He trots, odd figure he makes as an overly large wolf with a bundle tied across his back, and a sword sheathed and carried in his mouth, but he doesn't like the look of this new place, a place out of time. Magic continues to do no services in his estimate, first the relentless shifting of time and dead in the place they'd left, Yuncai or whatever it'd been called, to this. He's reminded of the disturbing time on the island that was no island at all, on the back of a whale, only if this all begins to sink, there's no ships to carry them to safety.

Everywhere he trots, a chill follows, even as the vines snake out from the foliage covered walls of the maze he's in. Scent alone brings him across another living soul, where he pauses depending on their circumstances.

a. if vines have captured you, he pauses. The outline of the wolf loses clarity, and soon following the blink that it takes to resolve if one's eyes have started to blur a man holding an unsheathed sword and its sheath, with a bundle tied tightly across his chest and resting across his back, moves with no semblance of modesty to attack the vines with precise, methodical distaste. At least things begin heating up. Or flashing between heat and cold. Vines, at least, fall apart when struck with tempered steel.

b. dodging the old, red-eyed, white-haired and hunchbacked man who is toddling after him attempting to sweep the wolf's legs out from under him with the cane he's carrying. Ill equipped for speech in his current form, Licyn instead leads a marry dancing leaping game of dodge, ultimately darting around behind you. Take care of talking to the old man, will you?

( ooc note: with the second option, I'll start us a thread in the NPC section for any conversation had, and roll the answers into my tags in our thread if you wish! )

He's back to being dressed after descending the stairs, now carrying his pack and sword more traditionally, and with increasing irritation as he faces down the skeletal hounds.

"What storm-struck nonsense is this?"

He never encountered the hellhounds of Alem, having been too wise to descend to those depths of Hell, but this display is... unpleasant. Licyn grimaces, using his sheathed blade to nudge back one of the skeleton hounds pressing into his immediate personal space. With a spectral whine, the hound mouths his sheath instead, attempting to tug him down the hall.

"I'll note I don't find this comforting, Old Bones. Leave off," he says, baring his teeth as he does, almost growling, "And lead the way like a good dog."

The skeletal hounds hunch their shoulder-blades, giving no regard for any companion of his beyond an initial glance and then subtly sidestepping closer, to see if they might take hold of a sleeve that doesn't belong to the overly-magical werewolf confusing their senses.

( ooc note: hit me up with anything from the tdm prompt! Licyn can be found in human and wolf form, as you like. )