Dmitri Drako








Wrestler's Real Name: Dmitri Drako

Wrestler Age/Date of Birth: 28 years old, 7/9/1996

Height: 6'1

Weight: 225

Hometown: Siberia

Alignment (Face? Heel? Antihero?):

Pic Base: Aaron Taylor-Johnson

Backstory/Important Character Details:

Dmitri was born in a small Siberian village, a remote dot on the map where the endless expanse of snow seemed to blend with the sky, forming a canvas of stark white and pale blue. The village, with its wooden cottages and smoke curling from chimneys, seemed to whisper the stories of its past in the howling winter winds. Dmitri grew up under the shadow of his father’s tales, stories of valor and sacrifice from his time as a soldier. His father, with eyes that had seen too much, would sit by the hearth, his voice rough like the bark of the old pine trees surrounding their home. His mother, a gentle soul whose warmth could rival the strongest of fires, nurtured Dmitri’s early years with boundless love and patience, her lullabies weaving a sense of security around him.

As Dmitri grew, the idyllic simplicity of village life began to chafe against his burgeoning curiosity and defiance. The lessons of the past became less of a shield and more of a mirror, reflecting the growing discontent within him. The village, once a bastion of comfort, became a cage, its snowy tranquility disrupted by whispers of corruption and deceit that seeped into his consciousness like the cold creeping through the gaps in the walls.

His once unshakable faith in the system, in the ideals that his father had served and his mother had cherished, began to fracture. The rigidity of authority, the cold, impersonal bureaucracy that masked its malevolence behind smiles and empty promises, gnawed at him. Dmitri's questions, once innocent and curious, became sharp and piercing, cutting through the veneer of his community’s quiet acceptance. His anger grew, a fierce flame that could no longer be contained within the confines of the small village.

The frosty winter night that marked the turning point in his life arrived with a chilling abruptness. The moon cast a silvery sheen over the snow, creating a deceptive beauty that belied the danger it cloaked. Dmitri was jolted from sleep by the sound of heavy boots crunching through the snow, the door to his small home splintering under the force of the secret police’s intrusion. The men who stormed in were like shadows, their faces hidden behind the hoods of their dark coats, their intentions as cold and unfeeling as the Siberian wind. They seized him without a word, their hands rough and impersonal, dragging him from the warmth of his home into the biting cold of the night.

As he was hauled away, Dmitri’s heart pounded not just with fear but with a profound sense of betrayal. The snow, once a familiar friend, now felt like an unforgiving blanket suffocating him. His mother’s cries pierced through the darkness, each sounded a dagger to his heart, while his father’s silent, stoic despair spoke of a loss too deep for words.

The journey to the distant gulag was a blur of cold and darkness. The days merged into an unending stretch of white, punctuated only by the relentless grind of the prison train. When Dmitri finally arrived at the Arctic circle, the enormity of his isolation struck him with brutal clarity. The gulag was a desolate fortress, a place where the sun rarely reached, and the cold was an omnipresent force, seeping into the bones of its inhabitants.

Inside those grim walls, Dmitri was enveloped by an abyss of silence and despair. The barracks were cold and devoid of warmth, much like the land outside, and the guards were as unfeeling as the frozen tundra. Stripped of his identity and dignity, Dmitri found himself a mere number in a sea of lost souls, each one a testament to the cruelty of a system that thrived on oppression and fear.

The vast Arctic wasteland became a constant reminder of everything he had, his histologist home, his freedom, and his connection to the world he had once known. The endless white of the snow was a cruel mimicry of the blank slate his life had become, a stark reminder of the hopes he had harbored and the dreams that had been so mercilessly shattered.


Strengths:

Survival Skills: The harsh Arctic environment was both an adversary and a teacher. Dmitriy’s ability to endure freezing and find sustenance in such conditions became vital for his survival. His familiarity with the terrain allowed him to use natural resources effectively, whether it was for shelter, food, or navigation.


Combat and Self-Defense: The constant threat of violence from both guards and fellow inmates meant that Dmitriy had to master combat and self-defense. His proficiency in these areas helped him protect himself and others, earning him respect and trust among the prisoners, which was crucial for forming alliances.


Leadership and Strategy: Dmitri's leadership skills were refined through necessity. He had to inspire hope and unity among the prisoners, who were often demoralized and divided. His strategic mind helped in planning escapes, managing resources, and organizing resistance efforts against both the guards and the oppressive system.


