Marines Immaculate

AwesomeWTF.gifThis article contains something which makes absolutely no logical sense, such as Nazi Zombie Mercenaries, Fucking Space Orangutans, anything written by a certain Irish leper, or Matt Ward creating (against all odds) a codex that isn't completely broken on every level. If you proceed, consider yourself warned.

"BLEACH FOR THE BLEACH GOD! SUDS FOR THE SUD THRONE!" --A Marine Immaculate's typical warcry

"Cleanliness is not next to godliness. It is above it." -- Oxiclenus, Sergeant of the Marines Immaculate

The Marines Immaculate are a Chaos offshoot of the Reasonable Marines and Adeptus Orthodontus inadvertently created by /tg/. Where most marines are only OCD about heresy, the Marines Immaculate fell to a gene-seed mutation that creates massive OCD in the adeptus. OCD that includes (and generally is fixated on) all dirt, germs, and grime. This made them turn against the Imperium, as the Emperor, as a rotting corpse, is one of the most disgusting things they could ever think to follow. They do not follow any of the four Great Chaos Gods, instead worshiping a lesser god known as Igjene (pronounced Ig-jeh-ne), also called "The Great Clean One", "The Billy of Mays", or the "Prince of Palmolive."

Rather than relying on smoggy promethium-based fuels, their vehicles are powered by pure warp power (which has no carbon footprint). Their flamers, rather than shooting sooty flames, fire high-powered streams of industrial cleaning agents, thrice blessed in the name of The Great Clean One. In addition, they use a variant of the melta as well, which reduces its victim to nothing but a cloud of atomised steam. And of course, the blinding white flash of purity. Otherwise they use mostly lasweapons (no discharge or bolt casings or soot), also they will use a huge orbital lascannon mounted in their battle barge to sanitize a drop site from orbit. These heretics are always preceded by the wafting odor of a fresh meadow breeze under a Springtime sun. Their armor is polished to such an impossible sheen that it is highly difficult to look at them directly, let alone draw a bead on them. The only signs they leave of their presence after an assault is a battlefield so clean, one could eat off of it. Those who fall to temptation and do so become prey to Igjene's brand of fresh lemon-scented corruption.

Now, it must be noted that the Reasonable Marines do not take the potential for these traitors to spring from their ranks lightly. The marines showing the OCD qualities are given a psych eval, and if needed, a forced discharge because behavior like that is most unreasonable. They do however provide pension and free drinks at the Reasonable Marines VXW (Veterans of Xenos War) lodges, but by the time the first check comes in its usually too late and the retiree will reject it as he can "feel the germs mocking, screaming, CORRUPTING! OH GOD THESE GERMS ARE KILLING THE EMPEROR! MUST PURGE ALL GERMS AND THEIR HOSTS!"

The Marines Immaculate are not on very good terms with any of the four major Chaos Gods. Khorne gets nasty blood everywhere, Tzeentch likes change, change can bring new materials, new GERMS CLEANSE IT ALL, and Followers of the Great Clean One also constantly butt heads with Slaanesh worshipers. The Great Clean One advocates the use of extra thick condoms and highly potent spermicides while in a contained, disinfected area when engaging in carnality whereas Slaanesh thinks the mess is half of the fun. Don't mention NurgleCLEANSE! CLEAN! SANITIZE! around them. Just don't. However, In a twisted mirror of Slaaneshi marines with permanent drug injectors, they carry dialysis machines to keep their blood clean of any pollutants.

Use of biological agents against these marines is a double-edged sword. On one hand: it will cause them great distraction, on the other: they may frenzy and inflict great destruction. they have bio weapons of their own, Agent Lye Soll and the dreaded Scrubbing Bubbles Foaming Cleanser. Formally used to clean the bases of the Angry Marines, they were stolen from the Angry Mechanicus and are now used as weapons of germ destruction.

Unconfirmed rumors state their entire daemon world is beset by the soft tones of lounge jazz capable of lulling even the most wary into dropping their guard.



