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Those who head north along the rocky coast of the Varisian Gulf quickly find themselves in peculiar country. Fog drapes the rolling landscape, floating spectrally along damp and lonely moors. Small woodlands grace the region, their tangled depths redolent of nettles and pepper wood and pine sap, while further inland, river valleys lined by majestic redwoods wind between ragged tors and limestone escapements. The region’s vastness and sense of isolation have earned it the title of The Lost Coast

The town of Sandpoint, the Light of the Lost Coast, has, as of late, been no stranger to the unpleasantness of this region. Isolation breeds madness, and where madness finds fertile ground do good men grieve. In the passed month, it had seemed each day would reveal another victim of a gruesome murderer that would come to be known as the Chopper. Only after claiming 25 victims did the Chopper fall at the hands of Sandpoint’s then Sheriff, even taking her as his final victim and revealing the nature of his madness. Yet even as the Chopper fell, the Late Unpleasantness continued as a voracious fire that claimed the Sandpoint Chapel, several local establishments and the lives of Sandpoint’s Priest and his beautiful daughter.

Sandpoint mourns, even now. It’s chapel is rebuilt, its people are moving on and the Swallowtail Festival promises to breathe new life into the Light of the Lost Coast.

And though they do not know it, Sandpoint needs your help.