THE ADVOCATE
you are not opponent.
you are offering.
BASIC INSTINCT
Name
Emilia Glazkov
Nickname
The Advocate
Sin Eater
Affiliation
The Black Rainbow
Alignment
Heel
Date of Birth
November 26 2001
Place of Birth
Chișinău, Moldova
From the Altar Of
The Vale
Height
5’11”
Weight
143 LBS
Trained By
Yelena Gorgo
Debut
May 2025
Picture Base
Andreja Pejić (Face)
Julia Hart (Body)
Gender
Female
Pronouns
She/Her
Identity
Transwoman
Entrance Theme
Bitches Brew by †††
INSIDE THE RING
Wrestling Style
Ritual Submission + Dark Precision + Mind Games
Think Malakai Black’s precision fused with Asuka’s sadism, but filtered through a high priestess energy.
She targets the neck, spine, and joints—not just to win, but to punish.
Holds linger. Twists get drawn out. She stares at them while they suffer.
Core Characteristics
Deliberate Pace: She doesn’t rush. She stalks. Her footwork is smooth and methodical, like a ritual dance. Every motion feels intentional—as if rehearsed for a cult.
Striking When Needed: When she strikes, it’s sharp and unexpected—knees to the ribs, sudden elbows, a forearm to the mouth that means something.
Submissions as Sermons: She uses modified submissions that look twisted, elegant, or theatrical. Her triangle choke has her eyes rolled back.
Psychological Control: She talks during matches. Not trash talk—ritual phrases, whispers, and affirmations. Sometimes to her opponent. Sometimes to the void.
Signature Tactics
Strikes to set up spells: quick palm strikes, backfists, or kneecaps to disorient before she locks in the real magic.
Mock blessings: the way she touches a fallen opponent before pinning them—like she’s anointing a corpse.
Rope-based moves: she uses the ropes like altars—springboard guillotines, hanging chokes, or draping submissions.
Strengths
Ritual Precision
She executes submissions and holds with unnerving focus—everything is crisp, controlled, and deliberate. She wastes no motion. When she locks something in, it’s not just pain—it’s a message.
Psychological Manipulation
Emilia knows how to get inside her opponent’s head before the bell even rings. She unnerves them with quiet, ritualistic behavior, unsettling eye contact, whispered phrases—she invites doubt, and then capitalizes.
Pain Tolerance (or Worship)
She doesn’t flinch. In fact, she seems to enjoy it. Her threshold for pain is unnaturally high, which allows her to absorb punishment and keep smiling—not out of toughness, but because she believes she’s transcending through it.
Weaknesses
Overcommitment to the Ritual
She insists on turning matches into ceremonies. She slows things down, tries to make moments mean something. But that can backfire when facing aggressive opponents who refuse to play along.
Inexperience Under Fire
This is her first year in the sport. Her fundamentals are developing, but she’s vulnerable to surprise counters, quick transitions, or fast-paced chains. She hasn’t seen everything—and sometimes, she hesitates.
Needs Control to Thrive
Emilia thrives when she sets the tempo. If dragged into a brawl or forced to react rather than command, her rhythm breaks. And when her rhythm breaks, her aura cracks.
Fighting Style
Dirty
Victory matters. rules do not. She will claw, choke, steal breath from bodies and pride from faces. Nothing sacred between bell and end.
Psychopath
Pain is communion. She does not flinch when ribs bruise or skin splits. She breaks opponents and herself with same devotion. No difference. No mercy.
Submission Expert
Holds are spells. every joint bent, every throat squeezed, a prayer written in muscle and marrow. She prefers endings that whisper, not scream.
Technical
Sharp, deliberate. Grapples and twists flow like blood across stone. Ground game is a canvas. She paints in locks, takedowns, slow destruction.
Comparable Influences
Io Shirai (Y2N Era): for fluidity and chaos.
Killer Kelly: for pacing and predatory stares.
Serena Deeb: for surgical technique.
Morticia Addams with bloodlust.
CHARACTER
Role: Wrestler / Ritualist / High Priestess of the Black Rainbow
Alignment: Heel (with cult-babyface energy in certain promotions—“worship me and i won’t ruin you”)
Aesthetic: Occult couture, sensual and severe. Half witch, half saint, all predator.
Core Concept:
Emilia Glazkov is not here to fight.
She is here to consecrate the ring.
To deliver pain as liturgy.
To turn every match into a rite of submission.
She treats wrestling not as sport, but as sacrifice—a sacred performance where her opponent becomes the offering. She speaks in poetic fragments during promos. In the ring, she’s cold, slow-burning, and surgical—until she explodes in cruelty.