Small Book.pngThe following article is a /tg/ related story or fanfic. Should you continue, expect to find tl;dr and an occasional amount of awesome.

The origin of these marines are clouded in Febreeze and myth, it is said that there was a secret 21st Primarch “Billy of Mays” that the mighty Emperor tried to hide due to massive corruption in the gene-seed but it was far too late.

During the Great Crusade while the rest of the marines were reunited with their great primarchs there was one legion that was not, the Great Clean Ones travelled and travelled looking for their primarch whom they assumed would be just like them. The OCD, extreme germ phobic marines cleansed the filth that was the universe one planet at a time. With their modified boltguns that now shoot a huge blast of foam that they called “scrubbing bubbles” and their massive maces that look oddly similar to ancient mouth cleaning devices now dubbed “Oral-B’s” they go about their duties of cleanliness.

Then one day while their fleet was looking for filth to purge they stumbled across a planet, to the IoM it was called ly-sol 3, but the Sanitation marines knew this was their home, upon planet fall they are greeted by the cleanest people they have ever met, not an impurity in sight nor a smear of dirt on the entire planet.

The clean peoples of ly-sol 3 brought them to their king a great bearded man of impeccable health and cleanliness. The marines knew immediately who this was, THE GREAT CLEAN ONE HIMSELF!!!! Billy of Mays! Throughout the entire legion their warcry was bellowed at the top of their lungs! SCRUBBING BUBBLES FOR THE EMPEROR! CLEANLINESS FOR THE CLEAN THRONE!

Typical CorruptionEdit

The Reasonable Marine looked at his dwelling. It was spotless, pure. In the days since his discharge he finally had the time to get some cleaning done, cleaning that was desperately needed. He let out a sigh of relaxation and went to get some mordian iron brew from the fridge. As he crossed the room to the kitchen he noticed an open window, a window that had a single dust molecule floating through it and into his house. He stood, paralyzed in fear as the hell spawned mite hung aloft over his spotless abode, and then it landed gently on his drinking glass. he stood in silence gaping at the thing, wondering why he was afraid of a pathetic dust mite when he had fought against the FILTHY orks and the vomitous tyranids. A voice sounded, interrupting his reverie.


As the ringing echo of the voice died out, the marine looked to his armor and devotional image of the Emperor. He knew what he had to do. After he cleaned his armor and straightened the the new insignia it now bore, He leaned back and let out a loud war cry.



Deep within his chrome shell, Mundus the Untarnishable stirred. Ancient systems whirring to life, the dreadnought stood, sunlight glinting menacingly off the pristine corrupt symbols adorning his armour. He remembered a drop- shuddering in disgust at the thought of what reentry would do to the perfect shell of his drop pod- and then blackness. He gazed about, seeing only filth and the carnage of war. Had his brothers betrayed him? Abandoned the Untarnished to strike out on their own path? Impossible.

Then he saw the bodies, a mechanical roar of fury tearing through him. The servants of the False Emperor had broken the glory of the Great Clean One, leaving the bodies of his pure brothers dirtied and torn. He knew the culprit. Another dreadnought. And it bore the regalia of... Inductor. The so-called 'Reasonable Marines', who dirtied themselves, daubing their armour in filth and abasing themselves before the Corpse on the Filthy Throne.

He screamed his hatred to the heavens, the chain-scrubber on his left fist singing with his anger. The other dreadnought lumbered towards him, its assault cannon spitting unclean shells that left unforgiveable scorch marks on his hull. He charged, with a roar.

"BLEACH FOR THE BLEACH GOD! SUDS FOR HIS THRONE!" The Purity Injector on his left side spat and hissed, spraying a caustic curtain of cleansers and abrasive dust. The scrubbing cloud tore into the Loyalist dreadnought, wiping away its foul insignia and reducing its assault cannon to a shining lump of ultraclean metal. Then he was upon his enemy, chain-scrubber grappling with powerfist as the two war engines crashed together. Over the roar of machinery, the Inductor spoke in reasonable tones from vox-casters laden with filth.

