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. The bright sunlight cast the leaves in a
shimmering iridescence that shifted in shade and intensity
with each passing breeze.
The view from the bridgewalk allowed him to see quite a
distance. He looked down at a smithy, where the blacksmith
Theros Ironfeld toiled at shoeing the lively stallion of a
robed human who was pacing with impatience.
A seeker, Flint thought sullenly, and his mood darkened.
It seemed the seekers were everywhere these days. The sect
had arisen from the ashes of the Cataclysm, which was itself
caused by the old gods in reaction to the pride and misdirec-
tion of the most influential religious leader at the time, the
Kingpriest of Istar. This group, calling themselves seekers,
loudly proclaimed that the old gods had abandoned Krynn.
They sought new gods, and sometime during the three cen-
turies since, the seekers claimed to have found those gods.
Many of the folk of Abanasinia had turned toward the flick-
ering promise of the seekers' religion. Flint, and many oth-
ers of a more pragmatic nature, saw the seekers' doctrine for
the hollow bunk that it was.
They could be recognized by their brown and golden
robes, these seeker missionaries who rode about the plains
collecting steel coins for their coffers
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