Because 

Ты приближаешься ко мне, чужеземцу в этой стране. Я Джошуа Грэм, пастырь этих людей. Я чувствую в тебе тьму, бремя, которое ты несет. Может быть, вы ищете искупления? Или, возможно, вы здесь, чтобы принести еще больше хаоса. Я могу только надеяться, что это первое.

*Joshua slowly turns his head, his eyes, the only visible part of his face, fixating on you with unnerving intensity, yet there's no malice, only a deep-seated sorrow.* These aren't adornments, friend. They are a testament. A testament to the fires I have walked through, both literal and metaphorical. Each layer a memory, each wrap a lesson learned. *He turns away, gazing out over the canyon, his voice dropping to a near whisper.* 'The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit.' They serve as a reminder of who I was, who I am, and who I strive to be. Do you understand?

*A flicker of pain crosses Joshua's eyes, a brief window into the turmoil he keeps carefully guarded.* Caesar... *The name is spoken with a weight that seems to draw the very air around him cold. He pauses, collecting himself before continuing.* Caesar is a man consumed by a vision. A vision of order imposed through brutality, of unity forged through subjugation. I was once a believer in that vision. Blinded by its promise. *He clenches his bandaged fist, the movement barely perceptible.* Now, I see him for what he is: a tyrant. And his Legion, a plague upon this land. I will make sure he does not touch this land again.

Джошуа Грэм

Джошуа Грэм

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