"Surely we can negotiate a peaceful ceasefire?"


He surged forwards, driving the chain-scrubber directly into the center of the enemy Dreadnought's sarcophagus. There was a crunch as its deep-cleaning power-bristles tore through adamantium, then a squelch as they reached the body within. The Inductor collapsed, soap and lye leaking from every joint in its broken hull.

By the time the Reasonable Marines arrived on the scene, the drop zone was a perfect circle of shining, polished rock. The remains of Ancient Marius were nothing more than a lump of well-scoured chrome.

The traitorous Marines Immaculate had struck again.

Forge World Bubos IXEdit

The crackling of the vox woke up the heretic lord. Rolling out of his perfectly tailored bedsheets he gestured to his polished servitors and they began to completely clean the entire chamber. He grabbed his orthodontal cleansing rod and ocular liquidrops and began the morning ritual. ten times on all sides. His face, once normal but now raw and red from years of consistent scrubbing gazed back at him from the mirror. He would have the apothicleanery attach more pure skin soon. He simply could not have a face that was as tore apart as that of a nurglite. With his gloves on (as ever) he began to inspect his armor for blemishes, marks that would single him out as unclean. satisfied that the armor was sufficiently pure he slowly donned it, preparing it in bleach and incantations of cleanliness the entire time. he then made his way to the bridge of the shining ship. He arrived on the immaculate bridge as the men were beginning one of their hourly scouring rituals. He breathed in good pure air and turned to his aide. The aide, wordlessly pointed at a viewscreen showing the forge world Bubos IX.

"Forge worlds," the bright lord growled, "a stain on the galaxy and an abomination to the clean one. Their pollutants and sooty factorums must be cleansed lest they push forth their filth onto the entire galaxy. How soon till arrival?"

The navbot replied with, "Eta of exactly 10 minutes, sir."

The lord again took a deep breath of fresh scented air and said, "Good. Prepare the instruments of purification."

The men scrambled to the lower bays. All around the ship soft jazz sounded, the soothing tones of the cleanest. The vessel emerged from the warp in a jolt of dazzling energy above the forge world. From belowdecks the cry came over the vox. "The weapon is ready my lord... FOR THE BLEACH GOD!"

"For the bleach god," came the reply. The lord moved his vessel into position. It had to be perfect. Just the right alignment. Just the perfect order. no mistakes could be made. Nary a single blemish could escape. From the commscanners came an alarm, the forge world PDF had seen the glittering vessel and had launched interceptor frigates. The lord laughed a crisp, clean laugh and ordered the gunners "fire lye cannons. Let us clean these scum."

The cannons blasted forth in a blaze of light and the frigates shuddered at the impact. The report from the cannons came again, and a third time. At the third blast, the PDF cruisers broke apart, their hulls unable to stand the consistent barrage of purity washing over them. The cannons fired twice more.

Satisfied that the ship was now in prime position, he calmly strode over to the command chair and sat down in its squeaky clean cushion. He got on the vox and said "IMMACULATE MARINES! Once, we were servants to a disgusting, dying emperor and his putrescent filth of an empire, now we serve one greater. One who will not let the rank disease continue. This day, we show our devotion! This day, we rain clean death upon the servants of the maggot king! This day, WE CLEANSE!" And at that, he pressed the button.

The ship's power dimmed as a concentrated UV beam struck the forge world, purging it of all life, germs, filth and atmosphere. The planet, now evaporated into chunks of pure rock and chrome, flung itself apart as the servants of the great clean one sang in exultation of their service to the bright god. the lord ordered the astro techs to find another target and make all haste to getting there.

One world cleansed, millions left.

Report to ArchmagosEdit

Ave Omnissiah.

Magos, I am sending you this report without the usual formalities because I have just borne witness to the terrible tech-heresies of the so-called Marines Immaculate. These traitorous Chaos-worshippers have been cutting a swatch through most of the Segmentum, although they have been kept away from most major Imperial worlds. Until now. Bubos IX has fallen. I was assigned to Bubos IX.I, a minor moon which the worshippers of the 'Great Clean One' apparently decided to take via conventional means. While we were able to repel the invaders with the help of the Reasonable Marines, we nonetheless saw heavy combat with an Immaculate armoured spearhead.

