I'm in need of an artist or several capable of adapting my stories. Show me previous works of yours and message me if interested. You will be given a scene from one of my works and will be tasked to bring it to life with your skills.  

If you do not have any, or wish to see if our styles mesh, below you'll find scenes that you can adapt in any way you see fit. Comics, portraits, animation, etc. I want to see your ability to adapt before I see how you respond to direct oversight.
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Finally, he made his way to the very front of the ship. Turning his sights on the horizon in front of him. Past the water and through the mist he could make out the dark outlines of a city in the distance. Though where one would expect to see lights from windows and cars, he was instead greeted with the sight of a city on fire. Great pillars of smoke rose high into the night sky. Ash began to fall on the deck like leaves from a dying tree. A gust of wind brought with it the stench of fire, death, and the screams of the damned. 

His journey into this waking nightmare was far from over.

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The cold bite of the northern wind sank deep into my bones as I trudged along the snow-covered path. Though my body was weak from hunger, and my lips cracked open, exposing the soft, red, flesh to the elements, I continued ever onward. For I was so very close to my destination. As the colossal monolith ahead of me stood waiting, dark and silent as a shadow, I could not help but think back to how I was set on this course of action.

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 There it stood. A mountain, unlike all the others that surrounded it. It was completely untouched by the elements. Not a single snowflake touched its surface. There it was, dark as a starless sky. Clouds swirled around its summit like a crown fit for a god.

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At the outskirts of the broken, skeletal, remains of a city, the diplomat stood. At her back, stood the sum total of the military’s might. The capital ships above blotted out the sun like dark clouds itching to rain death upon their enemy. The soldiers below trained their weapons on me while they waited for the order they all hoped to hear. And the diplomat stood at the head, front and center, proud and defiant. Curious, I approached her. She stepped forward and asked a single question.

“What do you want?”

“What I’ve always wanted,” I replied. “To die.”