I know what it sounds like.  To be completely honest at the time I never even questioned it, it was only later when I dicovered exactly what Neil Edwards was that I looked back and wondered if I hadn't been kicked in the head during the earlier fight. His crew members looked stupified, too stunned by the turn of events to do more than gawp like landed afrotrout.

"You can't just offer some random a job like that!" the one called Orm demanded, not quite pointing his gun at me.

"Why because my exhaustive search worked out so well?" Neil asked putting a boot on his former seneshals head and turning the unseeing gaze to face Orm. He thrust out both hands in a 'ta-da' motion, like a carnvival magician announcing a trick. The bounty hunter scracthed his forhead with the barrel of his gun.

"NO, no, he has a point," he admited to the wounded halfling. The ratling could only scream as I yanked the strap on the dressing tight by placing her knee on his stomach and hauling with all my might.

"Ah my frakin' ribs you bloody blond bint!" the ratling yowled.

"Yeah, yeah thank me later," I retorted, though to be completely honest I maybe had heard something crack. Sue me its not a prosecutorial court. I stood up, my mind belatedly processing the fact that Neil was a Rogue Trader, a number of pieces of information fell into place, though the picture was far from complete. A sudden clatter of automatic fire echoed out from a nearby tunnel, proof that the arbites, or cultists or indeed both hadn't yet given up.

"Well I accept, and as my first action as seneshal suggest we get the Holy Throne out of here."