A long time ago in a far-off land there was a war in which brother fought against brother for the fate of a nation. When the soldiers from the North captured men from the South, they took them to a prison camp in a place called Point Lookout.
It eventually became an amusement park, but four hundred years ago, it was horrible place, where many men died. They were buried in a mass grave beneath the swamp, and the people who came to live there afterwards said that the swamp was haunted by the vengeful spirits of the dead.
All of those dead bodies under the swamp are responsible for the methane gas that bubbles up from under the water. One of the old energy companies thought they might sell the gas for profit during the resources wars.
But foetid gas wasn’t the only thing that rose up from the swamp, according to local legends. They say restless spirits walked the land, and that one of the aristocratic families, the Blackhalls had made unholy pacts with eldritch creatures from the primeval past before men walked the Earth.
They had a book of unknowable arcana called the Krivbeknih. An evil tome that, once written could not be destroyed by any means known! For generations the Blackhalls lived in a mansion in the Western parts of the swamp, and they led the locals in daemonic rites, invoking nameless entities from realms beyond the ken of humanity!
At the time of the Great War, the book had come into the hands of Constance Blackhall, a woman who carried its loathsome beliefs into the twenty-second century. She had married into the Blackhall family, but her own ancestry was no less depraved. Born Constance Dunwich, her brother Richard had established the Dunwich Borer company, and constructed its headquarters over a cyclopean cavern. There beneath the seemingly innocent drilling company, ichorous pagans conducted their jibbering rituals mere miles from the nation’s capitol!
Generations after the Great War, Constance Blackhall was still alive – perhaps a mutation – or it might have been the unutterable influence of that book. She eventually did die, but only after an unknown person stole the Krivbeknih from her.
At some point, the book made its way into the Capitol Wasteland. A traveler brought it to the Dunwich building for purposes no sane man could fathom. What happened to him is known only to the mouldering fiends from beyond. However his son followed in his wake, leaving holotapes as he descended into the abysmal catacombs beneath the building, toward a fate too diabolical to speak!
In Point Lookout, the swampfolk had developed a superstition about the Blackhall family and their Mansion. They chattered the ancient chants, and hung talismans about their swamp, but never dared enter the Blackhall house, where there dwells the last of the Blackhall line, a decrepit old man who roams the halls of his decaying mansion, restlessly seeking the lost tome of forbidden horrors.
The monstrous book, the Krivbeknih, has vanished, but is certainly in the clutches of some degenerate, tenebrous beast. What sinister connection it has to the Deep Temple beneath the Dunwich Building, I cannot say, but on nights when the stars are right, and the winds blow from the East, travelers in the Mojave can hear whispered words carried on the breeze…
“Ug-Qualtoth is returned. Alhazred G’yeth G’yeth.”