Binky is big, ugly, and pink. An albino since birth, he perfers to lurk in snow-drifts when not playing Bloodbowl to surprise Nordic snacky-treats.
Most Nords dislike Binky. They call him the Fumbvulvintermitgreatteef, which basically translates as "Winter with fangs".

An empty suit of armor, dented and scarred. What animates it in the service of the Legion is unknown to all.

Some people think the Hood wears a hood because he's ugly. Others think he's been horribly scarred by acid. Yet more labour under the impression that if someone sees his face that they will die in the next 24 hours.

They're all wrong. He just finds it incredibly comfortable.

Once the scion of a great, noble house of the Empire, Hammerhand is but a shell of the man he used to be. Now he exists only for carnage and slaughter in the field of Sporting Endevour.
He's called Hammerhand not for the strength of his blows, but for his utter inability to pick up a football if handed to him on a silver platter.

Killing Frost, the Winter that Walks, the Ice-Queens lover. Favourite amongst his team for his ability to keep beer cool even in the 9th Pit of the Nethervoid

A walking corpse, animated not by a Necromancers skill but from the raw power of chaos lightning. Red sparks jump from the bolts in his neck. His flesh is white & leperous in appearance, but don't be fooled... this corpse can pack a hefty punch.

No one's quite sure what Dudley is doing in this team. He has a square jaw, stunning good looks, and more muscles than brains. He helps old ladies take out their trash, does his taxes, and is honest as the day is long.

Of course, it might have something to do with the way his eyes light up with an elritch green glow when he steps onto a Bloodbowl pitch, and the respect that for some reason the rest of his team holds him in is no doubt tempered by the knowledge that he's maimed more people on the practise field than even Binky... but still. A scholar and a gentleman, in a team of ruffians and hooligans.