Today i found, that i need to hurry it up with Xavis! soooooo, im going to show you my script for the first comic pages:

Tears from the sky splash the sides of the young man’s face, though he doesn’t flinch, shake or stir. He stares at a square hole; in it shards of glass glitter like jagged jewels in the pale twilight. Nothing moves him, not the wild wind winding through the dark and narrow twists and turns of the alleyways, nor the occasional thunderous clap from the rolling, stormy sky. He just stands there, a solemn shadow in the mist of the rain; watching, wondering, and remembering; the broken window, now a black hole so much like him.
He turns his head to the right to address the soaked hawk on his shoulder nuzzling him for comfort, its once sleek red luster now maroon velvet, drenched by the rain. The hawk looks up at him as if to say “what now?” The solemn face of the young man breaks out a smile in response and he turns to leave. His dull red cloak flows behind him whipping the rain about. Like a shadow, it mimics his every move only seconds in delay. He strides away, taking one last glance at the window.
The young man splashes down the long errant alleyway gazing up at the rain. A drop bombards his eye and he retaliates with a hard rub of his hand. The hawk lets out a taunting squawk. The young man seizes this opportunity and shakes his head, his hair whips the bird across the face in a watery slap, nearly knocking it of its post on his shoulder. They both look at each other, the young man’s right eye red from rubbing, and the hawk’s eyes blinking from the water. But they can’t hold their angry faces for long. The faux anger in their eyes quickly turns to warm appreciation. Their bright eyes become even brighter as a loud bang of thunder lights the alleyway in a luminescent glow.
The young man breaks out a chuckle and rubs the bird’s head hard and long. The hawk, now a mess of wet feathery fluff, shakes itself together. The sprinkles of water spike the young man’s face, as another stroke of lightning flashes down the alleyway. In that brief flash of dull gold light, three bat-like shadows dart along the drenched sandstone walls. They fly past and behind the young man and then are consumed by the darkness behind them. The young man stops, the hair on the back of his neck is standing on end.
He raises the hawk with his shoulder and shouts. “Tharamous 307 this is a direct order!”
The hawk’s eyes glaze over with a white shroud, its beak opens up and a low dull hollow voice speaks. “Voice recognized…Captain Galist, place orders…”
The young man, Galist, glances behind him, slowly, being cautious not to make any sudden movements, points to a gargoyle on a grey building built into the alley wall and speaks loud and fast. “Tharamous 307, your orders are to stay above on that gargoyle and record the fight. After, you are to fly and report to General Duke Dedunye, of the D Riders Mercenary squad. You have the coordinates, do you not?” Galist rolls up his cloak with his free hand and grabs at something on his large white belt.
Tharamous 307 replies, “Yes I possess said coordinates….Orders received. Tharamous unit 307 is to observe Captain Galistulo Selephantis’ battle with the enemy. Then Tharamous unit 307 is to locate and report to General Duke Dedunye of the D Riders Mercenary squad. Are the previous orders correct?”
“Ye-“ Something glimmers from behind, a ghostly silver blade zings viciously at Galist’s head.
However, he moves his head to the right with cat like speed, and the blade zooms by. The hawk flies off and lands on the gargoyle it’s now camera like eyes beaming down at the alleyway. Another clap of thunder, but the part of the alley behind him doesn’t glow like the rest. Zing! Three other blades from three other directions launch in with speed so great they shake from their own momentum. Galist jumps straight up, above even the buildings. He grabs at the object on his belt. His cloak gets sucked in like a vacuum to the object. The blades collide, but they do not fall. Lightning strikes again, showing the shadowy figures that hold the blades. Galist’s bare chest breathes in deep. A large black snake like scar winds up his arm. His muscles seem small, but they are just tense. His body shines in the lightning and moonlight like a bronze sculpture. His hair flows like the wind, his wolf like ears twitch with excitement. He lets out a real smile, for the first time in a while, and he says to himself. This is going to hurt….them.
He jolts down at the shadows, for now he can see them in the madly flashing lightning. The shadows flip back into position like black puppets. They lift their blades, ready for Galist’s landing. The storm instantly stops, and gives way to the intense white light of Xavis’ moon, Utangu. The blades reflect the moonlight, casting little fairy like reflections that dance on the walls. Galist, directly under the moon, appears to be a shadow himself, but his white shiny smile sets him apart from the seemingly lifeless creatures below. He gathers momentum in his fall and finally lands in the middle of the three pitch black figures. The shadows raise their swords and start toward the still crouched Galist. As they bring down their swords, they stop just above his head; their hollow white eyes bulge and come to rest upon the rust colored blade in Galist’s hand, dripping with black blood. The shadows dissolve into the air, and their blades hit the ground in a loud clanging crash. The smell of ash floats through the air with the remnants of the shadows.