Dear Space Marine – Chlamydians

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The following is a reprint from Unwinnable Weekly Issue Twenty. If you enjoy what you read, please consider purchasing the issue or subscribing for the a month. 


Editor’s note: Each month, Unwinnable’s resident advice columnist dispenses wisdom from the ages in response to your email and Twitter questions. He just happens to do so from 38,000 years in the future. With the help of the ancient computer CHAD and the mecha-tentacled Magos Valence Mak, Tech-Marine Aurelius Ventro of the Imperial Fists delivers the enlightenment of the Emperor to your unworthy human eyes – as only a Space Marine can.







Dear Space Marine,

I’m a little embarrassed to write to you, but I have no one else to help me. My girlfriend just told me she has Chlamydia. She claims it’s my fault but I’ve never had sexual relations with any other girl. I don’t know what to do! I love her but don’t know if I can stay with her now that I know she’s been with other men. Help me, Space Marine! I have nowhere else to turn!!

Your friend,
Anonymous (via Gmail)


Dear Pathetic Human Male Cowering Behind a Veneer of Anonymity,

First, as you know: I am a Space Marine. I have not been, and never shall be, “your friend”.

Now, as to your query. Again I find myself perplexed that humans of your time directed so much of their industry toward primitive mating rituals. Throne, you lot would have been easily conquered. You were already enslaved by your genit***00101010110 T4LK 4B0UT PU$$YWH1PP3D***als.

More perplexing, however, is your reference to your intended mate “having” Chlamydia. For in the grim darkness of your far future, one does not “have” Chlamydia – one is Chlamydian.

Were your feeble augurs able to pierce the Warp, you would perhaps have glimpsed a binary star system in the Segmentum Obscurus. Around these two suns orbits the planet Chlamydia – womb to some of the rawest, ruddiest warriors of the Imperium. Though they are but mortal, the Chlamydian regiments are known throughout the Emperor’s domain for their burning, throbbing desire to bleed the enemies of Mankind.

In the capital city of Trachomatis sits the Venereum, seat of power for the planetary governor, the noble Sir Vixx. From his throne overlooking the frothy River Proctitis, he commands the Strategic Tactical Initiative – perhaps the most infectious recruitment model in the Segmentum. This rigorous training regimen leaves many recruits weeping, oozing with sores.

I have witnessed their training exercises in person, Pathetic Anonymous Human Male. It is not a pretty sight. In melee combat, the Chlamydians wield vicious rods, attempting to penetrate their opponents’ box formations. A single prick from a poison-tipped staff can leave a festering, pustulent wound. (Hence their battle-cant: “Just the tip!”) And their ranged attacks are no less savage: Fertile lands become barren as the Chlamydians discharge their energy weapons, inflaming the area.

But where the Chlamydians truly prove their mettle is in sniffing out the foul taint of Chaos. Witness their destruction of the corrupt Azithromites, or their campaign of death among the Doxcycline Cult. As it is said throughout the Segmentum: Wherever you find a Chlamydian, taint cannot be far.

Were I you, and I thank the Emperor and my gene-father Rogal Dorn I am not, I would count myself lucky to mate with a Chlamydian female. For although your gene-stock is assuredly disposable, hers is to be prized. Having even a little Chlamydian in you is better than none at all.

In Dorn’s glory
and in the glory of Him on Earth,
I remain

Aurelius Ventro
4th Company “Fists of Dorn,”
Imperial Fists Chapter



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