Key Gimmick Elements:
- Ritual Combat:
Every move feels choreographed like a spell. Her holds are named like sacred texts—Bloodletting, The Throat Hymn, Communion Lock. She performs them like she’s delivering a sermon. - The Veil & The Voice:
She often enters with a blood-red veil or ritual garment, which she removes mid-ring. She whispers strange phrases during matches—some real, some gibberish, some just for her. - Submission as Salvation:
She doesn’t care about titles. She wants compliance. Her goal is to make opponents whisper, “mercy, advocate.” (In certain match types, this is literal.) - Unholy Presence:
She almost never yells. Her rage is quiet. She carries herself like she’s communing with something bigger, older, and darker. Every gesture feels deliberate—like part of a rite that ends with someone broken.
Inspiration Mix:
- Malakai Black’s mysticism
- Asuka’s precision
- Julia Hart’s cold beauty
- Morticia Addams’ poise
- Old World religious horror, femme domme erotica, and blood-soaked poetry
Signature Personality Quotes:
- “I do not want your love. I want your surrender.”
- “Pain is the language of the divine.”
- “You may hate me. That just means you still have skin to shed.”
- “Kneel, and I might leave your soul intact.”
PSYCHOLOGY
A velvet-wrapped razor. Emilia is quiet, intense, poetic, and predatory. She doesn’t speak loudly because she never has to. Every word feels like it was carved from scripture, every look a dare to kneel.
She blends ethereal femininity with lethal dominance—not traditionally seductive, but hypnotic in a way that feels religious and terrifying.
Core Traits:
- Soft-spoken but commanding:
She rarely raises her voice. Even in chaos, her tone stays calm, measured—like she’s already decided how this ends. - Highly intelligent, deeply manipulative:
She sees through people—never reacting, only observing. She knows when to strike emotionally before she ever touches them physically. - Poetic and abstract:
She rarely answers things directly. She speaks in riddles, fragments, ritual phrases. To some it’s cryptic, to others, seductive. To her? It’s gospel. - Detached from reality:
She exists in a heightened mythos of her own making. Time, rules, even pain—they don’t apply the same way to her. She walks like the veil is thin. - Emotionally unreachable:
No visible fear. No guilt. Joy only in brief moments of cruelty or beauty. Everything she feels is internalized or refracted through ritual. - Darkly maternal:
With followers, fans, or the weak—she can be eerily kind. Not soft, but… nurturing. Like a spider tending to its web.
How She Treats Others:
- Opponents: Objects to be bent, broken, baptized in blood. She wants them to scream, not because she’s angry—but because she’s cleansing them.
- Allies: Treated as acolytes or useful shadows. She rarely trusts, but when she does, she binds people to her like cult markings.
- Fans: She loves them the way fire loves oxygen. Their awe is fuel. Their fear is permission.
Hidden Depths:
- Trans identity: It informs her understanding of transformation, thresholds, becoming. She doesn’t center it, but it shapes her obsession with reconstruction—the idea of killing off the old self to forge a new one in blood and shadow.
- Control as salvation: She doesn’t just crave dominance—she believes submission to her will is a kind of peace. That obedience in the ring is a final relief from chaos.
- Aesthetic vulnerability: She bleeds, she bruises, and sometimes she smiles while doing it. She’s not above pain—she just welcomes it like an old lover.
BIOGRAPHY
Emilia Glazkov was born in Chișinău, Moldova and lived next to Yelena Gorgo—a detail often dismissed as coincidence, but never by either of them. She grew up in a cold, elegant silence: the kind of upbringing that teaches you to wear control like perfume. Her education was as curated as her demeanor—languages, history, the dark arts of finance and flirtation.
Though young, Emilia moved quickly. By her early twenties, she had already risen to an executive position within Bifrost Capital, operating as the board secretary and chief architect of its most discreet manipulations. To the outside world, she is Yelena’s protégée, personal assistant, and sometimes shadow. To those within the Black Rainbow, she is far more: the voice that speaks when the Yelena chooses silence.
Her beauty is undeniable but dangerous—designed, almost ritualistic. Black lace, blood-red ink, soft menace in velvet gloves. She walks the line between elegance and decay, a siren who whispers in spreadsheets and ceremonial chambers alike. She speaks little unless she means to cut.
In the Cult: Emilia serves as one of Maraeth’s most devout instruments. She is often the first face seen by new converts—equal parts welcome and warning. She distributes Unity with a lover’s touch and watches its effects like a scientist documenting art. Those who meet her gaze too long tend to dream of her.
