• US$210

• 20 designs

• 2 designers

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Brief de Design Illustration

I would like to see a multi panel rendition of a scene from the novel. I am interested in very realistic images.This project also has landscapes and action—I have included two more short scenes with a bit more detailed instructions (the numbers are the panels). Also, I prefer the dialog script (or Narration) superimposed somewhere in the background, instead of dialog bubbles. I hope you are interested in these other scenes—they are representative of this project’s overall style. Wishing you the best, PJ
SCENE 1
[1–Landscape/distant-shot (beauty)]
Two men glide their kayaks over the placid early-summer waters of Baffin Bay, gazing in delight out across the shimmering dark blue waters at the snow-crusted peaks of the Cumberland Peninsula.
NARRATION [top of panel]:
""Greg “Mack” MacKenzie and Ben Drummond have made it—a dream come true—crossed into the Arctic Circle. Their successful completion of the Samsung project has freed them into a grand vacation of exploring the wilderness glory of Nunavut. Awesome.""
As they move further into Cumberland Sound, there are still plenty of midsummer icebergs and chunks to navigate around, the larger ones occasionally featuring polar bears sunning themselves lazily. In these untamed wilds everything, geography, water, flora and fauna wield powers on a scale that accentuates the meekness of man.
[2–Vertical/mid-Distance-shot]
([Optional]Glaciers tumble out of the palisade cliffs into the sound, icebergs cracking-off into thunderous explosions of polar water)
On the edge of a glacier they spy a bizarre, pyramid-shaped, turquoise blue… iceberg? Unclear if it is floating on its own or still attached to some larger frozen structure that reaches back and anchors to the land. Equally interesting is a mouth-shaped ice-cave entrance, dead center in the glowing lightblue berg, right at water level. The opening seems to beckon to them, a Jonah-friendly whale smile…
Ben shouts over to Mack,
“Well, …what’ya think?!”
“I dunno, …kinda sketchy. Wondering about the tide.”
Ben is already paddling in,
“No worries, …we’ll get in and out. C’mon, let’s take a look!”
[3—Close-up]
The look on Mack’s face is more wry than enthusiastic, but he follows. They need to duck their heads as they pass into the cavern. Mack reiterates,
“Man, this is cutting it close. If the tide’s coming in, we’re screwed…”
[4– Larger ½-page Panel]
The space inside is somehow much larger than would have seemed possible. Its ceiling manifests a gorgeous towering dome. With the glowing blue of the iceberg extinguished by tons of ice above, instead, luminescent colors of every shade emit an eerie but wonderful kaleidoscopic glow from the ceiling. Neon green speckled with orange, red rimmed with gold, purple streaks, and blobs of deep blue, pinks, whitish silver… the variety is endless, psychedelic. Upon closer inspection, the sources of the infinite spectrum of color appear to be algae and other sorts of fungal growth. Bioluminescence. As their eyes grow increasingly accustomed to the iridescent radiance, dripping stalactite formations and other bizarre sea-ice sculptures on the walls are also revealed—otherworldly to the max. The guys are stunned.
[5– Portrait] Ben gasps,
“My God, …It’s like one of Neptune’s moons.”
[6– Mack mid-range (in kayak)] “Or the sanctum of his deep sea boudoir… Out of this world! So glad we came in here, …must be different colored molds, or mushrooms, …or whatever they are?
[7– Mack Close-up (amazed)] “This place has been painted by God!”

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SCENE2
[1–Was sleeping in his tent…then shocked awake]
Mack is rattled awake by a woman’s blood-curdling scream outside, followed by an enraged male voice, yelling Inuit war cries and deadly threats. Mack scrambles for his clothes.
[2– page-width image, horizontal]
When he emerges from his cabin, realizing he has slept into the arctic twilight, flickering green ribbons of the Northern Lights illuminate a ghastly scene. A large Inuit man, very angry, is wielding a hatchet against the gorgeous night sky; and, in a fistful of hair, he has a partially clad, desperately sobbing woman wrenched to her knees in front of him. It is clear she is naked beneath her fur cloak, breasts trembling as she pleads for mercy. The man seems to be shouting an angry justification to the approaching villagers.
[3– full-body portrait]
(But what Mack then sees just beyond the tragic couple is an image that sears itself into his mind, forever.)
A silhouette against the undulating neon of the arctic sky: a man kneeling, kept from falling over by a long, whale-hunting harpoon thrust entirely through his chest—the spear’s end is stuck in the ground in front of the man, while behind him the barbed point drips black blood in the eerie nightlight, but not nearly as much as much blood as is cascading from the man’s gurgling mouth, as he coughs his final breaths. He grips the shaft, desperately, where it emerges from his solar plexus. Mack hears a strangled murmur force its way out of the choking blood… “Oh, God…!”
[4– Group image]
Alarm punches Mack right in the heart, bringing it to a sudden halt, like a high-voltage shock… It’s Ben!
The gathered crowd notices and moves towards the crumpled heap on the ground that is Mack’s dead friend—while the infuriated Inuit man, evidently Ben’s slayer, still drags the terror-stricken woman, still wields his hatchet. Mack is rattled out of his paralysis as he catches a few Inuit glancing his way; and the murderer seems to throw a threat over his shoulder in the direction of Mack.
[5– fleeing full body]
Pure panic starts Mack’s feet moving, dashing for his pack in the tent and sprinting, without looking back, into the black night, vaguely in the direction of town.

