Hundreds, if not thousands, of grand tombs stud the landscape of Djemity, for it is (perhaps surprisingly) the custom of every race to bury the dead.
The reasons behind this tradition were lost to the peoples of Djemity with the calamity of The End, but archaeological expeditions to some of the more accessible mausoleums have shown that a phenomenal degree of effort was placed on proofing these burial grounds against thieves, for they customarily bear an assortment of cunningly wrought traps or magical protections.

Sylphim tombs predictably tend towards grand works of architectural genius. Since the Sylphim lifespan is relatively short, and the building times for a suitably impressive tomb often mark in the decades then it is common for a single burial complex to house thousands of Sylphim dead, each in their own beautifully worked stone sarcophagus.
The tombs are launched on small floating isles to roam the skies of Djemity for centuries. Eventually the magic holding them aloft falters and they glide to a final rest upon the ground.

Teklo tombs are usually buried deep beneath the earth; often within the myriad of natural caverns that honeycomb the Deep Mountains. Although carefully wrought, the Teklo do not honour their dead, for that which is dead has no breath to speak the divine words. Teklo tombs are spartan affairs, where the bodies are laid out in mass graves, and Sacred Words written by Wordshapers upon the stones that are then used to seal the dead within these mausoleums.

Kirlsa tombs are normally large caves sealed with great rocks in the deserts. Inside the warrior's body has been encased in a life-like expanse of stone and great carvings of their chosen totemic animals to watch over them, or perhaps to serve them in the next life. Some very few seem to have been buried in specially wrought pyramids honeycombed with passages too small for adults to move through, and it is suspected that these must be royal graves given the obvious effort involved from such a tribal people.

Aquienos tombs are normally found along coasts, in shallow bays and inlets where a great coral reef grows. The reef over generations has been carved and grown into a large underwater mausoleum. The dead are placed in stone coffins, filled with burial goods, then dropped into the ocean above the Mausoleums, which have large holes in the roofs, which the coffins sink through. The already rich ecosystems of the coral reefs have been cultivated by the Aquienos, so that the waters around the tombs team with sea life, a considerable amount of which is dangerous to people foolish enough to try and swim down and steal the riches of the tombs.

The Becquerel do not construct anything that should rightly be called a tomb, but they do have extensive burial grounds. Although the remaining Skira of the dead is usually taken and brought to use for the Becquerel, the dead are bound around trees in designated groves. A single family tends to be bound to one tree (or group of trees), although new burial woods are frequently chosen.

There is an element of attraction for daring looters as many older burial woods are well-served by gifts that families have left for their ancestors. Though such things may appear attractive, it would never occur to a Becquerel to loot such a place and there are scarce records by any other races of successful expeditions.

Once a prosperous seaport, Kez'Dun was torn apart by a great horde of wyrmlings. The heroes of that age descended upon the city and slew the creatures, and settlers moved back in. Fifty years later the wyrmlings came again, and once more the city burned. The wyrmlings were driven out once more, but this time the will to rebuild was gone and the port was left to fall into ruin. Travellers steer well clear of its broken walls, for the children of the wyrm are often seen prowling nearby.

Parabai was the garden isle of the Sylphim, a place where the most beautiful blooms of nature were relentlessly tended, pruned and crossbred at the behest of generations of Empress'. Then the Teklo tore it from the sky, dashed it against the side of a mountain and then put its inhabitants to the sword.
The fragments of the isle were harvested for what plants could be rescued but as almost every Sylphim who knew the slightest thing about horticulture had just been killed this was a rather desultory effort.

In the century since its fall the isle has returned to nature, and whilst many of the carefully nurtured plants have died without the attentions of their caregivers, others have proved surprisingly hardy. Indeed a number of botanists sent to investigate the site haven't come back.

In the current Armada, merchants are integrated into the Home Fleet. Most Praetor ships have warehouse decks which store goods, but this was not always so. Years ago there was a separate merchant fleet which consisted of massive freight ships which would take the products of the sea and the various small isles to the markets of the other races, exchanging their good for luxury foodstuffs and other items that are unavailable on the sea. However these ships were prime targets for pirates as they were heavy and slow; only had minimal crew, leaving them undefended; kept to well defined trade roots, so they could be found by Home Fleet ships in need of supplies, and most important of all, were full of expensive goods.

The Tapalia was one such ship, returning from a long voyage full of valuable metals that would fetch an outstanding price from Sylphim artists. It was sunk by pirates, and all its goods went with it. Many have attempted to regain the lost goods, but none have succeeded. Who knows what creatures of the deep sea have taken the wreckage as their home.

Out in the Blighted Lands a great bog stretches for miles where once stood verdant fields. In the centre of this quagmire one can spot the spires of a grand building, now slumped deep into the muck. Occasional expeditions have attempted to raise or excavate the structure, but all have failed as the bog tenaciously holds onto its prize.