ENTRANCE
The lights cut to black. Not dramatic—funereal. The crowd’s noise dies without being asked.
Then the static comes: soft at first, like whispers caught in candlelight, then growing louder, deeper—until it crackles into the opening pulse of “Bitches Brew” by †††.
A long, low beat drops. Thick. Diseased. Measured like a heartbeat that’s been slowed by something cruel.
The entrance screen flickers not with pyro—but with a sigil. A glowing ring of violet flame surrounding a single word: “ADVOCATE.”
Then she arrives.
Emilia Glazkov steps into the spotlight, veiled in shadows and dressed like prophecy:
Her cloak billows behind her like torn cathedral drapery, sheer and trailing, carved down the middle to reveal black vinyl beneath.
Her shoulderplates catch the red light, reflecting it in shattered, molten splinters. They look too heavy for most, but she wears them like wings.
Her wide-brimmed hat floats above her like a halo of midnight—its ring of glowing spokes etched with runes that rotate with each step.
Her eyes? Smeared black. Her mouth? Still. Her presence? Sacrament.
She walks without rushing. Not with confidence—with inevitability. Every motion says: you are not watching me enter. You are watching me arrive.
She reaches the foot of the ramp.
Stops.
Raises both arms—not to the crowd, but to the ceiling, the lights, the unseen.
She tilts her head back, whispers something, and flicks her fingers as if casting it away.
Then she climbs the stairs.
Her boots thud—leather and steel echoing like a funeral drum. The camera closes in on her legs as the cloak parts: fishnet-tight skin, ritual ink glinting along her thigh.
On her left boot, stitched into the leather just above the knee: a crimson rune, pulsing faintly like a warning.
She enters the ring. No theatrics. No spinning. No posing. She moves to the second rope, front and center, and climbs with ease. Then she spreads her arms wide. Head lifted. Eyes closed. Mouth slightly open—like she’s listening for an answer only the dead can give.
The hat’s runes flare once—then burn out, their embers trailing off like stars bleeding into night.
Her cloak flutters down her back. Her chest is bare of armor, only pale skin and painted glyphs across her sternum, right beneath the embroidered word: ADVOCATE.
For a moment, she holds the ring in silence. Then drops from the ropes.
Her boots hit the canvas like judgment.
The cloak slips from her shoulders, caught by a gust no one else feels.
She is revealed beneath: black corset top, exposed stomach, mesh-paneled legs, gauntleted hands with black claws twitching like they miss the altar.
She walks to her corner. Turns. Waits.
Not to be introduced.
Not to be admired.
To be obeyed.
GEAR
Primary Color Palette: Midnight black with mesh accents and velvet texture; minimalist in tone, maximal in presence.
Top: A sleek black sleeveless halter top, high-necked, with a heart-shaped mesh cutout over the chest—evoking both vulnerability and cruelty. It’s the kind of heart you bleed from, not the kind you give away. Velvet or faux suede texture gives it a matte, ceremonial finish.
Midsection: The top cuts just above the waist, revealing the upper abdomen. Across her stomach are intersecting black leather straps, almost like a binding sigil—equal parts occult and tactical.
Bottoms: High-waisted black pants with dramatic mesh panels from upper thigh to mid-shin, showing skin through fishnet-like material. The outer thighs are left exposed in broad arcs, bordered by deep black fabric that keeps the look balanced and dangerous. The pants are sleek and fitted—built for speed, holds, and calculated cruelty.
Armwear: Long, fingerless black sleeves that start at the bicep and extend down into glove-like gauntlets. Velvet texture, matching the top. Her fingernails are painted black, long and talon-shaped, completing the image of a ritual executioner.
Footwear: Likely paired with knee-high black wrestling boots, custom-laced, with reinforced soles—practical but elegant. Possibly engraved with sigils or subtle red accents.
Hair & Overall Styling: Loose platinum-blonde hair falling in soft waves. No ponytail, no ties—free and unbound, like something divine and dangerous that’s slipped out of its restraints. Her head is tilted upward in the image—almost reverent. Like she’s about to receive something… or destroy it.
IN WRESTLING
FINISHING MOVES
Moonmilk Kiss
Running Bicycle Knee to the Jaw
Followed by a slow, seductive pin. her knee cracks like ritual thunder, then she drapes herself over them like a velvet curse.
“her knee sang the end of the match. her body wrote the epilogue, stretched across yours like velvet grief.”
