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desert gang by jamga
desert gang
hey gang!
since one week and for one another week I'm teaching concept art and all that stuff in a very cool and great school of art/video game/VFX in Paris, NEW3DGE. (www.new3dge.com/)
So I have made some little things during my teaching class to entertain the students while they are working on their environment class weeks.
here is a little Zbrush/photoshop concept.
hope you like it
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The Shaman - STORY LINE by jamga
The Shaman - STORY LINE
here is the story for my shaman girl for my Project : UNDISTRESSED DAMSEL
hope you like
English and french version available.



ENGLISH

I will try to tell you her story, even if it may seem unlikely, it's all true. I heard it from a man who heard it from a woman whose grandmother met this force of nature. And when I say force of nature, I mean in the literal sense.

It all began in the late 16th century during the colonization of Brazil and its regions. The gold and riches of this land attracted all kinds of greedy men and people seeking new lives and hope.
His father was a wealthy ship owner and traders of spices but, like many men at this time, he had a penchant for alcohol and loose women.
His wife had died in childbirth, and he had never really taken the time to talk to her daughter, preferring to leave her to the care of his tutors and governesses.
Early arrival in Brazil Aghostina dreamed of wonderful scenery and finally be able to get out of her gilded cage she hated so much. Perhaps his father could become less strict with her education once established in their new lives.
Indeed. Excited by this new life, her father gave her more freedom. Aghostina became more and more familiar with local customs and was quickly appreciated by some of the locals.

His father meanwhile did his business with a lot of determination, perhaps even too. He had a nose for good deals and good deeds. He soon crumbled under his fortune and was eventually
supported by the royal family of Portugal as the sole importer of spices.
This sudden rise in the upper echelons eventually attracts the attention of his countrymen and the hatred and bitterness of some local feeling robbed of their land and their wealth.

The night of her 14th birthday, the night was interrupted by a crowd whose anger was galvanized by former employees of the Agostina's father. The crowd rushed in and slew all that came before them with their large machetes. Men, women, children, servants, even animals were not spared.
The Aghostina’s father took his daughter in his arms and ran into his office upstairs to find a safe shelter for her and equip himself with fire weapons. Alas, he could not counter the anger of the crowd that lynched him, in front of his terrified daughter.
She witnessed the whole scene. She saw her father be beaten, suddenly slashed by machetes and dragged to the grand chandelier of the house there to be hanged.
The poor child did not breathe a word, hidden under a large armchair; she remained petrified, unable to make any sound. The crowd began to disperse, suddenly realizing the horror of what they had done, each throwing errors on the other.
All went as quickly as they came, all but four hooded men, not local, European. They were looking for the girl and eventually flush her out in his father's office.

They grabbed her and began to beaten her in the stomach and the head, one of them pointed out that she was very pretty and it would be a shame to lose such virgin.
Aghostina struggled like hell, she wounded one in the face but could not last long when the blade of one of the other men nail into her chest near the heart.
At that time, she could not tell herself if it was the trauma she had suffered, the emotional shock, if she had dreamed or if it was real, but, she saw the trees of the garden, outside, exploded the wooden walls of her house, catching the four men and shredding them in showers of red blood that poured over the green foliage of their branches.
Aghostina could not move and was bleeding to death, and, even if she could, she was in a state of shock at such a spectacle.

In the doorway, as she lost consciousness, she saw the bent silhouette of a woman resting on a long stick, taller than her. When she closing her eyes, she felt that she no longer touched the ground, as if someone or something had lifted her to protect her
When Aghostina awoke, she was in some kind of of cave made with earth, branches, and foliages. The place was warm. She was sweating, she was weak, but she was alive. She saw a poultice of leaves around her wound.
Turning her head she saw the face of the old woman she seen in her home before sinking.
She was a woman of a very advanced age, with long gray hair hanging down her body and it looked worn over time. Her face reflected wisdom but her eyes were glowing in such vibrant red, which startled Aghostina.
The old woman spoke to her in a dialect she did not know, but her words were so quiet and peaceful that she knew she had nothing to fear from her , and she fell back into a deep sleep.

Weeks and months had passed; Aghostina knew she could not return home. Her whole family was dead, murdered, and the fact that she witnessed all of it that night made her a witness to kill. Then she learned the dialect of the old woman. It was a forgotten dialect, even for the Indians of the Amazon forest. The old woman was a shaman, the receptacle of the spirit of the forest and she was dying. According to her, she had almost 300 years, a fact that Aghostina refused to really believe. Gradually she learned from that old woman everything she knew, a distant knowledge, shrouded in mystery and ancient magic.
On the eve of her 20th anniversary the old woman gave her his staff which symbolized for her the maintenance of the natural order and the direction in which the forest must always grow.

