Russ finished checking that the inner workings of his musket were not obstructed in some way, something of an unnecessary ritual with his current weapon but not a bad habit nevertheless. The day he didn't check would be the day his weapon would fail. A faint smell of gunpowder emanated from the opened breech of the firearm, something that likely went by completely unnoticed by other patrons, busy as they were, but which Russ inhaled almost eagerly. The smell of duty. Next came the rest of his weapons. All 10 pistols, secured and in place, loaded and ready to fire. His sword slid in and out of the scabbard easy. His bayonet was handy and unobstructed.

The foreign soldier watched as the hooded, holier than thou idiot trying to lecture a mob obviously turned to flee from both the massive barbarian that had recently bludgeoned a man to death and the dragon both. Odds were good that anyone caught fleeing would make for an easy snack for the enraged beast, but Russ was not a betting man. Stupid to lose a soldier's salary on chance. He watched with disdain as the coward tried to threaten some woman that had bumped into him before leaving in a huff, once more saying stupid things that would likely get him killed were he to stay. In Russ' homeland these people often found themselves executed.

With one likely useless man out, Russ stood up, slung his weapon over his shoulder and walked straight to the wolf person that acted as bartender and seemed to own the place. The man appeared to be so taken in by the whirlwind of events around him that he'd just been standing there, without saying or doing anything, since the barbarian had killed the imperial. The musketeer took this to mean these things were likely unusual here. Good, he didn't think he could handle such things on a constant basis. 

"Barr-man", he said with a fairly thick accent. "I keep watch. In roof", he pointed upwards to illustrate. "Ladder? Stairs?". It was rather obvious this foreigner with a gun wanted some way to get to the roof of the establishment.