Stealth and Evasion: Mastering stealth was essential in a place where even the slightest mistake could lead to severe punishment or death. Dmitriy’s ability to move undetected, avoid patrols, and exploit the camp’s weaknesses enabled him to orchestrate and execute his escape plans with precision.


Psychological Resilience: The psychological toll of the gulag was immense. Dmitri’s ability to endure torture and isolation without breaking down was perhaps his greatest asset. His mental fortitude allowed him to stay focused on his goals and maintain the drive necessary for both survival and escape.



Weaknesses: Limited time in the wrestling world.


Entrance Theme Music


Ring Entrance:

As the lights in the arena dim, the atmosphere shifts from electric anticipation to palpable tension. The audience's collective breath hitches, and a hush falls over the crowd as the opening notes of "Make It Rain" by Ed Sheeran begin to pulse through the sound system. The deep, resonant beats create a rhythm that reverberates through the floor and up into the very souls of the spectators, setting the stage for a grand entrance.

A thick fog rolls over the entrance ramp, curling and twisting like wisps of smoke. The fog machine's mist blends with the pulsating lights, creating an eerie, atmospheric effect that dances along with the beat of the music. The arena’s lights flicker sporadically, flashing in sync with the heavy bass, adding a sense of urgency and excitement to the moment.

As the beat drops and the music intensifies, a spotlight focuses on the entrance curtain. Through the haze, the figure of Dmitri Drako emerges, his imposing silhouette cutting a dramatic contrast against the swirling mist. He steps into the light, revealing his full, commanding presence. Dmitri is clad in a striking outfit designed to evoke both power and mystique.

He wears a custom-made, deep crimson leather trench coat with intricate silver embroidery that runs along the collar and down the sleeves. The coat’s high collar is turned up, framing his chiseled face and accentuating his intense, steely gaze. Beneath the coat, Dmitri sports black wrestling trunks featuring bold red accents displayed on the side.

His boots are knee-high and polished, made of rugged black leather with silver buckles, exuding both strength and style. Around his wrists are thick, silver-spiked wristbands that catch the light with every movement, adding to his menacing aura. His hair is styled in a sharp, controlled manner, and his eyes glint with a combination of determination and defiance.

As Dmitri makes his way down the ramp, he exudes an air of unshakable confidence. His strides are purposeful and powerful, each step echoing his determination to dominate. The crowd's cheers and jeers create a cacophony of sound that Dmitri appears to absorb, his expression impassive yet intensely focused.

Halfway down the ramp, Dmitri pauses, and the lights in the arena dim once more. The fog thickens, and the music's volume drops, leaving only the sound of a distant, echoing heartbeat. Dmitri raises his arms high, and a series of bright, synchronized pyrotechnic bursts erupt from the stage behind him, showering the area with a dazzling display of sparks. The pyrotechnics are timed perfectly with the explosive beats of the song, creating a visual crescendo that captivates the audience.

With the final burst of flames, the arena’s lights return to full intensity, and Dmitri resumes his march to the ring. He slides under the bottom rope with fluid precision, rising to his feet with a powerful, authoritative stance. As he stands in the center of the ring, the lights focus on him, casting an imposing shadow that stretches across the canvas. Dmitri’s eyes scans the crowd, a silent challenge to any who dare to face him. His presence radiates dominance, and the audience responds with a mixture of awe and apprehension.


In-Ring Style: Strong style.


10 or More Standard Moves:

European Uppercut
Dropkick
Closeline
Lariat
Elbows
Punch
Kick
Slap
Chop
Superkick
Slingblade
Drop Toe Hold

Tazzplex
T-Bone Suplex
Vertical Suplex
Belly-To-Belly Suplex
Gut-Wrench Suplex
German Suplex
Vertical Suplex
Over Head Belly To Belly Suplex

Burning Hammer

Spinebuster
Backstabber
Powerbomb Back Stabber (see Pentagon Jr.)
Sling Shot Backstabber (see Pentagon Jr.)
Argentine Backbreaker (see Pentagon Jr.)
Fireman's Carry Backbreaker (see Pentagon Jr.)
Tilt-a-Whirl Backbreaker

Evenflow DDT (see Raven)
Elevated DDT (see Pentagon Jr.)
Fireman's Carry Reverse DDT (see Pentagon Jr.)

Death Valley Driver
Penta Driver Superkick


SupSuperkickerkicLariatFinishing Move Name

Baba Yaga: (see Pentagon Jr fear factor/ package piledriver
Vodyanoy: Texas Clover Leaf


Favorite Hardcore Attacks/Spots: Chair shot. Bret "Hit Man" Hart's Ringpost Figure-Four Leglock