I was sitting upon a cement block in Atlas Park, lazily counting time as Avatea and Zwillinger stood nearby, looking alert and eager. We had received a cordial invitation from one Mr. Hassenpheffer, (Whose name is quite a mouthful) a prominent member of the base building community, to view his latest architectural work.
My mind was starting to drift when suddenly appeared a large white rabbit, eyes aglint, standing upright and stirring a cup of tea. I found none of this peculiar, however; this WAS Paragon City.
"Greetings," said the rabbit that was Mr. Hassenpheffer, "shall we be going?" We nodded our agreement. "One thing before we go," he said, "you'll want to shrink down for this."
Shrink down? I thought. "But why should we want to be small?"
"It's a surprise," the white rabbit said. "Hurry now," (Here he reached for his pocket watch) "there's not much time, and a lot to see!" And with that, he leapt into the shimmering base portal.
Intrigued, we three members of the community team shrunk ourselves down, taking the form of some miniature Clockwork machines. We followed headlong after the rabbit, jumping into the bright blue beacon--
--and were deposited on the stone floor of a very expansive room, made all the more enormous by our newfound diminuitive statures. This most peculiar burrow was all stonework and angles, stairways and doorways and masonry of different colors.
"Welcome to my maze," said the rabbit. "It took quite a bit of work."
"This is amazing," remarked Avatea, looking around. The rabbit nodded.
"Well, come along! This way!"
He led us to a wall perforated with square holes, indicating that we should enter. Each hole was its own narrow tunnel, with branching pathways, round-the-bends, straight drops and loops that took you right back where you started. We tried as best we could to navigate the wall (which was quite like a big stone block of Swiss cheese), eventually coming out the other side, face-to-face with high walls stretching floor to ceiling: a giant maze snaking across the floor.
Again, the rabbit smiled. "Follow the barrels," he said. "Without them, I think even I would be lost!"
"Barrels?"
"The ones in the walls!"
"How can a barrel be in a wall?" I asked. (At this, the rabbit bounded off)
We traversed the twisting corridors, the rabbit hurrying on in front of us, disappearing 'round corners and down (or up) narrow chutes and chimneys. We three split up, winding and winding down the path, retracing our steps back from dead ends, turning this way and that way, and every which way, trying to mind the landmark barrels. (Which I found to be a rather strange sight upon first seeing them! Imagine, a barrel, stuck into a wall! How can a barrel be a barrel if half of it is missing?)
The maze was not only horizontal, but vertical: at the exit of one maze I found myself in a library of sorts, with stairs portruding from a wall. "These stairs go nowhere!" I huffed aloud; but then, on thinking about it, "Of course! You walk UP stairs." And a jump put me into the next area.
This went on for some time, the areas looking curiouser and curiouser. There were walls of different colors, impossible things: ceilings without BEING ceilings; they were floors, or maybe they weren't anything at all, for if you looked up you could see right through them as if they weren't there. (But they most certainly were, if you tried to bump your head against them!) Time seemed to lose meaning in the maze, and with each step disorienting me a little more I was certain that the further I went, the madder I would become.
After some indeterminable amount of time the walls seemed to open up, as though the magic holding together the maze was lessening; stone blocks littered the floor, and in some places hung suspended in the air. Ahead was the rabbit, standing underneath a grand display of celestial bodies dangling from the ceiling. "You're almost at the end," he said.
We followed him down one more long hall, straight and unadorned. Through a doorway lay the center of the maze: a great room of glowing green crystal (Or perhaps it was solidified gelatin?) and criss-crossing arches, with a grand stairway lit by torches dividing the center of the room. A throne sat at the top of the stairs.
"This is really incredible," said Zwillinger. The rabbit nodded his thanks, and stirred his tea.
It was time to go. We headed out through a chamber that led back into the first room. We thanked the rabbit for the tour and stepped back out through the portal.
Thinking back on it, the talking rabbit and his maze may have been nothing more than a curious dream brought on by a bright and blustery day, but the strangeness and wonderful complexity of the rabbit's maze was an experience I shan't soon forget.