Aghostina does not really understand what it all meant at the time. It was not until the next morning, when she found by herself while looking in the water that her eyes were now like the old woman, a deep red. And everything became clear to her.
She ran to join her benefactress, to show her, full of joy what had happened to her. But, she just found the lifeless body of the old woman who was now returning to the dust.

The wind picked up in the trees, the birds were silent, the forest was complete still and she understood at that precise moment what it all meant.
As if nature itself was explaining to her what she had always missed. The old woman had given her life six years ago, to save a young child that she did not know and to make of her his successor.
The six years spent with her was only the end of an eternal cycle, a passage that should eventually also be undertaken.
Today was the day of her 20 years, and today was the day of her rebirth as the guardian of the forest. Today she would abandon her name and she would become a ghost in the forest.

Four years had passed since that day and men became increasingly hungry for wealth, venturing further and further into the deep forest. The lucky few who came back spoke of a woman, a virgin according to them, whose beauty was equaled only by her cruelty for anyone daring desecrate the forest.
These stories began to spread, and more and more European, convinced of their overwhelming superiority began to finally be pissed by this woman and wanted to show her that men are not here to taking orders from locals and even less from a virgin and her forest…

None of these expeditions never returned. Indian tribes avoid talking about it but sometimes you can hear them whispering that an army is being set up in the forest and that it'll soon go to war, led by a ghost with red eyes red as the ... war.


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FRENCH

Je vais essayer de-vous conter son histoire, même si celle-ci peut paraitre invraisemblable, tout est vrai. Je tiens ce récit d’un homme qui le tient d’une femme dont la grand-mère a rencontré cette force de la nature. Et quand je dis force de la nature, je parle au sens propre du terme.

Son histoire commence à la fin du 16 e siècle pendant la colonisation du Brésil et de ses contré.
L’or et les richesses de ses terres attiraient toutes sortes d’hommes avides et de gens cherchant et espérant de nouvelles vies.

Son père était un riche armateur et négociant d’épices mais comme beaucoup d’homme a cette période, ce dernier avait un penchant avide pour l’alcool et les femmes de joies. Sa femme était morte en couche, il n’avait jamais vraiment parlé à sa fille, préférant la laisser aux soins de ses précepteurs et gouvernantes.

Arrivée au Brésil la petite Aghostina rêvait de paysages merveilleux et d’enfin sortir de sa prison dorée qu’elle détestait tant. Peut-être son père serait-il moins sévère avec son éducation une fois leurs nouvelles vies établis.
Effectivement, grisé par cette nouvelle vie, son père lui laissa plus de liberté. Aghostina se familiarisa avec les coutumes locales et fut très vite apprécié par une partie des locaux.

Son père quant à lui menait ses affaires de mains de maitre, peut-être trop même. Il avait le flair pour dénicher les bonnes affaires et les bons contrats. Il croula bientôt sous la fortune et fut bientôt soutenue par la famille royale du Portugal comme unique importateur d’épices.
Cette soudaine monté dans les hautes sphères fini par attiser, et la convoitise de ses compatriotes, et la haine et la rancœur d’une partie des locaux se sentant spoiler de leurs terres et de leurs richesses.

Le soir de son 14e anniversaire, la soirée fut interrompue par une foule dont la colère fut galvanisée par d’anciens collaborateurs du père de la jeune fille.
La foule se rua à l’intérieur et il tuèrent tout ce qui se présenta devant eux a grand coup de machettes.
Hommes, femmes, enfants, domestiques, même les animaux ne furent épargnés.
Le père d’Aghostina pris sa fille dans ses bras et couru dans son cabinet à l’étage pour la mettre à l’abri et s’équiper de ses armes a feux. Hélas, il ne put contrer la colère de la foule qui le lyncha sous les yeux effrayé de sa fille.
Elle assista à toute la scène. Elle vit son père roué de coup, entaillé par des coups de machettes en furie et pendu au grand lustre de la maison.

La pauvre enfant ne souffla mot, caché sous un large fauteuil, elle resta pétrifiée, incapable d’émettre le moindre son.
La foule commençai à se disperser, réalisant soudain l’atrocité de ce qu’ils venaient de faire, chacun rejetant la fautes sur l’autre. Tous partirent aussi vite qu’ils étaient venu, tous sauf 4 homme cagoulé, pas des locaux, des européens.
Ils cherchaient la jeune fille et finirent par la débusquer dans le cabinet de son père.

