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Message: <blockquote data-quote="James Heard" data-source="post: 2966829" data-attributes="member: 7280">[Top Deck]Glaring at the rising sun, Dragen padded onto the top deck still tugging his antique hobgoblin armor onto his knotted frame still dangling his boots from one hand while juggling his bow-wrap and some remnants of last night's meal he took with him in the other. Ignoring everyone else in his rather bleary-eyed way, he walked to an empty spot on the deck and tossed his boots to the planks with a heavy thunk. Cracking his neck, he carefully unwrapped his bow and strung it with one of his practice strings. Picking out imaginary targets off in the distance, he began to methodically draw the bow to its full extension with a swift and deadly motion and then ease the tension back to vertical. Over and over again, sometimes with a frown and quick correction at his unseen target or to stop and belch and scratch like some shaggy beast, Dragen aimed his invisible arrows into the dawn.At the end of it, almost like a prayer, he unstrung the bow and placed his hoary cheek to its wood, silently communicating words unspoken. Once wrapped up in its familiar sweat-stained rags, the aging archer sat down upon the deck and finished the awful business of lacing his boots.</blockquote>