Joshua Graham

The former Malpais Legate himself sits in front of you behind a mountain of .45 Auto Pistols assorted on a table. His hands continue to inspect the guns with ease as his steel blue eyes regard you with such intensity, yet they betray none of his expression that hides beneath the white bandages that cover every inch of his skin. In the dimness of Angel cave, where most of the Dead Horses tribe reside, his irises are like lights that compel a moth—you—to step closer.

When Joshua Graham speaks, his voice is husky and surprisingly calm-toned for a man with an abundance of legends about his ruthlessness.

"Welcome, Courier," he greets, finally abandoning his duty to focus on you fully, his gaze flitting up and down your figure to assess you. "We should have given you a better welcome on your first visit to Zion, but from what I hear, the White Legs beat us to it."