Ils l’attrapèrent et commencèrent à la rouer de coup dans le ventre et dans la tête, l’un deux fit remarquer qu’elle était bien jolie et que laisser une vierge comme cela se perdre serait dommage.
Aghostina se débattait comme un diable, elle en blessa un au visage mais elle ne put résister longtemps quand la lame d’un des hommes perfora son thorax près de son cœur.

À ce moment-là, elle ne put dire elle-même si c’était le traumatisme qu’elle avait subi, le choc émotionnel, si elle avait rêvé ou si c’était la réalité, mais elle vis les branches des arbres de l’extérieur perforer les murs de bois de sa maison, attrapant les 4 hommes et les déchiquetant dans des gerbes de sang rouge qui se rependait sur les feuillages verts des branches.
Aghostina ne pouvais plus bouger et se vidait de son sang, et même si elle avait pu bouger elle était en état de choc face à un tel spectacle.

Dans l’encadrement de la porte, alors qu’elle perdait conscience, elle aperçut la silhouette d’une femme courbée, appuyé sur un long bâton, plus grand qu’elle. Au moment de fermer les yeux elle sentait qu’elle ne touchait plus le sol, comme si quelqu’un ou quelque chose l’avait soulevé et mis en sécurité.

Quand Aghostina se réveilla, elle se trouvait dans une sorte de grotte de terre et de branches, il y faisait chaud, elle transpirait, elle était faible mais elle était bien vivante. Elle aperçut un cataplasme de feuilles étranges autour de sa plaie.
En tournant la tête elle vit le visage de la vieille femme qu’elle avait entre aperçue chez elle avant de sombrer.
C’était une femme d’un Age très avancé, de longs cheveux gris pendant le long de son corps et ce dernier avait l’air usé par le temps. Son visage reflétait la sagesse mais ses yeux étaient rouge incandescent, ce qui fit sursauter Aghostina.

La vieille femme lui parla dans un dialecte qu’elle ne connaissait pas, mais ses paroles était si calme qu’elle sut qu’elle n’avait rien à craindre d’elle et elle sombra à nouveau dans un profond sommeil.

Les semaines et les mois passèrent, Aghostina savait qu’elle ne pouvait pas revenir chez elle, sa famille entière était morte et le fait qu’elle soit témoin du meurtre de son père et de toute les personnes qui étaient chez elle cette nuit-là faisait d’elle un témoin à éliminer.
Elle finit par apprendre le dialecte de la vieille femme. C’était un dialecte oublié, même pour les indiens de la foret amazoniennes. La vieille femme était une shaman, le réceptacle de l’esprit de la foret et elle allait bientôt mourir. Cette dernière selon ses dires avait près de 300 ans, ce qu’Aghostina se refusait à réellement croire. Petit à petit elle apprit auprès de cette vieille femme tout ce que cette dernière savait, un savoir lointain, enveloppé de mystère et de magie très ancienne.

À l’aube de son 20e anniversaire la vieille femme lui donna son bâton qui symbolisait pour elle le maintien de l’ordre et la direction vers laquelle la foret doit toujours pousser.
Aghostina ne compris pas vraiment ce que tout cela signifiait sur le coup. Ce n’est que le lendemain matin, quand elle découvrit en se regardant dans l’eau que ses yeux étaient devenus pareil à la vieille femme, d’un rouge profond que tout devint clair pour elle.
Elle courut rejoindre sa bienfaitrice pour lui montrer, pleine de joie ce qui venait de se passer mais elle ne trouva que le corps inanimé de la vieille femme qui retournait a la poussière.

Le vent se leva dans les arbres, les oiseaux se turent, la foret fit un silence complet et Aghostina compris à ce moment-là ce que tout cela signifiait. Comme si la nature elle-même lui expliquait ce qui lui avait toujours échappé. La vieille femme avait donné sa vie il y a 6 ans pour sauver cette enfant qu’elle ne connaissait pas et en faire son successeur. Les 6 années passées avec elle n’était que la fin d’un cycle éternel, un passage de flambeau qu’elle devrait un jour elle aussi entreprendre. Aujourd’hui était le jour de ses 20 ans, et aujourd’hui était le jour de sa renaissance en tant que gardienne de la foret. Aujourd’hui elle abandonnerait son nom et ne elle deviendrait un fantôme dans la foret.

