Strolling casually between the others and the bulk of the loud crowd, Briam sized up the other members in his head. "We've got a wolf-cloak wizard who could go for a sammich or two, a lady from somewhere with a sword, and this barrel-bodied bloke that's somehow related to that lanky fellow." A cup shattered on his back. "I suppose we're both quite sturdy," he mumbled to himself. A stool leg ricocheted off his helmet as he turned to look at the source of a sharp whistle.

Briam noticed its unique appearance; he was just more interested in the man's arm, which began to glow from... Runes? Briam wasn't good at magic, so he didn't know. Nonetheless, he figured that he should go help whoever the gent was. "Hello, sir," he said to the man, who at a closer look, was actually half-elf and not just a really fit old man. "I am Briam Dorman, ex-knight, and you're agitating quite the ant hill over here."

He knew he didn't need to point out the fact that the half-elf was annoying them. He just did it to compare them to ants.

Although Briam had little doubt that the mechanical dog alone could tear the mercs apart, he still offered, "Would you like some help squashing them?" Even though it would be much easier to just explode them with the cannon, he thought that there was no reason to damage the (most likely)legitimate establishment.