TIMELINE

This article takes place in the 26th century of Distant Worlds.

THIS PLANET IS UNDER QUARANTINE
BY THE ARCHANGEL TRIBUNAL

THE PLANET IS INFESTED WITH PARASITES, PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION, INFECTION STAGE = 3

Uncovered from the forgotten depths of The Library, A temperate, Earth-like sphere rich in biodiversity, Amhus Antar was the fifth planet orbiting the unremarkable star cataloged as DSO-88478-48534. Little was known about it. No great civilizations had ever flourished on its soil—at least none that piqued the Archangels’ interest enough to record its history in full. What remained was fragmented, corrupted, as though time itself had eroded the truth.

Still, it was a gem. A green world veiled in thick clouds—an appealing alternative to Emerald for potential human colonization. The United Sol Command, ever hungry for expansion, sanctioned an expedition. Two medium-sized megaships were deployed to chart the unclaimed northern edges of the Milky Way: USC–Stellar Explorer and USC–Smaller Molecule. After nearly a month of travel through unlit corridors of interstellar void, the two ships arrived at their destination.

Soon, humanity would understand why the planet bore a name cursed in legend.

From orbit, Amhus Antar shimmered—a verdant jewel, seemingly pristine. But it was not alone. The planet was part of a binary system, its sister world a tranquil, temperate lacusterine world. The crew of the Smaller Molecule dubbed this second planet Dysphoria. While Stellar Explorer maintained a tight orbit around Amhus Antar—careful not to be flung away by Dysphoria's gravitational pull—Smaller Molecule made a daring decision: to land directly on the surface of Dysphoria.

Both ships were outfitted to exploratory standards. Among their equipment was a large unmanned probe, which Stellar Explorer launched to the surface of Amhus Antar. Then came the waiting. The monotony of deep space crept in. A few of the research team aboard Stellar Explorer passed the time with long sessions of poker, folding cards in the shadow of the unknown. Then, the silence broke.

The ship’s mainframe blinked to life as data packets began flooding in. The probe had touched down successfully—and what it transmitted was nothing short of extraordinary. Detailed analyses of the atmosphere, biosphere, and terrain painted the picture of a planet teeming with life. But buried in the data was something far more troubling.

Spores. Infected spores.

The radius of the probe’s transmission was limited, but the signals were clear. The spores were airborne. The signs matched the rumors that had long circulated in whispers, rumors from archived scraps within The Library—this was the planet where the Sahurian Parasites dwelled.

The surface of Amhus Antar unfolded like a forgotten memory of old Earth in autumn—lush, windswept valleys teeming with vibrant color. Oak, birch, maple, and pine trees flourished in an endless mosaic of reds, ambers, and greens. It was a world that could rival even Emerald, humanity’s crown jewel, especially in these far northern reaches of the galaxy.

The probe, launched earlier by USC–Stellar Explorer, had come to rest on the ridge of a highland mountain, offering a sweeping 270-degree view beneath the open skies of Amhus Antar. Its high vantage point transmitted breathtaking panoramas and critical atmospheric data in equal measure. Meanwhile, USC–Smaller Molecule, stationed on the aquatic twin Dysphoria, began composing a detailed mission log—a message intended to be sealed aboard and delivered back to Emerald. Both megaships worked in tandem, meticulously recording their planetary observations.

Three days into synchronized orbit around the system’s barycenter, the crew of Smaller Molecule made a decisive—and reckless—move. Ignoring the ancient warnings encoded in Archangelic protocol, they initiated descent toward Amhus Antar’s surface. The planet was, officially, under Quarantine.

Once guarded by dormant constructs known as Orbital Angels, the Quarantine was absolute. No ship was to enter. No ship was to leave. Fortunately—or ominously—those safeguards had long since gone silent. Had the Angels still been functional, neither Smaller Molecule nor Stellar Explorer would have survived the system’s edge.

The nearest inhabited world was Hengist, a relay point from which data could be transmitted securely to the United Sol Command. A decision was made: Smaller Molecule would break orbit and return to Hengist to deliver the data logs, while Stellar Explorer would descend to the surface of Amhus Antar. Larger expeditions would surely follow. After just four days in the star system, Smaller Molecule departed—leaving Stellar Explorer and her crew to face whatever truth lingered on the planet’s cursed soil.