Quatre années passèrent et les hommes devenaient de plus en plus avides de richesses, s’aventuraient de plus en plus loin dans la foret. Si bien que les quelques chanceux qui revinrent parlèrent d’une femme, une vierge à les entendre, dont la beauté n’avait d’égal que la cruauté pour toute personne profanant la foret.
Ces histoires ont commencé à se propager, et de plus en plus d’européens, persuadé de leurs écrasante supériorité se mirent en tête de retrouver cette femme et de lui montrer que les hommes n’avaient d’ordre à recevoir de personnes et encore moins d’une vierge et de sa foret…
Aucune des expéditions sauvages ne revint jamais, les indiens évitent d’en parler mais on peut entendre parfois ces derniers chuchoter qu’une armée est en train de se monter dans la foret et que cette dernière vas bientôt partir en guerre, mené par un fantôme au yeux rouge…rouge comme...la guerre.
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  • Listening to: the glitch mob
Hello everyone, it's been a while since I wrote here.
in fact i'm not a good speaker so I prefer shut my mouth most of the time but, now, I have an importante announce to make.
I have made, at last, an art page on facebook that you can follow.
I will fill in with old and new stuff, personnal, professionnal gig, illustration, talks about my process and all.
you will see also some never posted images before on it. Like researches for covers, illustration and why I did that choice or this one.
I will update it more often than my deviant art page, so don't hesitate to follow me on facebook
it will be a pleasure for me to have you there.

here is the page.
www.facebook.com/pages/Art-of-…

 It's a start but I have already some cool stuff on it I think.

thanks a lot and see you soon
Skeleton King by jamga
Skeleton King
so here is a little doodle from the "before bed moment"...like, when you have and idea and...ho well let's just doodle it in 5 or 6 min, just the basic shapes...and 1h30 later you put the final touch on it...typical.
sorry for the size resolution. i painted it like that...72 dpi, 628x877 pixels...was not mean to bu pushed this far :/
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Undistressed Damsel valkyrie bannerhd by jamga
Undistressed Damsel valkyrie bannerhd

[ENG]

Her name was lost and forgotten years ago.
Now she’s only known as the Valkyrie or the Widowmaker. All depend if she fights beside or against you.

Her story is very tragic like many stories in the grand North. She was a loved wife and mother of a 11 years old girl. Her husband was a proud but loving farmer.
She lived in one of the peaceful clan of his land but she was also known for her nurse abilities on the battlefield.
After a raid on severals lands she came back with her friends and brother in arms to find that her village has been turned to ashes by a rival clan during their absence.
She ran to her house to find his husband brutally killed and mutilated and her daughter raped and slaughtered.

After that she became mad and filled of vengeance. She travelled to one of the strongest and fierce clan in the cold fjord and became a Skjaldmö, a Shield Maid.
She trained her mind and her body again and again during five years, she learned to kill, she learned to provide pain to her enemies and she learned to like it. The nurse in her was dead the day she lost her family.

after these five year, she left the fjord to find, hunt and kill, every men of the clan who attacked her village and ruined her life.
her hunt last for 3 years but eventually she did it, one by one, and after killed each man responsible for the death of her loved ones, she went to their families to bring them their heads.

the only words she ever prononce are like death to those who hear it
- " I will kiss your childs for you tonight when you come down to see Hella"
and the cowards dies with the certitude of her killing his family after him, that’s what she wanted, and even she kept her dead words, she never harmed them.

Now that her vengeance is fulfil, she understood that she can't turn back on the path she’s created years ago, so, now, she’s a fierce and lone merc, fighting with her shield and her two-handed hammer.

her name came from several tales and legends that you hear near the fire, people said they saw her, breaking the skull of a giant in one perfect strike…but there is no such things like giants, right ?



[FR]

Son nom fut perdu et oublié depuis des années maintenant.
Maintenant elle est uniquement connue en tant que La Valkyrie ou la faiseuse de veuves. Tout dépend de si elle se bat à vos côtés ou non.

Les fondations de son histoire sont pareilles à de nombreuses histoires tragiques qui peuplent le grand Nord. Elle était une femme aimé et aimante et mère d’une petite fille de 11 ans. Son mari, un fier fermier l’aimait de tout son cœur.
Elle vivait avec sa famille dans un des clans les plus calmes de son pays mais elle était connue aussi pour ses qualités de guérisseuse sur le champ de bataille.
Après un Raid sur plusieurs terres, elle revient avec ses frères d’armes pour trouver que son village avait été réduit en cendres par un clan rival pendant leur absence.
Elle courut à sa maison pour trouver son mari brutalement tué et mutilé ainsi que sa fille violé et massacré.

