Branzy was certainly a gamble.

It was like offering up a heart to a god, that god being Clownpierce, and it was only a matter of time before he’d be roped in completely by another team. But then again, he was a wild card, an ace slotted between other cards of uncertainty.

And best of all? Branzy didn’t have a team. He was currently on his own, probably engulfed in a Redstone trap for someone who commissioned it. He wasn’t cheap. So anyone that could get a hand on Branzy’s work was practically adding an ace to their hand. And in the game of Lifesteal, everyone sought out an ace, a wildcard opportunity to turn the tides for better or for worse when facing off against each other in deadly fights.

If anything, Branzy was insane. It didn’t seem like it, only because he hesitated to join in on a conversation, but the aura slipped past his maroon-purple eyes that could very well pierce through bedrock itself. Everyone had to be careful around him, even Clownpierce.

He didn’t wield any weapons well, except for a scythe. It was simple to place a finger on the exact strength of this newer player, and it barely surpassed Clownpierce. As much as no one wanted to admit it, the veteran members of Lifesteal were trying to steal Branzy and veer him clear from Clownpierce’s path.

His skills were desirable for any team; because nearly every team lacked the incompetence to complete Redstone contraptions as swiftly and as perfectly he did. If anyone dare try and setup a trap five minutes before the moment it were due, it was ninety-nine percent more likely to completely fail; a Redstone dud. Something that Branzy completely avoided.

He was talking a quick stroll through spawn, more than likely on his way to travel to another set of cords to start and finish a Redstone contraption for another team on the server; more than likely an ‘unescapable’ explosion, or an outright unknown coordinated disaster waiting to strike an unknowing and unexpected victim.

Plus, Clownpierce was looking for a wildcard anyways.