The landing site was a modest continent, nicknamed Sector 1—a placeholder designation for planets not yet formalized into USC charts. The probe had originally landed in this region, meaning Stellar Explorer wasn't navigating blind. Atmospheric analysis confirmed what they feared: the air in Sector 1 held high concentrations of spores—microscopic, invasive, and of unknown pathogenicity.

Out of caution, the entire landing crew was outfitted in full environmental armored suits. It was perhaps overkill—but no one was willing to gamble with the possibility of Sahurian Parasites.

According to Library records, Amhus Antar had reached Stage 3 in parasitic classification: the infection had stagnated, remaining largely underground or confined to spore-heavy surface zones. But the designation offered little comfort. If the Library was right, then this was a dormant infection—one waiting for a trigger.

And now, Stellar Explorer was the spark.

The Megaship was fully equipped with everything needed to establish a new colony if the opportunity arose — it could even become a facility in its own right. A large squadron of service vehicles, industrial machinery, and specialized equipment was soon put back into action on the surface of Amhus Antar, disregarding all warnings about the parasitic species that might inhabit the world. The untouched jewel of a planet still held its vast natural resources, preserved for eons.

Construction crews began excavating exposed veins of metallic ores and rich carbon-bearing formations. The Megaship itself carried processing facilities that could be rapidly constructed by its team of service vehicles, allowing raw materials to be refined directly on-site. As the globular cluster of Eoch Pruae glimmered in the night sky above Amhus Antar, the settlers hoped their endeavors would draw the attention of the capital world, Hengist, and persuade its leaders to incorporate their new community into Humanity’s growing sphere, a self-sustaining colony far from the core yet full of promise.

Sharp Death

Khaix'odea, also known as Mors Acerbus, or Sharp Death, A parasitic horror born of Amhus Antar’s harsh biosphere, Khaix'odea is a mutated variant of the Sahurian Parasites — a nightmarish worm-like organism feared above all else on the planet. To the native species of Amhus Antar, infection by the Khaix'odea is synonymous with the most agonizing death imaginable.

Infection

Stage 1

In its initial form, the Khaix'odea is a near-microscopic worm, barely 0.1mm in length. It enters the host through natural orifices—typically the ear, nose, or mouth, though the entry point varies across species. Once inside, it nestles into a secure biological niche, usually the cranial or sinus cavities, where it remains undetected. Over the course of ten months, it grows silently, feeding minutely and avoiding detection by the host's immune system.

Stage 2

Upon entering its second stage, the parasite migrates to the gastrointestinal tract, where it grows rapidly to lengths exceeding 5 cm. Now feeding directly on ingested nutrients, the Khaix'odea induces persistent and unrelenting hunger in its host. Victims often display signs of malnutrition despite increased food intake. At this point, the parasite is around 2–5 cm long and is still largely undetectable by external medical scans.

Stage 3

By its third stage, the Khaix'odea reaches lengths of up to 10 cm. The host begins to suffer severe abdominal discomfort—constant, sharp pains that resist all treatment. Occasionally, the host may feel faint movements within the stomach, although this is rare, as the parasite generally remains dormant in this phase to avoid alarming its host prematurely.

Stage 4

Known as the “Stage of Death,” this is the Khaix'odea’s final and most horrific phase. The parasite, now mature and fully grown, begins to devour the host from within, consuming vital organs while the host remains alive. The pain is described in native records as "beyond screaming"—a crescendo of agony lasting up to an hour. Eventually, the worm forces its way out by violently rupturing the host’s abdomen. The eruption is grotesque: a massive, serpentine creature tearing through stomach tissue in a spray of blood and viscera. Death is certain, but not immediate—hosts are often conscious for several seconds after the rupture, able to witness their own destruction.

Following the death of the host, the Khaix'odea lays hundreds of microscopic eggs in the still-warm corpse. As the flesh decays, new hatchlings emerge, repeating the cycle as they seek new hosts. The parasite’s lifecycle is relentless, its methods unmatched in cruelty.