Wolfram Tjäder

Name: MJ
Age: Old
Contact: unbeliever
Other Characters: Bastien, Kostos, Redvers, Xio???
Interests: With him specifically I'm here to have someone in Research & Project Sashamiri. In general I am still waiting for the Druffy mission.


Name: Wolfram (Ram) Tjäder
Canon/OC: OC
Journal: soulrot
Race: Human
Nationality: Ander
Occupation: Grey Warden
Division: Research
Mage or Not: Mage
Age: Mid/late 30s… again...

History

Wolfram is originally from Siksjö, a village west of Nordbotten, which was once the last stop for merchants headed for Laysh before the long trek across the blighted steppe. Laysh has languished since the Voshai stopped coming in the Black Age; so has Siksjö. Why is anyone still there? Great question, don't ask, they'll be offended. After darkspawn got Wolfram's dad and older brother when Wolfram was four, he was raised alone by his mother Lovisa. His upbringing was poor, religious, sprinkled liberally with darkspawn threats, and a little fucked up. When he demonstrated minor magic as a child, Lovisa was terrified and pious about it, but he was all she had left. Her best attempts at getting it out of him via folk remedies and religion failed. The neighbor who snitched to the Templars did them both a favor.

The Hossberg Circle was a training ground for Grey Wardens with mandatory physical exercise and combat staff training, but Ram was a nerd and relieved to be safe inside a tower. Unlike many of his peers who were eager to be recruited, he half-assed the military training and read a lot of books. When he was told he was being recruited anyway, around 18 years ago, he said, "Oh... No, thank you," but they said it wasn't a request. At his Joining, the majority of people present had been his friends since childhood; the majority also died.

He was assigned to work under the archivist at Weisshaupt, replacing a predecessor assistant who'd recently been skewered by a hurlock. He became essentially a darkspawn zoologist, dissecting and cataloging darkspawn corpses or accompanying units on field excursions that were more about looking into weird darkspawn behavior or curious underground finds than defending helpless villages. He specialized in studying emissaries and their magic.

He was on such an excursion in the Free Marches when the Wardens had their coup in the Anderfels, several years ago. He elected not to return—a decision that was made while he was actually in the process of trying to return, if only to see what was going on, but intercepted and gently detained by the Inquisition on the way. Once they were satisfied he wasn't a danger, he joined the Wardens who have been working in the background at Valeska's Watch in Orlais all this time. But he's recently started hearing whispers, and he's come to Riftwatch in search of information he's learned they have. And to help, or whatever.

Personality

The Wolfram that Riftwatch is getting wouldn't be recognizable to people who knew him in the 9:30s. He used to be fun. Reportedly a little nuts, with touches of Steve Irwin in his approach to darkspawn—not the wrestling, the what a beauty attitude—but also friendly and quick to laugh, proud of the Wardens and his work, helpful to new recruits, and a beast at drinking games. He liked to name the darkspawn. He could be counted on to relay stories of humble people's battle heroics in their stead, often with hyperbole and some acting, and to fill silence with gruesome Ander folk songs. And all of this with a thick German-ish accent.

But the 9:40s have been eventful. His faith in the Wardens has been chipped at over the course of years and recently shattered; the work he was proud of is all in the hands of people he can no longer trust. He is taking it personally.

Now he's most his old self when he's working—when he feels like some progress is being made, his limited time not being wasted, and when he's focused enough to be distracted from the rest of it. In between, he's quieter, impatient, terminally unsatisfied, untrusting, and half-beaten. His once-cheerful flippancy about disgusting and mildly dangerous blight science is trending toward callus disregard. He'll still laugh at jokes, but most often in a single ha way, followed quickly by a return to business or distracted frowning.

Being a ceaseless workhorse does not come naturally to him. But he tries his best, which often means skipping social events that might have relieved some of the pressure until he fully cracks, loses his temper and/or locks himself somewhere to drink too much alone.

