss growing over his multiple, constantly moving, limbs. Enzo did not recall his name.<br/><br/>"Welcome, oh lord, to our humble village. How can we serve you?"<br/><br/>Enzo waved him off. He was enjoying the walk too much to engage in conversation now. But the man was persistent.<br/><br/>"Please, Lord Enzo. If you have only a moment. The machines for the fields - the tractors, the trucks. They are in need of repair. We are working hard, but it would be easier for us to serve you..." He trailed off at the flash of Enzo's violet eyes. The doctor cared little about the villagers, and even less about machines. One talent the Mayor had developed in his years of service was knowing exactly when to shut up.<br/><br/>Enzo gestured vaguely with his hand. "Send word to the manor. Someone will deal with it." He was bored now. The trip through the village hadn't scratched the itch that plagued him. Challenge -- that was what was needed. He would not find it here, not among this subservient caste. Dissatisfied, he turned his steps back toward the Manor. Perhaps a meal would put him in better spirits.<br/><br/>(--> To the Manor)<br/>