Here it is! The one I've been promising. I'm pretty proud of this one, and I think that the word count fits perfectly! It also doesn't have any dialogue! Hope you enjoy reading it!

》-☆-《

The wind rushed around him as he flew around the world of Hermitcraft, lazily using rockets as opposed to his normal spam. He was taking a day off from building and had decided to take a tour of the server for himself. As he flew over the remains of Loser Island, Grian felt the need to build a watcher tower there. He had been neglecting his 'watcher ego' as he called it, as he didn't want the Hermits to know that he was a watcher.

There were typically negative reactions when a player mentioned the watchers in the world hub, and Grian was sure that it would be no different on Hermitcraft. So he flew away from the island, trying to resist the urge to build in the style he experienced, and built, so many times.

However, no matter where he flew, Grian kept circling back to Loser Island. After the tenth or so time, he sighed and placed his ender chest down, pulling out the watcher mask and giving in to the ego.

The mask over his mouth, and covering his ears. The feeling of his wings on his back. The flow of power coursing through him. It was all so familiar, yet neglected. There was too much power, it had been left to build up for too long. Summon a tower. That's all. The power's too much, it's more than a tower. A combo of different towers, it's too big to start. It'll have to do. Signs, and riddles. Small gifts to show friendship. The mask, leaving his face.

Grian was in front of his mansion, watcher mask in hand. His wings and powers were gone, and he was a normal player again. He vaugly remembered what had happened while he had the mask on, but those memories were starting to fade. The clearest thing he could remember was that he needed to stop neglecting the ego.

Putting the mask back in his enderchest, Grian grabbed the materials needed to finish his nether portal hole. He built, focusing on the repetative motion of placing and destroying blocks, waiting for the inevitable message that would come in on his communicator concerning what he had just built. Around noon, it came.

Grian cleaned up from his build and went over to the towers, taking long enough to not be suspicous. Before he left, he put the watcher mask in his inventory, hoping he wouldn't need it, but knowing he would. He went back down to his nether portal and went through, going through the nether and coming out in the shopping district, flying the rest of the way to Loser Island.

A fair number of Hermits had gathered, nearly all of them, though he imagined they were still waiting for a few. Grian saw Xisuma lead the way inside the towers, but he didn't follow. Pulling out the mask again.

The mask, the wings, the powers. Flight, but to where? Where to put the next tower? The distant apocolypic lands of xB. Summon a tower, change signs in the original towers, all with magic. Magic, it settled, and control. Control. Control.

>>---<<

Grian was, somewhere. He didn't know where. It didn't look like any place he recognized. The watcher mask was in his hand, and he was facing a window. Out the window he could see the entiretly of the shopping district, but it was littered with watcher towers. He saw a long staircase leading up to the building he was in, and some Hermits walking up it.

Turning around, Grian saw a small door, and he walked through it. On the othe side was a throne room, and offerings were being left by the Hermits at the foot. Iskall looked over at him and Grian could see their mouth move, but no words came out. Mumbo came in, carrying a shulker box, which he dropped upon seeing Grian. The noise that normally would have occured didn't. Grian was deaf.

And the mask went back on

WC: 666