He's spent his entire adult life knowing he would die young and giving lip service to a willingness to do so. No greater sacrifice, Wardens deserved their power because they would die for it, etc. But he has never actually wanted to die and always been keen on hints it might not be obligatory after all. There's a part of him, equal parts arrogant and service-oriented, that still couches this in the terms of a greater good; he's smart, he has something to contribute, and it's best for everyone if he doesn't crawl into a hole and die prematurely. But on some days it's more that he's bitter about the Wardens and unwilling to die for them anymore. And on others he's simply afraid.

Opinions & Affiliations

Grey Wardens: He grew up in a place where they were defenders and overlords both. He only grudgingly learned to love being one of them himself, but he did learn, and now that he knows they are up to some real bullshit, he is extra miserable and betrayed about it.

Circles & Templars: He was grateful for his Circle—it was better than his home life—but he can't imagine having been somewhere like Kirkwall and was around when the Wardens assisted in sheltering mages who didn't want to fight. Feels some sympathy for Templars for all the ways they're similar to Wardens. It's complicated. It's also not his problem.

Nations: Semi-patriotic as much out of resentment as pride—if the Anderfels are shit it's because everyone else has abandoned them, no one else could endure what they have—but again, politics are none of this business.

Races: Wardens take all types; he's chill. But he doesn't consider elven liberation his business anymore than human border disputes.

Religions: Raised intensely Andrastian. He still talks like a believer and is in many ways culturally conservative, because he's Ander that way. But his actual deep-down faith in the Maker is ehhhhhhhhhh.

Strengths & Weaknesses

Wolfram is a Circle-educated, Grey Warden-trained mage who's focused his energy on research rather than darkspawn-slaying. He's competent enough in the field to not be a total drag to have along, but combat isn't his strength. Specifics:

Mage: He knows Mind Blast, Arcane Shield+Wall, and Elemental Weapons from DAII's Arcane tree, the Weakness section of DA:O's Entropy spells—in summary, he's good for buffing companions and weakening enemies more than for doing much active damage himself. He also knows Dispel for lab safety purposes, how to create elementary palm-sized fire/ice/electricity balls, and the basic brute force "shove this rock to make a bridge" telekinesis.

He's studied some blood magic in a theoretical way, to the extent it's relevant to understanding (or trying to understand) the mechanism of the Joining and so on, but he doesn't know any of the Blood Mage spells and has a cultural/religious aversion to learning.

But the moment he has access to Riftwatch's files from Soldier's Keep, he will begin acquiring this half-custom Warden-specific blood-based specialization:

• Dark Sustenance: A blight-based alternative to the typical blood mage's magic-for-health trade, in which a self-inflicted wound can power some spells. Taint for mana trade. I hate both of those words.
  
• Bloody Grasp: Blight-based spirit damage to a target, at the cost of some of the caster's health.

And based on Avernus' use of blood magic to live for over 200 years and not undergo the Calling + his prior research + maybe assistance from Riftwatchers with relevant info, he'll eventually be able to add:

• Dissidence: Disrupts the blight-reliant magical connection that facilitates the darkspawn hive mind. Cast on himself, a brief reprieve from the Calling; cast on darkspawn or controlled Red Templars/Wardens, a brief reprieve from blight-reliant mind control. Both at the expense of a chunk of his health. It's a much milder form of what Avernus accomplished, good for a few minutes of quiet/lucidity at a time. Not a permanent fix.
  
• Resistance: Corruption-specific healing that increases a living being's ability to resist the spread of the blight, at the expense of harming their health in other ways. It doesn't reverse corruption or cleanse anything, just diverts more of their energy/immune function toward slowing the spread. Regularly casting it on himself (once or twice a day), combined with his Warden resistance, will slow his slide toward ghoul enough to give him maybe 12 or 18 months instead of six. Casting it regularly on a non-Warden who's been recently corrupted won't save them but might give them an extra week or two. In the meantime it will cause lethargy and a weakened immune response to normal illnesses.