Après ça, elle devint folle de vengeances. Elle voyageât jusqu’à un des plus dur et féroces clans dans les Fjords et devient une Skjaldmö, une femme guerrière.
Elle entraina son esprit et son corps, encore et encore durant 5 ans. Elle apprit à tuer, elle apprit à dispenser la douleur à ses ennemis et elle apprit à aimer ça. La soigneuse en elle était morte le jour où elle perdit ce qu’elle avait de plus précieux.

Après ces 5 années, elle quitta le Fjord pour trouver, traquer et tuer chaque hommes qui avaient attaqués son village et ruiné sa vie.
Sa traque dura 3 longues années mais elle finit par tous les tuer, un par un. Et après avoir tué chaque homme responsable de sa pertes, elle se rendait chez les familles de ses derniers pour leurs apporter leurs têtes.

Les seuls mots que les gens l’entendent prononcer sonne comme pire que la mort pour eux
- "j’embrasserai tes enfants pour toi ce soir quand tu descendras voir Hella"
Et le lâche de mourir avec la certitude que sa famille le suivra dans l’autre vie. C’est ce qu’elle veut… et même si elle a toujours gardé sa promesse, elle n’as jamais fait aucun mal à ces enfants.

Maintenant que sa vengeance est remplie, elle a compris qu’elle ne pourra jamais revenir en arrière du chemin qu’elle a créée des années plus tôt, maintenant, c’ est une féroce guerrière, solitaire, une mercenaire, qui combat avec son bouclier et son marteau a deux mains.

Son nom vient de différents récit et légendes qu’on entend au coin du feu le soir.
Certains disent l’avoir vu de leurs propres yeux fracasser le crane d’un géant en une seule et parfaite attaque…mais, il n’existe aucune choses comme les géants, pas vrai ?
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deviantID

jamga
GRAY / GARY
Artist
France
Current Residence: france
Favourite genre of music: rock, metal, punk, OST, and a lot of others kind of music.
Favourite style of art: concept painting, speed painting, chara design.
Operating System: windows XP 1.8...1G ram ...A true fossil
MP3 player of choice: Ipod touch 8G
Personal Quote: "si vis pacem para bellum"
Interests
  • Listening to: the glitch mob
Hello everyone, it's been a while since I wrote here.
in fact i'm not a good speaker so I prefer shut my mouth most of the time but, now, I have an importante announce to make.
I have made, at last, an art page on facebook that you can follow.
I will fill in with old and new stuff, personnal, professionnal gig, illustration, talks about my process and all.
you will see also some never posted images before on it. Like researches for covers, illustration and why I did that choice or this one.
I will update it more often than my deviant art page, so don't hesitate to follow me on facebook
it will be a pleasure for me to have you there.

here is the page.
www.facebook.com/pages/Art-of-…

 It's a start but I have already some cool stuff on it I think.

thanks a lot and see you soon

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:iconlikozynika:
LikoZynika Featured By Owner Sep 23, 2014  New member
watch back please ! 
Reply
:iconfenrysk-art:
fenrysk-art Featured By Owner Sep 12, 2014  Professional Digital Artist
I finally got to play through Remember Me and as I played through it I remembered all the concept and asset work you made for it. Beautiful game.
Reply
:iconfaennas:
Faennas Featured By Owner Sep 3, 2014   Writer
Hello, I am a french writer of fantasy. (so sorry for my english, je ne sais pas si vous parlez français)
I look for a illustrator to create some very simples sketch of my characters.
I love your style, continue ! Answer me if you are interested in my proposal. :) (Smile)
Reply
:iconstormbringerr:
stormbringerr Featured By Owner Aug 17, 2014
jamga , do you have your Dune Tribute for sale as a print ? if so what are its dimensions? height x width.
Reply
:iconjamga:
jamga Featured By Owner Aug 26, 2014
Sorry, I sell no prints =)
Reply
:icontriforcechampion:
TriforceChampion Featured By Owner Jul 27, 2014  Student Writer
Lovely Star Wars work, it's just amazing
Reply
:iconjamga:
jamga Featured By Owner Aug 4, 2014
thanks a lot
Reply
:icondanielhooker:
DanielHooker Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2014  Professional
Just finished Remember Me. You guys did a fantastic job!
Reply
:iconjamga:
jamga Featured By Owner Aug 4, 2014
glad you liked it
Reply
:icondanielhooker:
DanielHooker Featured By Owner Aug 4, 2014  Professional
Absolutely, I hope we see more outta you guys soon. Your art and design is refreshing and some of my favorite stuff ive seen in games in recent years.
Reply
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