[Liethell]

The knock and open door hardly phases him. The creature in front of him is much taller and heavier than he. It would seem Nouri could slay the Tiefling right here and be able to finish his drink while it was still cold. Maru hardly even looks up, though, as if the threat of death means nothing to him. Or perhaps, Nouri means nothing to him. He opens his mouth to speak. His voice is a gravelly one, near poisonous with anger, but it's also prepubescent--he’s young.
"What level of hell did you crawl out of, and were you raised in a barn there? Sit your sorry seat down and close the door." He snarls and pulls his bag closer to him. It’s patched up, and there’s no real defining marks to it. There are none on his clothing either. He's digging through there. Inside the bag, the newcomer could see bottles of glowing and not always natural looking juices and potions and thick slops, and bags with twigs and leaves and awful and wonderful stenches wafting from them. A few scrolls poke out. None of these have marks either. It’s peculiar enough, as most great wizards have some form of signature they leave on at least their best products, though apprentice and average wizards have none.
"What do you want? Potion, spell, magic tricks, whatever the hell it is, make it fast. I have better things to do." He pulls a leather-bound book out and throws it at the ground nearby, and tosses a pen after it. He at least sets the well of ink down gently. Never once does his eyes meet the strangers, and his tail swishes in a manner that resembles an irritated dragon.

The room itself isn't particularly interesting. It's a basic room made with wood and spruced up with a basic and almost threadbare rug, with one bed with mostly clean bedding and bags piled in corners. The window is left cracked open and there's a tree just outside, which filters the sunlight a bit. The only remarkable thing about this room is the scent of cat urine...