The rest of his metaphorical skill points have gone into researching the nature and behavior of darkspawn, especially the capabilities and counteraction of the Blight-based magic used by darkspawn. He would love to learn to use Blight magic—something even an untainted mage was able to do with help from the Architect—but currently doesn’t know how. (If he ever learns I will submit a spec request.)

Researcher: He's an academic who's spent most of his years in Weisshaupt observing, dissecting, classifying, and otherwise studying darkspawn. Unfortunately, plenty of things were above his security clearance, especially as Corypheus began interfering. So he's not arriving with many/any answers about Corypheus or red lyrium or anything like that, just a helpful background for blight and darkspawn related matters.

Combat: He's had some degree of regular regimented combat training since he arrived in the Circle, he’s good with a staff, and he’s unfairly tall and built for someone who spends so much time taking notes. But due to his limited spell arsenal, his role is typically to make enemies easier for other people to kill darkspawn (or whoever) while he knocks any that come close to him in the heads with his staff. He doesn't rain fire on anything, and he's very reliant on having allies.

Grey Warden: He can sense darkspawn and wade into blighted areas without immediate risk to his health. Being above the law and entitled to conscript people/goods is iffy these days, given everything. But he could try. Downsides: he's vulnerable to mind-control by Corypheus, and darkspawn can sense him as strongly as he can sense them, so if they're in the area, there's a good chance they'll go out of their way to harass him and whoever he's traveling with.

Also, he's dying. Sort of. He's slowing the Calling with a regimen of powders and potions similar to those that kept Felix Alexius' illness from progressing as quickly as it should have—very unbecoming of a Warden, who's supposed to go die with dignity—but without more drastic measures, he doesn't have all that long before he starts going white-eyed and rambly and eventually loses his mind.

Misc: He speaks Ander as a first language, Trade as an inferior second, and he can read and write Ancient Tevene for research purposes.

Inventory

• Warden armor and a few changes of clothes.
  
• A bladed staff that looks like this but lacks the special effects.
  
• Dissection tools and a magnifying glass.
  
• A collection of tinctures and powders, for his health.
  
• Journal, a few personal books, basic travel gear, etc.

Motivation

He's coming to Riftwatch rather than remaining with the Inquisition to (1) assist with blight-related research and (2) help himself to their notes from Soldier's Keep.


I. "They are not usually alone," Wolfram says.

Stay on your guard goes without saying—though it is a task he is leaving up to the others, apparently, with his staff lying a bit out of immediate reach while he crouches next to the corpse of the shriek. He's unfastening its straps and ties with an efficiency that lets him match rhythm to the steady drip of water down one of the cave walls, until he can remove the chest pieces and the two blades strapped to its arms.

"We clean those up," he says, "someone can play with them. It is probably not a good way to fight if you care about not getting hit yourself. No choices but sharp punching. But it looks very scary, and—there we go."

A crust of red lyrium across one side of the shriek's chest to its armpit, like a cluster of glittering warts. He sits back on his heels to consider it.

He says, "Disgusting," but it sounds a little like a compliment.

II. In the dining hall, he invites himself to the seat across and just askew from someone who's sitting alone, with a look that tries to communicate—through an unsmiling little nod and brevity of eye contact—that he doesn't intend to subject them to conversation. It's only optics. Less pitiable, to sit alone with someone else. He's silent while he takes a string-bound notebook and ink pen out of his bag, silent while he eats with one hand at a steady clip and more intermittently scratches magical equations with the other, silent when a loud burst of laughter from a nearby table makes him go still while he stomachs a mixture of annoyance and jealousy and nostalgia.

It's only when his companion is stirring to leave that Wolfram looks up. His own dinner has disappeared with notable efficiency; he eyes what's left of theirs and reaches halfway for a scrap of bread.

"I am conscripting this," he says, hand still hovering to allow them to refuse.