Here is the text describing another scene:
The line outside Rokkin Rokkets features a throng of every imaginable freak, demon, temptress and playboy of hedonism’s nighttime world; nonetheless, Goforth and her contingent move quickly inside. The director keeps her distance and Mac remains flanked by burly agents tasked with keeping him squarely on target, and away from any other female contact. They temporarily post-up at a yacht-sized bar overlooking the dancefloor and the surrounding perimeter of VIP booths. Mac is handed a stiff highball to buttress his resolve. Directly across the laser-lit, flashing glimmer of dancebodies undulating to the groove, Hiro “Vampi” Mizohari lounges behind mirrored sunglasses, idly straw-stirring a large multicolored cocktail and smoking a cigarette through an elongated gilt holder. The rest of her booth is filled with large, menacing dudes in coats and jackets that doubtlessly conceal some serious firepower. The teckno-beats pump at ear-splitting levels. The cocktail is removed from Mac’s stalled hand, as an agent nudges him onto the dancefloor and in Mizohari’s direction, “Act natural,” is the final directive. He weaves through the dance-mob, vaguely trying to add some white-boy shuffle moves and feeling anything but natural. As he draws nearer to the quarry, he confesses to himself: of all the women who have unexpectedly appeared on his radar recently, Vampi, by far, has the most tempting effect on Mac—the woman is hot-hot. Only a few yards away, he is catching more alluring details: ruby red lipstick applied thickly sucks at the straw, golden highlights in her spiked hair and ample jewelry twinkle around her sequined halter-top, glowing on milky bare shoulders. Lordy! She catches him staring and her bright eyes rise above the rims of her shades. In another second, she smiles... and stands up slowly, a final deep drag on the elaborate cigarette, eyes staying locked. She dismissively waves for her already concerned henchmen to clear the way and starts towards Mac! An entrancing moment later she has joined him on the dancefloor, smiling like a Cheshire kitty behind those mirrors. Mac feels the heat rising, but can’t help noticing over Mizohari’s delectable nape that her posse is marshalling out of the booth, adjusting jackets and belts and obviously scanning the area for threats. …This is all too sketchy, by a long shot! What has he gotten himself into? But now they are in very close proximity, indeed, and Vampi’s slow rippling dance is starting to rub against his thighs and chest. Helpless in countless ways, Mac shouts, “I like the way you dance!” Another devilish glance above the rims of her glasses, arms fluttering out from her sides, casting Medusan spells—she mouths, silently, “You should see me… fuck!” And she pops a finger between those kiss-sucking luscious lips. Mac swears he is going to pass out… Vampi’s crew is now closing in, things have gotten way too intimate. Where the hell is the CIA…? Mac wonders, desperately. Then, washed in an otherworldly mix of adrenaline and full-blast testosterone, Mac suddenly feels Vampi’s fingers lock behind his neck and sees those ruby lips, baring fangs, moving to suck his jugular. Oh God… At the periphery of his reeling vision, Mac catches sight of a CIA operative motioning him urgently back towards the bar, away from the swarming Mizohari crew, a few of whom clearly have their hands on barely concealed gun-butts. Yeah right, …how exactly is he supposed to escort Vampi away, …without getting himself killed?! Then he stumbles a bit under the force of her sensual onslaught, …and all hell breaks loose. As CIA agents materialize behind Mac, alarmed shouts from Vampi’s crew cut through the throbbing sound. Her eyes pop open into an entirely different kind of glare, lethal, and she begins to slowly back away, a shimmering fingernail wiping at her wet lips. The agents shove past Mac, half-heartedly contemplating still making a move for Mizohari—but she’s melted back into her henchmen’s protective cordon. Mac hears her angry voice shout what must be Japanese profanity, carrying violent orders… and her posse’s guns explode into a rat-tatting blizzard that shoots out the dancefloor lights, cascading glass from above and detonating the crowd into screaming panic. It’s all they can do to grab Mac and scramble for the safe escape of the waiting limos. Again: big-time yikes. Rough week for the Agency, …even rougher for Greg MacKenzie! But, however small a consolation, on the flight back it is revenge-time for Mac, aided and abetted by the fact that his pheromonal magnetism seems to have inexplicably faded. Now, Mac can even sit next to the Director and—as a function of his continued anger about his mistreatment and exploitation, now accompanied by vague threats of…..

Marché(s) Cible(s)

Young adult and up

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Aspect

Chaque curseur illustre les caractéristiques de la marque client et le style que doit transmettre votre design de logo.

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Exigences

Doit avoir

• Fairly realistic imagery— NOT ANIME/JAPANIMATION STYLE

Bien d'avoir

• Attention to the expressions on the characters faces, reflecting their emotions

Ne doit pas comporter

• Not too cartoony, realistic, body/face proportions