Blackwood was a tiny Maine town, as normal as any else for its time. Normal, in almost every sense of the word, except for a dark secret that haunted the area for years. Long before its founding, John Doe, a French fur-trapper, had come across a large clearing in the middle of a thick forest. He noted that it would be a suitable place for a settlement, and spent many days observing and scouting the area.

Everything was fine, but there was one thing in particular that bothered him. In the middle of the clearing, there was a tall, pillar-like stone, bathed in deep engravings. The markings showed a man, tall and thin, walking through the woods. He bore no face, and it was so written: "He, the thin man, will forever walk the planes of these woods, the guardian of the land and its soul, forever encompassing the Black Wood."

John Doe uprooted the stone, and out of fear, smashed it to bits, and in memoriam, founded Blackwood. People came from Quebec, from Boston, from New York... And over the years, the little settlement grew.
And to October 17th, 1813, the people of Blackwood still held a deep and inherited fear, the fear of a legacy and mystery, one so old that even John Doe had fallen victim to it; The fear of the Thin Man.