Previously on the chosen people.

The Medianite kings filed in, still in their travelling clothes, dust from the road clinging

to them and dirtying his hall.

Baylach frowned at it as one of them stepped forward.

A rival nomadic nation has just stormed through our lands and trounced to fortified cities.

They have an army, an army of hundreds of thousands strong, in a population of over 2 million people.

This horde would devour everything around us like a swarm of locusts.

The Israelites cannot succeed in this land.

And if we cannot defeat them in battle,

let us turn to the gods ourselves.

What do you have in mind?

Baylam was a renowned sorcerer, prophet, and conjurer of the mysterious arts.

Many of his talents were mere tricks of the trade he'd learned from his master.

Yet other aspects of his job required a true connection to the spiritual forces.

This is where he truly made his weight in silver.

Please, Bel-Lam, our king has authorized great sums for your reward. That nothing keep you from

coming with us. Our king will give you the moon and stars if that's what it takes. All you have

to do is come to Moab and put a curse on the people of Israel.

But as Baylam urged her forward with his heels, the donkey froze, refusing to move.

Baylam's frustration boiled over, and he yelled, flailing at the animal.

What is wrong with you? Why won't you move? What have I done to you that you have beaten me these three times?

He dropped the stick he was holding.

...