I was sitting upon a cement block in Atlas Park, lazily counting time as Avatea and Zwillinger stood nearby, looking alert and eager. We had received a cordial invitation from one Mr. Hassenpheffer, (Whose name is quite a mouthful) a prominent member of the base building community, to view his latest architectural work.
My mind was starting to drift when suddenly appeared a large white rabbit, eyes aglint, standing upright and stirring a cup of tea. I found none of this peculiar, however; this WAS Paragon City.
"Greetings," said the rabbit that was Mr. Hassenpheffer, "shall we be going?" We nodded our agreement. "One thing before we go," he said, "you'll want to shrink down for this."
Shrink down? I thought. "But why should we want to be small?"
"It's a surprise," the white rabbit said. "Hurry now," (Here he reached for his pocket watch) "there's not much time, and a lot to see!" And with that, he leapt into the shimmering base portal.
Intrigued, we three members of the community team shrunk ourselves down, taking the form of some miniature Clockwork machines. We followed headlong after the rabbit, jumping into the bright blue beacon--
--and were deposited on the stone floor of a very expansive room, made all the more enormous by our newfound diminuitive statures. This most peculiar burrow was all stonework and angles, stairways and doorways and masonry of different colors.
"Welcome to my maze," said the rabbit. "It took quite a bit of work."
"This is amazing," remarked Avatea, looking around. The rabbit nodded.
"Well, come along! This way!"
He led us to a wall perforated with square holes, indicating that we should enter. Each hole was its own narrow tunnel, with branching pathways, round-the-bends, straight drops and loops that took you right back where you started. We tried as best we could to navigate the wall (which was quite like a big stone block of Swiss cheese), eventually coming out the other side, face-to-face with high walls stretching floor to ceiling: a giant maze snaking across the floor.
Again, the rabbit smiled. "Follow the barrels," he said. "Without them, I think even I would be lost!"
"Barrels?"
"The ones in the walls!"
"How can a barrel be in a wall?" I asked. (At this, the rabbit bounded off)
We traversed the twisting corridors, the rabbit hurrying on in front of us, disappearing 'round corners and down (or up) narrow chutes and chimneys. We three split up, winding and winding down the path, retracing our steps back from dead ends, turning this way and that way, and every which way, trying to mind the landmark barrels. (Which I found to be a rather strange sight upon first seeing them! Imagine, a barrel, stuck into a wall! How can a barrel be a barrel if half of it is missing?)
The maze was not only horizontal, but vertical: at the exit of one maze I found myself in a library of sorts, with stairs portruding from a wall. "These stairs go nowhere!" I huffed aloud; but then, on thinking about it, "Of course! You walk UP stairs." And a jump put me into the next area.
This went on for some time, the areas looking curiouser and curiouser. There were walls of different colors, impossible things: ceilings without BEING ceilings; they were floors, or maybe they weren't anything at all, for if you looked up you could see right through them as if they weren't there. (But they most certainly were, if you tried to bump your head against them!) Time seemed to lose meaning in the maze, and with each step disorienting me a little more I was certain that the further I went, the madder I would become.
After some indeterminable amount of time the walls seemed to open up, as though the magic holding together the maze was lessening; stone blocks littered the floor, and in some places hung suspended in the air. Ahead was the rabbit, standing underneath a grand display of celestial bodies dangling from the ceiling. "You're almost at the end," he said.
We followed him down one more long hall, straight and unadorned. Through a doorway lay the center of the maze: a great room of glowing green crystal (Or perhaps it was solidified gelatin?) and criss-crossing arches, with a grand stairway lit by torches dividing the center of the room. A throne sat at the top of the stairs.
"This is really incredible," said Zwillinger. The rabbit nodded his thanks, and stirred his tea.
It was time to go. We headed out through a chamber that led back into the first room. We thanked the rabbit for the tour and stepped back out through the portal.
Thinking back on it, the talking rabbit and his maze may have been nothing more than a curious dream brought on by a bright and blustery day, but the strangeness and wonderful complexity of the rabbit's maze was an experience I shan't soon forget.
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