What's a neat little world building tidbit you wrote that you like?
Ooooooooo hmmmm good question, still early days but for now I'm gonna say their governments!
Each Sheepfolk Clan has (had lol) a different style of government reflecting their heritage and values. Since there's 5 clans (for each of the 5 regions and maybe 6 clans in the future? I have ideas for other smaller sects but there's 5 main ones) and they're all spread out they've diverged slightly in how they each choose their ruler. The main thing though is they all use a form of Tanistry elective, a real historic type of leadership election used in the past irl in Celtic states, mostly Ireland and Scotland.
Anchordeep - Merchant Republic, the Leader (called a Tanist) is chosen through intrigue and cunning, usually manipulating the votes in his favour. The clan of Anchordeep is renowned as the mercantile clan of the wider Sheepfolk race, and they provide the other clans goods in return for influence, money and an agreement of peace. Which doesn't always hold up because of the following asshats:
Darkwood - Nomadic Tribals, the Tanist is chosen through whoever is the strongest (most soldiers in their household) or commands the most loyalty within the clan. Darkwood is the warlike clan, so duels and challenges for chiefdom are relatively commonplace and highly ritualised. As previously mentioned, the clans are varied enough and have enough shared history that there's a sense of sibling rivalry between them, and with clashing civilizations of course comes war. These guys love it, they adore a fight, but that doesn't necessarily mean they're the best, just that they're the most practiced.
Anura - Settled nomadic pastoralists, the Tanist is chosen fairly harmoniously, based on who has the largest amount of crops and is liked the most. The Sheepfolk of Anura focus on hospitality, pacifism and a strong emphasis on justice. They practice ritual kindness in a similar way to the Pūjā of the Hindu religion in our world, wherein guests are honoured greatly and invited to relax within their hosts homes with banquets and gifts. This makes them by far the most peaceful of the clans, and they will only fight if absolutely forced to. Much like:
Silk Cradle - Semi-Feudal Theocracy state, the Tanist is chosen through the election of the most learned and pious member of the Clan. The Silk Cradle Clan is home to the Lore-keepers of the wider Sheepfolk, their customs and their histories are all stored within their libraries. Members of the clan often swear vows of silence to become consecrated Lore-Keepers, and members of other clans often take pilgrimage to either do the same, or display their religious fervour. Members of the Clan are split up into smaller family groupings, all of whom swear fealty to the Tanist, who is also the head of the monastic order in non-religious matters. Members of the clergy are forbidden from inheritance much like monks, and so devote their entire lives into silence and the gift of knowledge.
Paradise (Unnamed for now) - Unknown as of current, but all I can say for sure is that this Clan is where the Final Lamb will come from. They'll likely have a Welsh heritage base, so maybe feudalism? It'll probably be a mystery for the most part, with this clan being the most isolationist one with very little contact with the other clans and tribes. They'll likely have a very foreign election system compared to the other clans, as their isolation will keep them more in line with their ancient values, such as preventing the religious melting the other clans have experienced.
Often it's impossible to remember anything at all,
To recall the finer details and find my way;
It's as if I've been entangled in a darkened red shawl:
I can see beyond the darkness in glimpses of authenticity,
I can reach past the madness and almost touch what has now been repealed.
But there remains a thin veil between myself and the truth;
It feels insurmountable as I fall into my minds' obscurity.
Godly ichor seeps out of the wound naught can yet heal,
I sit there and watch it drip down till they come with more news
Were my past machinations truly mine or those of fate?
It's increasingly difficult to make it back from the fall.
Do I deserve these conditions for living a life full of hate?
I know those who claim to be my siblings don't deserve a life that's so cruel.
Even if I recover what awaits? A world of stability?
Can such a world, with us in it, even be real?
Every day I awake is a veritable who's who.
Did the past-me ever imagine a life of such vulnerability?
Are these the consequences of taking actions guided with zeal?
I see strange faces come and go, they mutter "we love you"
When I gave the order, was I at all even phased?
It seems so out of character, so unusual.
They tell me it was desperation that changed how I behaved;
But would a God of Knowledge really resort to adding to the fire more fuel?
Was it just of us to punish curiosity?
Was it righteous of us to tell our brother to kneel?
It didn't feel correct to leave a sibling askew.
When we plunged the chains through his limbs in this violent atrocity,
Did any of us leave room to heal?
Or had we already broken through the time to heal and break through to you?
Now when I close my eyes I see a void-white gate,
Standing at the end of a long, dark hall.
Traversing the barrier I spy a long-hewn lake,
I bellow loudly to its occupant, but they never hear my call.
I see my voice extend, almost physically, with such velocity.
But it quickly recoils, and is brought to its heel.
It was you whom I had called to,
You, my brother the Lord of Death and magnanimity.
I remember once you heard my voice, I watched it make you reel,
I suppose the voice you least expect is that which has betrayed you.
As I heal slowly all that's left is to ruminate,
Reflect on the ways in which I failed my thrall.
It drives me ever closer to the madness that consumes and degenerates:
Across my mind does it sprawl, a slaughter-hall of the attentive and philosophical.
That which once saw every angle and possibility has ultimately been replaced by this vacant unpredictability.
The madness has caused my brain to slowly allow the crown to congeal.
The crown's influence spreads with its purple-hazed hue,
The cue to allow the crown to finally take responsibility, to be rid of the me that was me and become without humility,
I can feel myself slipping away, until all I can recall is the ordeal;
The ordeal that took you.
I remember walking up to those ivory arches and the cacophony of silence that followed. The wave of the trees from the wind, the exposed roots struggling against the combatant wind at every turn of their opponent.
I remember the darkness filling the air where once there stood nothing, blackened tar swirling with vitriol at every second it hung so loosely in our world. The almost viscous substance that materialised in an instant, and seemed so eager to disappear as quickly as it had come.
I remember the eyes that peered down and gazed upon the windows of my soul with unknowable intent. How they scanned every detail of my form, how they analyzed without repent every single finite piece of me as though I were a piece of discarded art, thrown away by its creator, then remembered and gazed upon once more for its flaws, not its graces.
For long there was silence, glares exchanged and stances readied. Longer still was the time that passed, every second felt an hour, every minute felt a day, yet little passed at all but a matter of minutes in the days stead.
Then it spoke, measured, calm, poised:
"Son of Sun, God of War, God of Knowledge that you are. We beseech you listen closely, for your foes they closely are. They tread and thread within your web so take caution when you spin. The conspiracy lies deep inside, and you are deep within. Illusions of your safety work vice versa with yourself. Take heart in what companions you trust deeply with your wealth. There lies only one within the five that you should dare to question. You mistrust and pray that that's enough but irony's your predilection. There will come a day where you will say, that you had known for better. You will dull the pain with maddened songs that tell of your grief's measure.
Make your choice, They of War, but pray caution when you move. It is time to right your wrongs,
