Oonouyugh

Backstory
The god Oonouyugh is a relative unknown, for only recently has his name come to the surface world of Ayreon. A large band of adventurers, seeking treasures and magics farther and deeper than any surfacers had ever gone before: a merely handful of these came back with horrific tales of mind-bending telepathic squids, ferocious fungi-like beings, and cult-like followings of drow who pursued them all the way to the light of day. Unfortunately, none of these adventurers live today, as all of them, one by one, succumbed to diseases and curses never seen before in this world.

Sages and their hirelings have ventured into the deep to confirm the stories brought to them, and have shown at least that a dark god, a god of disease and decay, is the object of worship among a number of the Underdark denizens. This god they have designated as Oonouyugh, and it would appear that It has been active in the world for a very long time. Only now is Its presence becoming known, much to the dismay of Ayreonians, who for aeons have suffered at the hands of Kulthis and Sscis. Oonouyugh's minions, on the other hand, are few and far between, and can easily be spotted by the symbols they wear, or the diseases that constantly afflict them.

Temple
Rumored to be found in the jungles north of New Thalos, only the most foul or the most foolish would seek to find Oonouyugh's temple.

Shops
Hotho is checking his armors for signs of wear and tear. (In Some Ruins)

A more evil-looking dwarf cannot be imagined. Hotho resembles others of his kind, grey skin, white hair, deep, dark eyes, but his pointed features, his brows, his nose, his chin, his beard, bring the inherent villainy common to all chaos dwarves out into the open. His clothes are dark, backdropping the silvery and golden links and rings and studs that adorn his frame. He's only too happy to sell his wares to his fellow worshippers, though the slyness in his face makes a body wonder if his armors are all that they seem to be. Girmdok is sharpening one of his blades. (In Some Ruins)

Pink-skins (as the lizardmen like to call all non-reptilian humanoids) have a hard time distinguishing one lizardman from another, and Girmdok gives no cause for exception. He's a large beast, scaled from head-to-toe, with a powerful tail that ends in a rather interesting artefact: a three-pronged blade attached to a thick ring of steel. His skin is brownish-green, and his eyes are a bright yellow veined with green. Steel mesh cover his torso and groin, and slung over his back is a large back from which handles of various 'tools' stick out. Psarsil has his mind on his store of home brew. (In Some Ruins)

A ceramic bowl in one hand and a mortar in the other, Psarsil ignores your glances at him to concentrate at the task at hand: brewing a new potion. He's a short man, stocky, with a pot-belly and stubby, dirty fingers. He's an altogether ugly man, his eyes are too close together, his nose is pug, the left side of his lips is riddled with festering cold sores. He is bald but for a few tufts of hair left unkempt and patchy. Psarsil probably figures, and rightly, too, that people don't come to him wanting to gaze at his features, but to purchase the wares of his inventory.

Clans Allowed

 * Lokatar (Clergy allowed)
 * Tarealen (Clergy allowed)
 * Callador
 * Pentacle