Benedikt Schwarz inks the Ion Age II
They are the ‘IonFans’ tabletop gamers who adore the whole of The Ion Age setting. They adore the stories, models and more made by Alternative Armies and it makes us really happy when one of them creates their own take. Our thanks to Benedikt Schwarz for his hand drawn pen and ink illustrations and permission to share them for a second time. Following up on August 2025 these works have their stories by the artist and we have linked to the miniatures which inspired them from the 28mm Ion Age, 28mm Alternate Stars and 15mm Ion Age which match the drawings if you wish to put them on the table in glorious eternal metal!
Militia Art - IA115
I work long shifts in the foundry. That's my job. We make the fittings that go into tanks, carriers, maglev trains. It's a hot, back-breaking job. Poverty is hard. You're never able to make ends meet. You'd think they'd pay the blokes who make the shiny tanks for the Knights to ride into battle a decent wage. But here we are. I am a steel worker. At least, most of my days I am.
Then there's mustering day.
Two days every month, we open that one locker, take out the uniform, the Motty - that's the rifle we're issued, the good old Moth -, the backpack and helmet, and we report for duty. We try to stand in a line that's not too wobbly and listen to a smug Muster emerite shouting at us about what scum we are.
It's a different drill every time. Last month, for example, we got grenade tossing, with... interesting results. But it always starts with the Motty. Field-stripping, putting it together, then a few firing drills. When they are generous or if some Muster bigwig is coming to inspect us, we get to pop a few live rounds, but otherwise it's dry-firing. The Musterman will be shaking her head and rolling her eyes a lot at the way we handle the rifles.
If a Ret ever enters the barracks by mistake, everyone is getting all obsequious. We all take our helmets off, lots of bowing, yes, sire, no, sire, certainly, your knightliness, sir. They never have anything to say, just glance around, hardly noticing us and hardly listening as the Musterman tries to explain what we're doing and why. And then they are gone, and everyone breathes again.
---
I don't claim we're really trained soldiers. We are twice-a-month weekend soldiery. But without us, the Precinct would fall.
We are the first to respond. If ships appear in orbit, if drop-troops land in the industrial zones of the city, we open those lockers, fight our way to the Muster stations, and take up the fight. If we're very lucky there are still a few of us alive when someone with more firepower comes to relieve us. The Muster will be all gracious and condescending and say things like, "be glad real soldiers are here to pick up the battle" while we're tending to dead friends and horribly maimed co-workers. The Mustermen will then proceed to take the rest of the brunt of the fighting. Then the Knights swoop in, pop off the few remaining Maligs and get lauded by the Baron as the heroic victors.
And then the Knights throw a banquet for themselves, the Muster slink back to their barracks, and it's back to work for me the next day, because the boss tells me I missed the evening shift getting shot at and carrying my friend to the surgery.
Pertinax Art - IAFP16
The Pertinax! Of all the slave races of the Khanate, they are least treated as a slave race. Are they valuable as an asset? Enough so that they are //not// expended like chaff? Does the Khanate know something about them that makes it hesitant to enslave them? Are their minds immune to the same mental conditioning that drives the Betrayers or the maligs? Do they have a separate agreement with the Shia Khan, and are more partners than slaves? We don't know. And what we don't know makes us doubt.
They do seem to have an instinctive and overwhelming drive to build and understand technology. If left to themselves with a gadget, they will almost compulsively disassemble it, analyse it, put it together again, and try to improve on it. It is not an improbable theory at all that the whole of the Khanate's wargear may have been designed and built by Pertinax.
They treat other slave races the same they treat their devices: as machines to be used, and discarded or repaired as they see fit. They don't seem to have much regard for life or basic rights. But their relative freedom from the Khanate's mind control may make the Pertinax possible allies if we can convince them to renounce their allegiance to the Shia.
Malig Art - IA254
I'm a Musterman, and have been for thirty years. I've fought under the suns of dozens of planets, and I've seen everything the Khanate can chuck at you.
I've fought against their towering warlords. They are tough and carry heavy weapons, and it takes a lot of firepower to bring one down.
I've fought against their legionaries, eerie spindly creatures in glimmer suits and breather masks. They outwit you. They ambush you. They wound your friend and let him cry and whimper for help, to tease you out into the open for their snipers. You learn to hate that special kind of alien sadistic cunning. You also learn to respect it.
But worst of all are the maligs. I detest those gray-green vermin. They are every ugly, vile character trait rolled into one, cowardly, underhanded, spiteful, mean and vicious. They are small and gaunt, hardly taller than children, but their limbs have a wiry strength that is horrible. They stink. I can't describe the smell, but it's loathsome.
And what I hate most of all is their numbers. The Shia Khan literally drown you in them.
If they are on the attack, they swamp you faster than you can cut them down. You can own the fastest-firing gun and unlimited ammo; you can be the best swordsman in the Prydian precincts for all it avails you; while you get five with a single swing, the other twenty are all over you, grabbing, clawing, biting, stabbing, submerging you in a quicksand mire of bodies. You don't stand a chance.
If they are on the defense, they are like lice. You can saturate the area with fire-strike bombs all you like, and still some of the stinkers will survive in holes and folds of the land. Impossible to root out completely. Even after a full artillery volley, you still have to go over the same ground with squads of Mustermen and a fine-toothed comb to flush out those who are still alive and hiding. Killing legionaries is a battle. Killing maligs is a nasty chore that never ends.
I hate them with a passion.
Retained Art - LS001
“I enjoy what I do. It is an honour serving the Baron. But there are days I would rather have stayed in bed, thank you very much.”
Youxia Art - IAF119
"With the Xin Trade Fleets came strangers in armour. They did not mingle. They walked our planets, weapon in hand, looking for injustice to redress. They did not know our laws, and some caused trouble. Our Errant Knights confronted them, and found they lived by a code of honour and chivalry not dissimilar to our own.
I have met the Youxia, fought alongside them. And while their ways and customs are not our own, I would not mind having one of their order by my side when the Shia Khan invade."
"I've never met Ravenna, but when we started to muscle in on the chemicals market on Neo Xuhai, the Cyber clans sent her after our facilities. Next thing I know, the plant I worked in burned to the ground, and I was out of a job.
Two days later, I bumped into a girl on the maglev train by accident. I remember she had ice-blue hair. I apologised, and she flashed me a sad little smile. When I got home and took my coat off, I found that she had somehow slipped a note with a trideo phone number on it into my pocket.
I called the number. They hired me at a better salary than my old employers. Seems like I work for the Clans now."
