-<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/>Samuel's frown deepened as he contemplated his friend's words.  They certainly seemed to carry a bit more weight than those of strangers, but the matter that was being discussed was no small issue.  It was not something that one could enter into lightly.  Regret was a potent poison that a revolutionary could not afford to be stricken with.<br/><br/>"Iffin' there be a chance to 'elp the people in this city wot need it most, I'm in," he said after a long moment.  The steel of determination was creeping into his voice and his manner, bit by bit.  "But I don't care a jot 'bout the winnin's.  I make enuff ta liff by as it stands.  See that my share goes to the folks ov South End."<br/><br/>For the first time that night he looked upon the faces of the gathered nobility, as if only just now seeing them.  "I 'ave no luff fer yer kind.  Won't try ta 'ide it.  But I measure worth by the 'eft ov a man's deeds 'n the principles that 'old 'im togevver, not by 'ow red or purple their blood may be.  Ya haff our backs, 'n I won't stick a blade in yers."