Galen raises the bow, noting the silvered chain binding about the grip of the bow, the white so blindingly pure as white hot steel fresh from the forge. Running his fingers along the surface, he check it over, familiarizing himself with it's build, settling with the weight of the bow. Shortly his fingers run across the bow string, it's inner heat almost radiating it's promise of painful fiery death to it's enemies. Testing the string he pulls back slowly, his shoulders flexing with the ease of long practice. Not quite enough to get the power he was used to, but why question serendipity. Lining up the shot, he drew the bow, marveling as the arrow formed inch by inch of swirling power solidifying into a singular spike of power ready to lash out. Keeping the arrow drawn, he stalks up the to cell door checking through the cell door's window for guards in the hallways around his cell. After waiting patiently for any guards in the area to move away, he checks the door to ensure that it's not locked, before heading out as stealthily as possible from his cell, a grim grin on his lips, knowing that the first chance he got, he was going to secure a melee weapon, even a dagger would do, though he would by far prefer to reacquire his possessions. Shaking his head, he hated to try to use a bow in such a confined space, like the tunnels of this place.