Rising from the edge of the Central District, the Temple of Tempus looks less like a place of worship and more like a fortress prepared for war. Built in the shape of a broad pentagon, its thick stone walls are buttressed and scarred, a visible testament to both the god’s nature and the battles his followers prepare for. At its northernmost point stands a square lookout tower, flying Tempus’ crimson banner of sword and shield, where sentries keep watch over the city below.
The interior is just as martial. Instead of quiet sanctuaries or ornate mosaics, the halls ring with the sound of steel on steel. Training grounds and sparring arenas fill much of the temple space, with only a single austere chamber set aside for prayer. Even here, weapons line the walls, and prayers to the Lord of Battles are offered with sword in hand.
The clerics of Tempus are as much soldiers as they are priests. All undergo rigorous combat training and a strict physical regimen, drilling daily in armor and weaponry. Their services are not filled with sermons but with oaths, war chants, and the clash of blades. They bless warriors heading to battle, heal the wounded when possible, and instruct citizens in the discipline of arms. Many are veterans themselves, carrying scars both visible and hidden, and they take pride in preparing Lygos for the sieges and wars they believe are always on the horizon.
The temple is both feared and respected by the people. To some, it is an intimidating reminder of the ever-present shadow of war. To others, it is a bulwark of discipline and strength, a fortress of faith that ensures Lygos will never be unprepared when the drums of battle sound.