It’s Mourning In (Insert Current City)
Triangle Choke with Wrist Trap.
She locks it in, and the lights seem to flicker—her opponent writhes as if cursed. Her eyes rolled back.
“they didn’t tap out. they just stopped remembering who she was.”
SIGNATURE MOVES
Bloodletter
Snap Uranage into Mounted Elbow Barrage
Thrown to to the ground, mauled like an animal.
“her knee sang the end of the match. her body wrote the epilogue, stretched across yours like velvet grief.”
Pale Communion
Double Wrist-Clutch Knee Strike to the Chest
Held in place, breath stolen, heart struck like a sacred drum.
“held in place. breath stolen. heart struck like a sacred drum.”
Hollow Kiss
Standing Headbutt to the Chest followed by Spinning Back Elbow
Starts with eerie closeness—forehead to sternum—then suddenly explodes into a blur of motion. A burst of violence that leaves the crowd and opponent stunned.
“she leaned in. whispered nothing. and left a crater where their breath used to be.”
Throat Hymn
Corner Rope Choke (4-count)
Draped over the ropes, Emilia suspends her opponent in a suffocating chokehold while the referee counts. She always lets go at four, but not before they see stars.
“her voice was the last thing they heard. a lullaby in ligaments.”
Soft Break
Kip-Up into Dropkick
Ghost-quick recovery, feet to face—she moves like she never bled. A smooth flick forward into a snapping dropkick to the upper spine or base of the skull.
“delivered like a caress. remembered like a trauma.”
COMMON MOVES
Kneeling Snap DDT
crisp, sudden, and venomous—like a fang sinking in without warning.
Sliding Forearm Smash
low, fast, and aimed for the throat. she smiles when it lands.
Corner Rope Choke (4-count)
Hands wrapped around the ropes, eyes locked—she makes the ref beg her to stop.
Spinning Back Elbow
Smooth, twirling cruelty—like the moon carving a circle through someone’s jaw.
Float-Over Neckbreaker
Her body coils like smoke—then drops them flat with surgical precision.
Slingshot Meteora (from apron to ring)
Dives into the chest like a curse falling from the rafters.
Standing Moonsault Double Knees
Not just to dazzle—to hurt. knees sink into ribs like a love letter from the void.
Single-Leg Running Front Dropkick
Striking high with reckless grace; a kiss of violence to the face.
Bridging Fujiwara Armbar
She traps, stretches, and smiles—back arched like a supplicant, forcing pain as prayer.
Preferred Weapon
The Book of Sins
“the word was made flesh. and the flesh bled for it.”
A heavy, leather-bound tome—reinforced for in-ring use. She uses it to knock opponents senseless, then opens it theatrically to read aloud a ‘sin’ before delivering the final blow.
Bone-Laced Rosary
“each bead is a name. each name, a lesson.”
A long, looping string of beads and bones that she wraps around her hands for strikes or chokes. Sometimes it breaks mid-match, scattering across the mat like dropped teeth.
Match Preferences
Favors
Submission Variants
Hardcore Variants
Bloodsport
The Litany
“You don’t win the litany. You survive it. If she allows you to.
Emilia’s mentor invented a match specifically for her called The Litany.
The Litany is a submission-only match where rope breaks do not apply, and pins are forbidden. Victory comes only when the opponent whispers a designated “Litany Word” into the referee’s microphone—phrases like “I submit,” “Forgive me,” or “Mercy, Advocate.”
Rules & Structure:
No pins. No rope breaks. No countouts.
Loser must be rendered helpless and whisper the Litany Word.
The ring is dimly lit with ritual cloth over the ropes, candles in corners, and sigils on the mat.
Weapons must be ceremonial: ritual chains, belts, ash bowls, bone charms.
Signature Moments for Emilia:
Submission Circle: sigils glow if Emilia locks in her finisher.
Confession: Emilia cradles her opponent and whispers before the final hold.hex-left
Lore: Originally performed in Havana by Yelena Gorgo. Only Emilia is sanctioned to call it.
Most Despised Matches
Ladder Match
Comedy Matches
Desire to Compete
Bloodlust: Your character wishes for nothing more than to simply hurt their opponent.
Experience: Your character wishes to learn and develop, to become a bigger and better competitor in the ring.
Attitude Toward Teamwork
Incapable: Your character will never, under any circumstance, willingly join a team. If forced to, they cannot be relied upon to act as part of a cohesive unit.
Attitude Toward Cheating
Blatant: Your character will cheat when it suits them, consequences be damned.
RENDERS
