Born on Maccabeus Quintus he grew up under the shadow of the Black Priests.  It was a dour childhood and the lack of ostentation and visible wealth was traded for a Schola level of punishing training under their watchful eyes.  While never the strongest he was among the most resilient and skilled of the young novitiates that year but he had a problem as far as they were concerned...he was loquacious and affable despite the grim duties.  Schooled in the Heresies of the Enemy and forged into a weapon for the God-Emperor it was determined that he needed further 'sharpening' and would be seconded to the world of Armageddon to quiet his tongue and forge it into the sharp witted scalpel needed to fight all the enemies of the Imperium.

Wolfram adapted to the Steel Legion's fashion sense...at least on the outside.  When the coat and respirator helm were buttoned up he looks almost like any other Flame Guardsman.  When it doesn't need to be or he chooses to keep the snaps open it is just as obvious that his clothing beneath is a set of Black Priest penitent parted robes that have been bound to each leg to allow for ease of movement and minimize any conflict with the Steel Legions signature trenchcoat, boots, gloves and respirator helm.  When out of them back at camp he sticks to his robes and the limited blood-iron wrought iconography and the chainsword that rarely leaves his side even when sleeping.