“There is only one Godrealm, and it has many faces.”

-Random hearsay, unknown persons

If there is one constant in the Retribution Fields, then it would be the crowning spires of the Godrealm that can be seen everywhere, no matter how far one tried to walk away from it all. No matter which direction one faces, the Godrealm will always lie there, as tantalizing as the morning sun and just as unreachable. The uninitiated would think that the Godrealm’s name a misnomer, as surely these other walled paradises could not be anything else but the Godrealm itself. The weathered and wary knows that the truth is even stranger, that these clones are in fact truly one and the same place, separated by the inconvenience of an individuals’ limited perspective.

For practical purposes, these places were called the same names and those that live closest to their reach abide to similar rules, with strangers greeting strangers like kin and family treating family like outcasts, simply because such relationships held true in another Godrealm, no matter how far. The one that Reuth was heading for held fame for being a particularly favorite place for blood-powered gods and ritual sacrifices, earning the unofficial name of “Blood Falls” among the locals.

On his back, Micha Ostor was resigning himself to whatever fate Reuth had in store for him. He had the slimmest of hopes truly that he could’ve made some kind of life in the Fields, but to have it stolen so quickly and so utterly had crushed his spirit. The one thing that he was grateful for was that Reuth had brought along Micha’s broken spear shaft with him, although it was now slightly bent. He thought of going back to sleep again and hoping to skip whatever horrors lay in his future, but a disturbing smell pricked his nose.

“Is anyone else smelling that? That awful, thick smell.” Micha said, meaning for Reuth’s crown mouth or his neck mouth to reply.

“That means we’re close to the Blood Falls.” Reuth’s main mouth gave the reply instead, its tone more neutral than before. “I advise breathing from anywhere but your mouth.”

“I don’t need to breathe.” Micha said as though it was something worth bragging, while his chest clearly rose and fell as he talked. “I can just hold my breath.”

“Suit yourself.” The main mouth spoke again, with the other mouths being oddly quiet for once. With each step taken and the lengthening of shadows and light from suns of various sizes and intensity hanging like fruits of a celestial tree, a sound was heard. From barely a whisper, to a trickle, then to a murmur, and a drone, and then of crashes and ultimately, into a roar that melted into a deafening cacophony; there could be one thing that made such a racket.

“Blood Falls.” Reuth’s main mouth said simply, his ears plugged a ways back with cork, with Micha given the same treatment. That the godling could hear his kidnapper at all was due to a simple spell, cast for convenience. More than the sounds of the Falls, Micha could not believe even more the sight that his eyes were getting.

There was the Godrealm, hanging above everything else as usual, with impenetrable walls and magic woven into barriers and wards so powerful anyone could see them. And pouring out in huge holes near the bottom were torrents of blood and viscera, creating unbelievable deluges of gore and giblets, which pooled into a massive lake, feeding several rivers of overflowing innards into its surroundings, extending out into the horizon and beyond.

At the banks of this massive lake was a city made out of giant skeletons, interspersed with numerous leather tents and the couple odd structures made from what seemed to be mummified flesh. Aside from the expected variants of red, white, and its ilk, the city was awash with plentiful blues, yellows, silvers, golds, and even green in some quarters. Trails of spells crisscross the cities’ skies, along with numerous fliers of all shapes and sizes.

Balloons and dirigibles moved to and fro without cease, alongside more fantastic vehicles, like crawlers moving on threads like spiders, or jumpers catapulting themselves one giant hop at a time. But the majority of the traffic lay in the numerous canals that penetrate deep into every part of the city, filled with numerous boats and ships and their respective cacophonies.

Reuth soon found himself walking by one such canal, keeping an eye on the traffic both on land and off it when he thought of making things easier for himself.

“Hey, over here paddler!” Reuth’s main mouth called out to a man lazily waiting on what seemed to be a cross-between a rickshaw and a paddle boat. The paddler in question perked up his head upon being called, and when he saw Reuth waving him over, the head extended even more and stopped a few feet before his potential customer.

“I need to go here before the third overflow.” One of Reuth’s hand flicked a coin towards the paddler, who grabbed it with a look and inspected it for a moment.

“Before the third overflow? That’s going to cost extra.” The paddler finally spoke, round spectacles suddenly appearing on his face. “And there’s the issue of your baggage. I don’t want anything to do with the flesh trade.”

“I can pay more.” Reuth pressed his case. “Or maybe you’re more interested in favors?”

“Bah! Favors? What do I look like, a snake?” The paddler said with seeming glib, but his eyes held no emotion. “I want real goods; things I can touch and trade.”

“I’ll give you this broken spearhead.” Reuth said, offering the eponymous item on an outstretched hand. “It’s still sharp.”

“Done!” The paddler grabbed the spearhead and retreated back to his boat. In his wake, a trail of steps appeared, spaced rather haphazardly, but uniform enough to be usable. Reuth crossed the distance with little effort, settling down into the passenger seat with Micha besides him, still securely bound and awestruck as ever.

“Everyone in? Good.” The paddler said briefly before powering the paddles on each side of the rickshaw-boat with his magic. The trio soon found themselves amongst the throng of boats and ships that crowded the waterways, with the paddler somehow managing to make his way through the confusing tangle with not even a sideways glance at near-misses and almost-accidents.