Hastur-The-Unspeakable loped ungainly across the bizarre twisted plains of Yoggoth, a bleak and desolate wasteland, broken up in places by great, ugly craters.   Not the innocence pock-hole craters that cover Earth’s moon, created by the impact of meteorites, but rather insanely gaping rifts in the surface of the planet, where one portion of the planet simply failed to meet up with the next.   A consequence of the eerie asymmetry of Yoggoth, whose seven physical dimensions all contradicted and competed with each other rather than adding and building together.

The hairy, tentacled mass of swirling, foaming protoplasmic obscenity known as Hastur, The Not-To-Be-Named One, effortlessly crossed the gaping planetary rifts, part hopping, part loping, part flying across to the other side.   Hastur felt no fear of falling down into the empty, bottomless void at the centre of the planet, where by all the known laws of physics, a mass of molten lava should have been, but wasn’t.

In one of Hastur’s evil maws (either a slimy tentacle or black-clawed talon), he clutched a massive, ancient, yellowing tome, which had been penned continuously down the last ten thousand years, as each chapter of its contents unfolded.

The book was bound in an ancient cribbed hand, in a strange, red ink.

As he loped along, Hastur thought dreamily about his prized possession, and of the many chapters which he himself had helped to bring about.   For the tome was a historical record of all the great atrocities that had been perpetrated against the human race over the last ten thousand years or so.

Hastur longed to stop and browse through the forbidden book.   Yet he knew better than to take such an enormous risk.   No, he would have to keep his impatience in check until he was safely behind the locked doors of his private chambers.   True, Hastur was the supreme leader of evil, myth-riddled Yoggoth, which he had ruled unchallenged for countless aeons with his evil bride, Shub-Niggurath, The Goat-With-A-Thousand-Young.   But just as truly, even Hastur could be held accountable to the laws which he himself had laid down aeons ago in a bid to establish an order of sorts upon the disorderly inhabitants of Yoggoth.   One law being that it was a sin against everything that the Ancient Ones stood for to own or read any book or record from the planet Earth.   A sin punishable by death — as were all sins on Yoggoth.