Wraiths have a wider range of action than Ghosts, but they remain tied to their Anchors, which dissuades wide travel. That said, it isn't unheard of for Wraiths to explore the far corners of their world, either on their own or by creating a Consort and riding someone - or something - around the planet. In fact, some Wraiths with well-protected Anchors go "Skinriding" all the time, jaunting from place to place so they can say that they have, indeed, seen everything.
 
Simply put - anywhere one of the living can go, so can a Wraith. They can walk the poles, swim in the sea, traverse the deserts and jungles and climb through the mountains and valleys. They can even soar through the air or dive to the depths of the oceans, provided they can get a ride.
 
And some have even hitched rides aboard spaceships in near orbit, though the pull of their Anchors makes such a trip little more than an extreme stunt
 

Here and There
 
When speaking of what they left behind in death, Wraiths tend to make a distinction between the world of the living and the world of the dead. The former is the Land of the Living - sometimes known as the Liveworld - while the hazy realm they inhabit is often called the Land of the Dead, the Deadworld, the Deadlands, or any number of other, less cozy terms.
 
In truth, the notion of there being separate lands for the living and the dead is a misnomer: both occupy the same world at the same time. It's just that Wraiths are one step "beyond" the people, places and things they left behind, and are unable to interact with them without using their powers. And even then, with their Affinities or Numina turned full on, that interaction is temporary and draining, and serves as a harsh reminder of what's been lost. So they prefer to think of it as two separate realities, even if they are one and the same.
 
To a Wraith, the Liveworld - and, by extension, the Deadworld - is a pale reflection of what they remember. Everything and everyone they once knew is still there, barring their destruction, demolition or death, but what was left behind seems more than a little off. Everything there is hazy and indistinct, as though the Wraiths eyes were watering up or out of focus. The colors are washed-out and flaccid, motion is seen as a blur, and the Sun is a dull disk in the sky, even on "sunny" days. Smells are muted, sounds are distorted and taste is simply not an option, here.
 
In fact, the only things that are sharp and clear to Wraiths are their own Anchors and their fellow Wraiths: even Ghosts in their Shrouds seem as much a part of the cloudy landscape as the living. While this state of being makes it relatively easy for the Dead to tell one another apart, it also makes for a depressing and discouraging view of the things they left behind. Anchors seem so close, and yet so terribly far, far away.
 
To be a Wraith in the Deadworld is to exist alongside the living, but to be unable to enjoy anything of the former life. Their intangibility keeps them from touching anything in the "real" world, and it's a rare human who can see or hear them. It is for this reason that many Wraiths take up "riding" people or objects, or else learn the lower levels of the Embody Numina. They just want to see, hear and touch the world, again - to experience it as it was truly meant to be, once more.
 
And the fact that this makes the loss even deeper than before is not lost on Shadows.

While they may have the run of the world, Wraiths also have a special place all to themselves. Under the ground of the Deadworld is a sprawling labyrinth of untold lengths and depths, existing alongside the subterranean buildings of the living, and bordered only by the oceans and seas. This endless maze of tunnels and chambers is known as the Catacombs, though there are those who refer to it as the Labyrinth, as well.  

The Catacombs appear to be much like what the name would imply: a spectral echo of any place that the living may have placed their dead. The shafts and passages run and twist, leading explorers into burial chambers, mausoleums, temples, tombs and crypts. Some of these grottos appear to be exact replicas of famous burial places - such as the necropoli of Egypt or Rome - while others have only ever been seen in dreams of fancy, or terrible nightmares.

All a Wraith has to do to enter the Catacombs is to find an entrance, which is sometimes quite a trek if she doesn't know where the nearest one is. It's not possible for Wraiths to slip into the ground as they can slip through walls, floors or people, for some reason, so these entrances are the only way in, and also the only way out. It's not even possible to go underground via a subway or parking lot and walk through the wall, there.

It can also be tough to get in those entrances, sometimes. The Order, convinced that the refuge was created by Charun for their use, always posts a guard, and they only allow in those who belong to their number. They tend to allow the Believers in as well, as the two Concords have an ancient pact of neutrality, but the fine print of this Understanding differs from city to city, depending on their local relationship.

