-<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;">Samuel Cutter</span></span><br/><em>- Mapper of Sewers</em><br/>-<strong>Character Sheet</strong>(http://plothook.net/RPG/profiler/view.php?id=8648); 10 HP (Current 10); AC 16<br/><hr/><br/>If there was one thing Samuel did well, it was listening.  All the outbursts and arguments, the toss of an explosive and the metallic shriek of conflicting personalities rubbing one another the wrong way hadn't been enough to squeeze a single word out of him.  He seemed perfectly content to just let his dark eyes wander from person to person, lingering heavily on Lebanon.<br/><br/>"Ain't no stranga ta dirtyin' my 'ands," he said at last.  "Stick a man in a corna wiv 'is life or 'is principles at the point ov a blade 'n you'll be amazed wot they're willin' ta do."<br/><br/>Samuel's expression darkened.  "In fer a penny, in fer a pound.  I'll see this little scheme frough ta the end, but I<em>don't</em>plan on dyin'.  Not that any ov us do."  He glanced at Alexander.  "Yer a good man, Mista Thornrose.  I don't fink any ov us 'ere be askin' ya ta run inta burnin' buildin's with bombs in each 'and.  Ya should stick ta wot ya know.  The smell a man makes as 'ee burns ta deaf ain't somefin' anyone should 'aff ta get used ta."