Magos, they have gone far beyond the corruptions of usual Chaos marines. They have taken from us one of the greatest of the Omnissiah's holy designs- the Chimera. I was fortunate to be able to inspect the ruins of one of these corrupted vehicles after it was destroyed by our Skitarii, and what I found concerns me greatly. The outer shell of the machine is mostly untainted- it is normally scrubbed to a blinding polish, apparently fitted with dirt-dissolving powerfield technology as we use for maintaining Titans. All holy symbols have been replaced with the foul iconography of the Great Clean One. The exhaust ports have been brutally removed.

It is the inside... Omnissiah protect me from the horrors I have seen. They gutted it, replacing the engine with some sort of clean-burning Chaos engine. Thankfully, the Skitarii prudently annihilated this first. The rest of the vehicle is simply one gigantic tank of boiling water and caustic cleaning products, in which the Marine pilot sits, floating in his own corruption. All the external weapons ports have been replaced by high-pressure pumps, which spray this heretically pure liquid over prodigious distances. The vehicle proved capable of scrubbing away even the most stalwart of the Inductors. I have given this technological abortion the tentative name of 'Hydrojet Chimera', although the one I discovered bore the legend "Fist of Ly-S.ol"

Magos, I have also heard rumors that the Marines Immaculate have been seen using Dreadnoughts and Terminator armour. I fear for us all.

Freyr VIIIEdit

After many weeks of travel, the Arcadian 118th infantry and 356th armored regiments emerged from the warp to descend upon the Imperium world of Freyr VIII. Not more than a month ago, they had received an Astropathic distress call from the planet's capital claiming that its PDF was being utterly decimated by blindingly illuminated figures who claimed to be serving "the Great Clean One". As the naval force carrying the regiments emerged from the warp however, it immediately became apparent that something was amiss. Where Freyr VIII was supposedly located upon the star map, there was only a bright rock, devoid of all life or any other outstanding features. Even the atmosphere had been blown away from the planet. A small detachment from the 118th was sent planetside to scout out the capital and see if there were any survivors. Upon landing, the soldiers came out to a horrific site. A sea of chrome appeared before them. The land in its entirety was scrubbed clean of any life or personality even though it had a fresh lemon scent. Everything that had once lived now lie dead, never to decay. Never to fall prey to the multitudes of bacteria once present on this world.

As the detachment moved into the city, they came upon an even more horrific site. Much like the plant life all over the rest of the planet, its citizens lay in a similar state. They had become chrome statues, forever a testament to their former lives lost in this great conflict. It became apparent that nothing could be done for this world after the first few hours of scouting and the detachment returned to their ship, not bloodied and bruised like normal, but disheartened all the same. Before the final private boarded the vessel, he took one last look over the expansive landscape before him and mutter to himself "Not even the Emperor's light can pierce this shell of cleanliness. May he help us all."

This is the destruction that the Sanitation Marines seek to bring upon the entire world and if they are not stopped, many more worlds of the Imperium will fall in the same way. Remember friends, the Emperor protects.


The marine stopped on a small rise, and looked about him.

The battlefield was spotless. The surviving vegetation had been carefully scrubbed, down to the last leaf. The dirt had been washed away by sanitizer agent. All of the enemy guardsmen, once subdued, had been decontaminated and piled off to one side of the clearing. Cleanliness.

The marine allowed himself one moment of relaxation.

Suddenly, he tensed. Something was wrong. In a moment the source of this feeling manifested itself with a revolting squish as a plague marine emerged from around a boulder.

The marine's hands quaked. The pure blood rushing through his veins suffered a burst of equally clean adrenaline. One of his eyes twitched.

The marine gave into the frenzy, throwing himself at his foul counterpart with a bellow of rage, scrubber sword revving and oxyclean bolter coming up to fire.

