Traveling through The Tablelands is like roaming across a vast patchwork quilt. Unlike other vast patch-work quilts, however, the blanket that is The Tablelands is constantly being reworked by a ravenous circle of quilting moths that devour each patch in time, even as they continue their work.
On The Tablelands, tomes fall from the sky and, upon impact, change the landscape to suit their contents. Furthermore, tomes are lifted back into the sky, leaving in their wake the smooth dark wood of bare table. Thus, the dwellers of the tabletop are nomads of neccessity. For any place they would call home will soon change at the passing of a book.
As the tabletop is always changing, the inhabitants of The Tablelands have taken to digging tunnels. Found only on untomed tabletop, tunnels are not changed by the falling of a tome. Rather, their top is sealed by a tome's descent until the time of that it should refind the sky.
When a nomad digs a tunnel and finds the exit blocked, that nomad will either wait for the impeding tome to fly away or dig elsewhere looking for bare tabletop on which to exit. As tomes can linger for longer than a food supply, many nomads opt to move on. Thus, the tunnels have become more than subterranean safehavens of stability. They have, out of necessity become paths to other places. And so, vast networks have developed over time.
Although the tunnels are secure from rapid change, there are those who would prey upon the weary. The tunnels are stable, but they are not safe.
Time moves with attention to it. When one is alive, and experiencing the world, things move. Things happen when one moves. When one is still, the world is stillness. If one never moves, all is dead.
But the world can move you. If all about you are a buzz, you can not sleep. You are moving in time with them, even as you do nothing. To achieve peace, you must be alone. To change the world, you must move and keep moving until everything is happening around you. This is time on The Tablelands.