Muddale's one of those towns that makes a nice stop for a night, and a better place to leave in the morning. The four of you have found yourselves in exactly that situation; while traveling the road west towards Waterdeep, you needed a place to stop and rest, and the snoozy little hamlet seemed as fine a place as any. When you showed up, it was full of the normal noises of village life; bleating sheep, the ringing hammer of hte blacksmith, the creak of carts and such. Over dinner at the local tavern - the Merry Boggard - you heard plenty of the locals griping about lost livestock, which seems like it's the most exciting thing this town has ever seen.<br/>This morning though, over breakfast, things are different somehow. Tense. The locals are eyeballing the four of you with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. In one corner of the tavern stands a large man in a heavy cloak and leather armor, speaking quietly to a table of red-faced patrons. It's hard ot overhear what they're saying, but as the tall man i nthe armor turns and heads towards your table, you suspect you might find out anyway. Worn around his neck is an amulet with a seven-pointed star, etched with the holy symbol of Tyr (the lawful good of law and justice.)<br/><strong>"Y'all got a minute?"</strong>the man drawls, peering down at you with a stern face that looks like it missed a razor this morning.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Your characters</div><div class="spoiler_body">You're companions who have a goal in mind, and that goal is in Waterdeep; it's not time-sensitive, whatever it is, so you've taken a roundabout way through the western Heartlands, seeing the sights and pursuing spare coin.<br/><br/>• You have all the equipment on your character sheet<br/>• You're well-rested, have max HP and all your spell slots; you're also currently eating breakfast, so there's that.<br/>• The locals, as far as you've gathered, are having some sort of problem with predation on their flocks; wool seems to be one of the town's major, erm, industries.</div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Muddale</div><div class="spoiler_body">Muddale's a little thorpe on the delimbyr River, west of Secomber, east of Daggerford, most notable for being completely unworthy of note. Obstinately named for the pottery that the town used to make, the fact is it <em>is</em> a muddy, swampy little town, and most of the buildings are on stilts and connected to a raised plank-and-brick road  that shows signs of occasional flooding. To the north, hills rise abruptly, and this is where the town's livestock are herded. The population is small - six hundred on a good day perhaps - but their position on a well-traveled road seems to keep them from being too insular or paranoid.</div></div>