Bodark Beserkers (Bodark Voin's)
One of the most savage teams in the Razordisc history falls to the Russians. Hosting the most non-human players in a single team has caused quite a stir in the upper leagues. Some rival teams have even refused to play Bodark Voin using human purity as the argument. The coach has been quite outspoken against these comments accusing those rival teams of racism and cowardice. To be fair, with three Mutt-Blood Blunts and Wall, I think those teams show great wisdom refusing to play this team!
Parshin ‘Misha’ Mikhail (Blunt)
Misha is by far the most aggressive and brutal on the team. She is undeniably the leader of the team and alpha of the pack. She is an example of a successful human-wolf hybrid (known as Sobaka Chelovek), also called a Mutt-Bloods by opposing groups. The wise refrain from saying ‘Mutt-Blood’ within earshot of Misha as she has been known to respond with violence. Known for her strategy as much as her aggression, she is one of the most respective blunts in the game.
Ispolin ‘Titan’ Karloff (Wall)
The Russians excelled in the W.A.L. project and many offsprings fight today in the arenas. Ispolin stands out from most Wall’s as he also incorporates DNA from the Siberian Husky breed. The bridge betweel W.A.L. and Sobaka Chelovek has been attempted before but never with such success as Ispolin has seen. Standing over ten feet tall, this hybrid is the embodiment of fear and awe in equal measure. He is subservient to Misha, the alpha of the pack; but it is speculated that should anything happen to Misha it would be who steps in to lead.
Ticcani Yozhin (Blunt)
Ticcani is a quiet, astute female wolf-hybrid who always attacks her opponents with calculated precision. She rarely reacts illogically and is quick to pick up on patterns and strategies to exploit them for the benefit of her team. Her visage is one of merciless concentration and when her eyes fall upon a target there is little that person can do to escape. There are rumors that she and Misha share a familial relation but neither speaks to confirm or deny these claims.
Ivan Volkov (Blunt)
Ivan retired from the ‘sport’ of professional wrestling, which was more choreographed combat simulation than any proper sort of sport. For most of his career he was portrayed as a positive hero figure but toward the end of his career they started casting him as a villain. Concerned for how this looked to his fans he chose to retire rather than let them down. He started looking into Razordisc as a possible road to restoring his name and it turns out he has a talent for it. Still recognized for his time in professional wrestling he is starting to work his way out of his own shadow through glory and advancement in the Razordisc arena.
Natasha Koslov (Razor)
Natasha left schooling early to follow her dream into the Olympics, an ancient tradition that began long before the Great Wars. She captured the hearts of many with her grace and beauty on the ice as a figure skater. She competed in the Olympics two times and earned gold on both occasions. On her way home from the second Olympic Games Natasha, and her team, were the victims of a terrorist attack that took the lives of many. Surviving with just a few cuts and bruises, Natasha vowed to never become a victim again and entered the military where she received extensive combat training and took a liking to the shashka, an ancient Russian weapon resembling a sabre in all regards save for its extended length and guardless hilt.
Boris Novikov (Razor)
For the last ten years, Boris played in a very different arena. An expert on the ice and a sharpshooter with the puck, he was among the best in the International Hockey League; but after countless hours in the penalty box for excessive roughness and extended suspensions, Boris was finally banned from the IHL. With his true passion of hockey taken from him, and refusing to play in lesser leagues; Novikov decided to follow another passion. Drawing pleasure from pain, Boris joined the Russian Razordisc ream for the sole purpose of inflicting pain on others.
Katia Baryshnikov (Slick)
Katia is one of two Olympic athletes from the team. Excelling as a speed skater, Katia transitioned nicely into the slick position of Razordisc, dodging around opponents and distancing them easily with her speed, Katia has earned a name for herself as a slippery opponent to guard. She often finds her way to the goal with the opposition wondering how they’d ever let her move past them.
Sasha Dudnik (Razor)
A longtime veteran of the sport, Sasha has served as a deadly force inside the arena. Proven herself time and again, she has accounted for more deaths than she cares to count. In fact, mentioning the number to her is rarely well received. Haunted by the blood on her hands but unable to fight the desire to compete, Sahsa has been attempting to drown the conflict with vodka, but it has only resulted in making her more dangerous. A staggering unstoppable drunkard, Sasha Dudnik was once known for precision but has come to earn a reputation for her savagery.
