Mattingly is a young man of 22 years.  Despite his physical youth, the years have taken their toll on him already.

Raised on the frontier, Mattingly dreamt of becoming a great warrior, and while constant exercise and practice made him passable, and therefore worthy for advanced training, signs of magical abilities emerged in his early teens.  Initially disappointed, Mattingly tried to hide these talents.  Mages were considered too rare and too valuable to risk out on the battlefield; they always ended up as some adviser, or last chance defender, but the power would not be denied.

As preparations began to send him for training, Mattingly tried to resign himself to a life without dreams.  But the village elders were wiser than the young man had ever given them credit for.  Instead of being apprenticed to an old wizard, or even sent to one of the arcane academies, Mattingly was sent to Urtwield, a college for warmages.  The training was long, and at times brutal, as the information and skills he would need were pounded into his head.  When he emerged a few years later, exhausted but considerably tougher, he had achieved his goals of becoming a warrior, although considerably different than the one he had pictured as a child.  Thoughts of steel and charging horses had been replaced with spells of fire and force.  Forged weapons replaced by the most powerful forces in the universe.

But even with all his training, he was still too headstrong for his own good.  A short span of time in the local baron's army ended with him being expelled for insubordination.  He then spent a year or so traveling with a half-dozen adventuring groups, but eventually grew tired of the endless bickering amongst the amateur heroes and joined up with Commander Perry's forces as a kind of vacation; one where he could relax amongst discipline and good clean basic chains of command.

Mattingly stands about 5'8", weighs 130lbs and dresses in simple but sturdy clothes, typically capes color coordinated for the area in which he's working.  Except for his hands, feet, and face, nearly every inch of his body is covered in tattoos done soft blue ink, remnants of an abandoned scheme while at the academy.

He has a thrill for combat, but is not a vicious man.  He believes that combat should be held in reserve until more peaceful means have been exhausted.  Once that time comes, however, he does not hesitate to do what needs to be done.  And if there’s a thrill of pleasure in seeing his enemies slaughtered, well, that's just a perk of employment.

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That which does not kill me ... has made a grave tactical error.