I kind of want him to have been involved in the Cambodian/Saigon evacuations, the Tehran mission, and the Grenada Invasion just so he'd have different cultural experiences with magic.
I can assume, for most, that the sight of an enraged wizard is
the most terrible thing they'll ever see. Our resident spellcaster,
with his considerable height, dark eyes and foreboding glower,
is no exception. I've seen brave men -- men who have stared
unflinchingly down the barrel at certain death -- cower in his
presence.
The wizard is a terrible sight to behold.
But I've seen worse.
I've stood at the edge of jungle, staring into the inky black.
I've listened for the sound of the creature that stole orphans
from the streets in Saigon, a demon with a leopard's spots, but
possessing eyes more cruel than any natural born beast.
I've watched a sandstorm rise amid the still desert air, the
swirling wall of stone and grit writhing like a serpent as it
worked its way into the choppers' engines. Watched as the
motors died, sending my brothers-in-arms hurdling to the
desert floor, as the wind howled in triumph.
I've stood watch over the broken walls of a fallen fort, as the
shadows in the darkness shifted and prowled, the native things
of that foreign shore as unwelcoming as the soldiers we'd slain
taking it. I listened as the night took the others, one by one,
wondering all the while when the things would come for me.
So yes, the wizard is terrible.
But I've seen worse.
