Sitting back on your haunches, you close your eyes and do your best to open your mind. There's no way, you think, that you can make it out of the wastes on foot. The idea from last night... your mind returns to it, and refreshed by sleep perhaps you'll see more success. Failure doesn't bear thinking on -- at best, you'll have wasted time and energy for nothing. Gathering your spirit, you concentrate, grasping at the void, trying to feel for sensations of movement, of otherness. If you weren't in such dire straits you'd snort at how airy and vague you sound, but that's the cost of ignorance, eh?
(1d100 → [96] Tap magical travel.
(1d100 → [44] Type of travel you've accessed.
(1d100 → [17] Situation you arrive in.)
Abruptly and almost anti-climatically you feel a brief sensation of squeezing and elongation, as if you've just been forced through a tiny hole in an improbably thick wall. For a moment you fall freely, landing with an unpleasant crunch on something which gives, even under your slight weight. Shaking your head, you cast your eyes around, but there is little enough to see.
"Sometimes called the Greenway, this endless tangle of tight passages is presumed to exist entirely within some enormous plant, though none have ever observed it from outside. Indeed, it has been suggested that there is no outside, that the nature of the network is not conceptually capable of generating such a thing. In any case, the paths are, despite the inherent dangers and disconcerting dim green-purple glow, one of the more commonly used forms of magical transportation.
Few travelers on the Greenway arrive near their intended destination, and some never emerge at all, but it is simple to access and relatively low-cost, with inherent risks which are not often encountered. He said with deadpan delivery, as if anyone with the power to utilize another method or a comprehensive understanding of the place still used the Greenway."
You are standing in a living tunnel perhaps five feet tall and two wide; the walls appear to be composed of something roughly analogous to a softer sort of green-tinted bamboo interspersed with patches of rot which are rather more orange. A sickly ichor leaks from the latter, a mixed orange-green shade itself coated in a faint, purplish sheen, which appears to emit the faint light illuminating the path.
At least it worked... sort of. Right? You've not the faintest idea where you are, but it bloody well isn't Tenazu and that ought to be good enough. The tunnel-path whatever seems to stretch off ahead and behind, quickly twisting to block off your sight lines. A slight hum emanates from the living walls all around you.
[] Forward!
[] Turn around and head the other way, fate is probably fucking with you.
--[] Either of the above, but after {x} period of time, try to repeat the... thingy you did that brought you here.
--[] Either of the above, but continue until you're tired enough to sleep.
[] Burrow into one of the rotten patches. You're a fox, foxes are good at digging, and absolutely nothing can go wrong with this plan.
[] Write-in.