{The Order's guards also get out of the way of anyone escorted by the Ferryman, even if they're Haunters or Freewraiths...} 

Wraiths use the Catacombs as meeting house, place of worship - for those so-inclined - and sanctuary from the Storms. The Order most often has its Temples down below, in the largest and most grandiose of crypts, while Believers are mostly content to take smaller, more humble lodgings.

They say that wonders beyond imagining lurk around the myriad corners of the place, along with horrors equally unthinkable. However, as Wraiths are as bound by the pull of their Anchors while down in the Labyrinth as they are while above ground, very few care to explore for too far, or for too long.

Dead Weather
 
Being one step "beyond" the world of the living doesn't make for much in the way of comfort. The good news is that Wraiths are in no danger of being soaked in the rain, blown away by a tornado or buried under ten feet of snow. The bad news is that they can never feel the warmth of sunshine on their faces, never have a delightful breeze blow past them, and never truly appreciate the change of the seasons. From their vantage point, it's all a dull, lukewarm blur that they can't indulge in.
 
That's not to say that the Deadworld doesn't have its own, unique weather patterns, though. Every so often, for reasons that are not fully understood by anyone - except perhaps the Ferrymen, who warn of their approach - the Land of the Dead shakes and shudders, as if caught in a fevered dream, and the air comes alive with the fury of a Storm.
 
These thankfully rare eruptions from the Spirit World bring with them terrible, ripping winds and hordes of The Damned. Visibility drops down below zero, even in a "mild" Storm, and between the predators, the razorwinds and the sheer confusion, any Wraith caught out in it will be lucky to get out in one piece. Any Wraith caught out in a bad Storm is most likely destroyed.
 
The only sure way to protect oneself from the ravages of a Storm is to be down in the Catacombs, or inside an Anchor. However, whenever a Storm is on, it is impossible for Wraiths inside its area of effect to instantly teleport to their Anchors. Those unlucky enough to be caught out in one must either use certain Numina, or voluntarily Ossify themselves, in order to survive.
 
And as for those in the Catacombs, the innate power of the maze may keep the Storm's winds out, but the Damned may go anywhere they like

While the inhabitants of both worlds are most often kept from one another, there are areas where their separate realities overlap, and their inhabitants are back on equal footing, once again.
 
The most obvious area of overlap is a physical place that happens to be an Anchor for one or more Wraiths. While inside such an Anchor, the Wraiths it belongs to have an easier time Manifesting and using their Numina to affect the mortal world. Such Anchors - known to Wraiths as Haunts - give rise to legends of haunted houses or forests, and provide shelter against deadly Storms. 
 
There are also places of tangible overlap, known as Shadowlands. They are dark and blighted places, each one representing some taint on the landscape. They can be caused by massive atrocity, stark depravity, generations of murder or the unleashing of foul magics. It is also said that they can be deliberately created by Wraiths, but if so, the exact means are a well-kept secret.
 
In a Shadowland, the living can see and touch the dead, and vice versa, and things no longer look hazy or indistinct to Wraiths. However, everything else outside the area - such as the sky, the Sun and Moon, and other far-off places and things - still appears as "normal" for Wraiths.
 
People or things from the Liveworld that enter a Shadowland don't appear hazy or indistinct to Wraiths. Likewise, the dead look perfectly human to the living, though any alterations to their form caused by Thorns, Shadowstate or the Shaping Numina can be seen. Objects from both worlds can be brought into the Shadowland, and used by anyone there - living or dead - but they must return the way they came: the grave does not relinquish its possessions, and the living have little place amongst the dead.
 
That said, there are those mortals who can use the unnatural energies of a Shadowland to their own uses. They often go there to make contact with Wraiths, or enact rituals that allow them to enter the Deadlands. Some even parley with The Damned for malign, selfish purposes.
 
Common wisdom is to avoid mortals who enter into the Shadowlands, but - as with life - it's uncommon for such wisdom to be heeded.