Deep in the Mosel desert lies one of the greatest Kirlsa fortresses ever constructed. But no Kirlsa ever sets foot there any more. Indeed they have been known to kill any who try. Situated surrounding a great caldera lake, the walls tower for miles around. According to those few who have managed to get a view over the walls, a great lake with a single island is contained within. On that island is a single great pyramid.

Broken Peak is an active volcano near the centre of the continent. Rivers of lava spew from it constantly to trickle down the mountainside and sprites of flame prowl the peak looking for fuel to burn.

Almost two centuries ago the Sylphim decided that the plume of smoke from the volcano was an eyesore in their skies and sought to plug the crater. An expedition was led to drive away the sprites and secure the caldera for the Earth channellers to do their work. However as the ritual began a terrible beast emerged from the mountain's molten heart and struck down the intruders. Today the forms of the dying Sylphim still surround the peak, twisted statues of igneous rock that serve as warning to others who would seek to conquer the mountain.

At the Western end of Seraphol Forest, Quelling is a great rip in the tall trees that surround it. When the sun shines upon it, the waters reflect the light in great quantities, such that it is painful to look at during the day. There are few who can bear to travel over it while the sun shines and the little islets all across it have never been inhabited. It is said that there were those of the Sylphim who could happily live in the reflected rays of the Quelling Sea and tales are told of the treasures they left behind.

Becquerel have on occasion come here out of curiosity and there are many tales of brave, but ultimately futile journeys into the very centre.

Out in the Western ocean a great storm cloud lies immobile over roiling waters. Sailors know better than to enter these troubled seas, for to do so risks being caught in the near inescapable grip of the Spiral. The Spiral is an inverted whirlpool, a tapering funnel of water towering up into the dark clouds surrounding it. Ships caught in the Spiral current are spun up the tower and out of sight. Occasionally fragments of their shattered hulls are found washed up on islands or the shores of Djemity, but more often than not they are simply never seen again.

In the northern part of the Mosel desert, in an area known as Lod, the sands flow almost like liquid. Many an unwary traveller has stepped onto what he thought was solid land to find himself quickly disappearing beneath the surface. But these sands do not only swallow, for what goes down must come up; and it would seem that there is a lot which has gone down in the past. A skilled explorer can find drifts of recently surfaced items if they are careful, some of which are of great worth to the right person.

In the southern reaches of the Deep Mountains a blazing shaft of lightning twists and pulls against the stone. One end of the lightning bolt roams the perpetual clouds overhead, but the other lies anchored to the earth.
Legend has it that if one were to journey into the mountain's heart and free the tethered lightning, the heavens would bestow a great blessing upon you.

Every couple of years there are reports of a flying island emerging from the clouds, drifting high above even the lands of the Sylphim. The Isle always disappears back into the clouds and is gone when the skies clear. Thirty years ago the noted Aquienos explorer Mas'Januk'Fuzuvia'Es allegedly found some way to reach the Lost Isle and disappeared shortly after leaving little clue as to her theories.

Over a century ago, the Teklo and the Sylphim began a great and destructive war. Towards the end of the hostilities, the Sylphim, in retaliation for the destruction of their Garden City of Parabai, buried the great Polis of Raksan beneath the earth and set it moving beneath the mountains for ever more. This was a terrible blow to the Teklo people, not only for the loss of life, but also because The Great Stylus, a sacred artefact capable of performing great feats of Wordsmithing in the hands of a master, was lost with the City.

In the days after this terrible attack, the Wordshapers within Raksan spoke words through the stone to those outside, calling for help, for aid, but none could be given and, one by one, their voices went quiet.

Periodically, there reports of vast, sweeping changes being made soundlessly to the deep caverns under the mountains. It is supposed that these are the marks of the passage of Raksan, city of the dead.

Find the web of a spider, lay it upon the ground and then begin to draw in the dirt, expanding the web outwards until it lies three arm spans wide. Then from the outskirts leap into the centre, landing upon the original web. If your drawing was sufficiently intricate then you'll fall through the web into somewhere else.
This ritual is believed to have been stolen from the Spirit Xo, and has been observed to work several times by noted scholars, however no-one has yet returned from the journey into the web to describe what happens to the participant.

As legend has it, somewhere deep in the Mosel desert lies a great city that is now buried. From time to time the shifting sands will uncover parts of it, though most are lucky to find such once in their lifetimes. Scholars have yet to even agree on its existence, never mind its history or significance.

Recently a clan of Kirlsa claim their sand whispers have found a way to consistently reach the city, and have started selling artefacts they claim to have found there. This has led to a clamour for an expedition from some, while others suspect it is all a scam dreamt up to fetch higher prices for their craftsmen's work.