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|Cover Text:||Lost Town is the first installment in a series of choose your own adventure style books—the first of many to come. It marks the beginning of The Wyldemere Chronicles, its pages following the subterranean exploits of Devon, Sara, and Fang. Subsequent books will introduce new characters, people such as Bulldirk, the one-armed blacksmith, Katie, the beautiful thief with a penchant for ruby rings and throwing knives, and Ashel, a blind mage whose tower has the unfortunate habit of transporting itself to random locations every other Tuesday—just to name a few. All books, regardless of storyline and characters, will be based in or around the lawless town of Wyldemere . Three hundred years ago: Wyldemere is a thriving seaport, a haven for sailors on their way to the southern isles. It’s said that coin changes hands faster on Barter St. than women change their minds. In part due to the amenities which spring up during economic booms, and in part due to Wyldemere’s singular geographic location, it’s considered one of the top destinations on the continent. Wyldemere is within a day’s ride of virtually every type of terrain imaginable: There are the Cragstone Mountains and Iron Caves to the South, the Dreaming Desert to the East, Deeperdelve Wood to the West, the Bogslump Swamps to the Southwest, the Gildoren Grasslands to the Southeast, and, of course, the Deedlebrine Sea and islands to the North. It’s said that if a person can’t find what they seek in Wyldemere, they can’t find it anywhere. Two hundred years ago: Nothing, as most people know, lasts forever. Least of all good fortune. Dark days of blood and tears are here. The beating drums of war have come to the peaceful kingdom of Lariella . Trenches are dug. Armor is donned. Bunkers are built. And new seaports with high walls topped by cannon are raised—the blue and gold flags snapping in the salty breeze of a new age. Shortly after the dark and bloody days of war reach their dark and bloody conclusion, Lariella falls into economic collapse. Entire towns are all but leveled (including Wyldemere), and the royal coffers are empty. Few know how close the kingdom came to total annihilation at the hands of the Malkynie invaders—their barbarian neighbors to the east. Some say it will take generations to recover. Others say they never will. Present day: What once was the thriving seaport of Wyldemere, is now a dingy, fading shadow of its former self, a sprawling, disorganized confusion of slouching buildings and twisting streets, a hodgepodge of new, old, and in-between construction. It has become one of those forgotten places, little more than a name on a map that most folks haven’t even heard of, a place for cutthroats and card sharks, conmen and drunkards, a place where one is either very rich or gutter poor, very lucky, very ruthless, or very dead. Not to suggest that Wyldemere is without its charms, mind you. After all, it’s still within a day’s ride of some pretty incredible locales. And the ruins beneath town are said to be a marvel, a shifting labyrinth whose unplumbed depths call to young men such as Devon, to those born on the wrong side of the divide (down by the docks), promising them, in sweet, singsong voices, that they’ll find the fabled halls of gold before the denizens of Lost Town find them. Needless to say, most who go down there never come back out. And the ones who do rarely return with more than a few baubles, some bumps and bruises, and an empty stomach for their trouble. We can only pray that Devon, Sara, and Fang will be the exceptions to prove the rule. For you see, as chance would have it, that’s where they’re headed this very moment, straight into the gaping maw of high adventure, into a heady amalgam of sword and sorcery from which only the nimblest of mind and stoutest of heart shall return. If you hurry, you just might catch them!|