Laying down in the space he'd prepared, Fionn made himself comfortable - didn't need a strained neck to compound whatever pain he might wake with. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly, over and over again as he shut out the external world. When it was done, he reached out into the Resonance, looking for one who might deliver the aid he expected to need.
"Aos sidhe of the wilds, I call upon thee!" He felt, more than heard, his call ring out through a spectral forest, its trees as ghosts in some grim reflection of the domain in which his physical form found itself. A pale wind blew through his hair and chilled him to the bone.
"Hunters of the code, I demand an audience!" An unearthly howl came to him in response, an attempt to break his resolve.
"Thrice I call, and I shall not be denied!" His last word silenced the howl, and shook the shade of a forest that surrounded him. The wind ceased, and all was still.
Reflected in the forest growth, the beast seemed to come from all directions at once; Fionn waited to let it advance and come nearer - the next action was not his. The images resolved into a single unearthly wolf, one as tall as he with fur that all at once seemed to be white as snow, blue as sky, and green as the sea - not a blend, no, but three separate colourations somehow existing all at once. Slowly, the creature circled him, as though it were sizing him up.
"You call, arlasai, and I have heard. You beg an audience, and I am come. You refuse to be ignored, pup, and thus are we bound. What would you have of the wilds, young one?" It did not open its jaw, and it did not need to - its voice resounded. Its strength was clear, and Fionn know there was only one way to gain what he sought; joining it in it's circling, a midpoint was set between them, unchanging.
"I would have your respect, fiagai. And with it, your service." His voice was firm, unwavering. There was naught else he could afford it to be.
"A bold request. But can you earn it?"
"Name your contest, and you shall know."
"Ah, but what contest could there be but the hunt? Ours for the prey, mine for you, and yours for me..." As it 'spoke', the sprite disappeared from his vision. He called a spear to his hand - he knew he would have need of it if he expected to emerge the victor. Silently, he stalked off into what was at once a forest and a wasteland.
Meanwhile, in meatspace, Fionn's body shook a bit as he endured the forces at play.