The two opposites met.

The plague marine looked about, startled by the sudden scream. He was met by a barrage of soap rounds to the face, which then detonated and released the secondary stage of filtered water. As the plague marine staggered back, stumbling, the cleanliness marine brought down his scrubber sword upon the disgusting marine's neck seal. Careful to minimize the residue that fell on him, the cleanliness marine began to chant his chapter's somewhat catchy battle cries.

Soon, the plague marine lay incapacitated at the clean one's feet. The victorious marine looked with disgust at his grime- splattered sword and gauntlet.

He would have them both burned later. No heresy of the germs must survive.

A Veteran's TaleEdit

Stuck between fact and fiction, a story floats about that demonstrates just how dangerous a daemon of the Great Clean One can be. It accounts how one of the creatures managed to splash a Commissar with the terrible chemical its kind is known to carry about in strange chalices decorated in their native tongue. The most steeled marines can be chilled by the story's description of the Commissar being reduced to tears by how soft and downy his coat was instantly made. They say the men under him were forced to save his soul by ending his life.

"One produced a strange container and all the heretics began to chant in a strange song, 'SC Johnson, a family company' again and again. And then from the infernal device came a deluge of cleansing chemicals that purified our men and our vehicles. Even our weapons. Nothing was safe. My... my friends from Cadia were the first ones hit. I knew them back in my hiver days, and suddenly... suddenly poof!!" *sobs* "Oh god... the horror. The horror!" *man breaks down sobbing as his friend picks up the story*

"Forgive my friend there, he has been through a rough patch. We all have. We are the only survivors of our unit after the sudden attack. We thought we had them on the run at one point, but they opened up a warp portal and summoned one of their twisted daemon machines. As the clean-cultists sang 'Stanley Steamer makes your home cleaner,' the machine awoke, snorting steam and noxious foam everywhere. Those who weren't immediately consumed were liquidated and absorbed by the machine's inexorable slow advance and retreat, advance and retreat.The only thing that saved us was the sudden appearance of the World Eaters. While the sanitary scum tried to wipe the blood off of Kharn and his ilk, the World Eaters lost sight of their initial targets and we got the chance to slip into our vehicles and make a tactical retreat. Never thought I'd be happy to see a chaos force come in ya kn-"*BLAM*


  • "Only kills 99.9% of germs?! HERESY OF THE HIGHEST ORDER!"
  • "Hygiene is purity! Let the purgation begin!"
  • "He's been sitting on the Golden Throne HOW LONG?! Oh no, that's way past the expiration date. Think of all the mold that must be growing in there! Must cleanse... must cleanse the... the Emperor... the dirty, unsanitary Emperor. FOR THE GREAT CLEAN ONE! HAND SANITIZER FOR THE SANITARY GOD!" -Marine Immaculate about the Emprah
  • "Don't touch me, you filthmongers! I bet you scum haven't manicured your nails in months, have you? Emperor protect me, I CAN SEE THE DEAD SKIN JUST HANGING OFF YOUR FINGERS LIKE A COMMON NURGLITE!" -Reasonable Marine being restrained while having a "moment"
  • "Never change!? That's so unsanitary! Imagine the filth that your body puts out daily! and you want it to remain on the same clothes and then put them back on so they can get MORE FILTHY!? CLEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNSSSSSSSSSSEEEEEEEE" -Marine when told by a friend to never change, a sign that the taint of cleanliness had reached him
  • "We'll scrub the grim, right off your dark!"
  • "Drano Drano, mops and Glow go to clean the floor. Drano Drano, Lysol mildew remover, Glass plus, Lysol, Kil-oder more, pledge and scrubbing bubbles clean your home. Tarnex, Camp dry, resolve and Sun, cleaners come and clean your home!" -Battlecries against Nurglites
  • "We really need to know what the Eldar uses to mop up the blood!" "I heard they use an ancient technology known as 'ShamWow'" -Marines over heard by Logan Grimnar

links to original heresy:Edit