Tanya ‘the Pup’ Levkin (Slick)
A true rookie, Tanya is the youngest professional Razordisc player in the world. Having studied and trained for the sport since a young age, hopes are high that she will step in and make an immediate impact. Infused with the DNA of a canine, like so many of her teammates, Tanya’s heightened senses and intensive training promise to give her an edge over the competition.
Nadia Nikolaevich (Slick)
More graceful than any Razordisc player, Nadia often mesmerizes the completion through her beauty and fluidity. Nadia was groomed for ballet from a young age, but as she matured she found a passion for competition that could not seemingly be satisfied. As an adult she started training for more physically demanding activities and fell in love with the sport of Razordisc. It became her passion. She trained intensely for two years before even trying out for a team. She was immediately recruited and in the last few years she’s established herself as a Slick to be reckoned with.
The bass from the arena’s loudspeakers were muffled in the locker room, as were the cheers from the crowd. Sasha took a long pull from her flask to stop her hands from shaking and to steel herself for another contest. She looked down at herself in the mirror-reflection of her razor sharp blade. How many had died at the hands of the woman staring back at her? How many had been cut apart by this very blade?
She shut her eyes tight and tried to will the thoughts away but the darkness behind her eyelids brought the faces of the fallen swimming before her vision. There was no escaping her past, even when she was alone. The only thing that helped to dull the visions was found in liquid form. She drank again from her flask as the muffled roar of the crowd found its way to her ears.
“Five minutes,” Natasha told her, resting a hand on her shoulder. Sasha flinched away from the hand and stared up at the graceful razor beside her. Natasha was cold hearted and deadly, a graceful presence in the arena. Sasha remembered times when she too was able to keep her emotions from the game, but those days were long behind her. She almost wished it was still like that.
She held her hand up in front of her face, the tremors were still there but they’d calmed quite a bit. She drank again from her flask, this time emptying it of its contents; swallowing the burning liquid and feeling a blossom of fire spread through her insides. Sasha tossed the flask to the ground. A tear started to slide down her cheek and she wiped it away with the back of her hand with a forced laugh.
The announcer spoke from inside the arena, temporarily quieting the crowd as he welcomed the fans and hyped up the match. When he announced the teams the crowd went wild. Sasha checked her skates and got onto her feet, gliding over to where her teammates stood by the door; her vision sliding away from her and spinning.
When the team was announced, she skated out into the arena with the rest of the Bodark Berserkers to the thunderous roar of cheer and applause. As her name was announced, Sasha stared up at the big screens and watched in slow motion as they showed a rapid-fire series of highlights from her career; images of cutting apart opponents, severing limbs and heads and ending careers and lives in equal measure. The final clip they showed was one of her most celebrated accomplishments, when she brought down the captain of the American All Stars team.
He had been considered by many at the time to be the best slick in the game, a man celebrated for his agility, speed, and intelligence. He’d set countless records, but there was no escaping Sasha that day. He was on a break for the goal with Sasha skating beside him when suddenly she spun around and ran her blade through his midsection; his momentum driving the blade forward until the hilt punched into his stomach. Flecks of blood and spittle shot from his mouth and the look of surprise and disappointment was a source of a certain amount of pride for her; but that pride was tainted with an underlying sense of regret.
The crowd went crazy over the montage while Sasha searched for justifications. Every Razordisc athlete had signed up for this, she told herself. They all knew that death was not only possible, but likely. It didn’t make things any easier for her. She pulled another flask from inside her vest and drank deeply from it while their opponents were announced.
Natasha, beside her; rested her hand on Sasha’s shoulder again. “Be careful,” Natasha told her; “We need you focused out there.”
Sasha sneered at her. “You’ll have me as I am,” she said; “As you always have me.”
Natasha looked concerned. “I only meant-“
“It doesn’t matter what you meant,” Sasha said, cutting her off. “I will be a terror for these Germans, or I will die trying.” She found a strange sense of relief at the prospect of dying.
Natasha let her hand fall and nodded.
The teams got into position. The German team, Clone-Corp, was full of genetic clones; freaks of science some would say. Sasha didn’t call them freaks though, her own team was made up of genetic anomalies. Somewhere behind Sasha one of the mutt-bloods on her team growled.
Through her swimming vision, she eyed one of the German clones and held her blade half-drawn from the scabbard, lining him up as her first target. She could already see in the way that he stood that he was not prepared to defend himself against her level of savagery. It would be easy, bloody work.
A siren blared overhead, signifying the beginning of the contest. The crowd roared in excitement and Sasha, with a predatorial swagger, started to move.