Rolf watched Bergoda and Zarwin peer over the map and wondered briefly if anyone in the party could actually read.  

"Aye, ghosts don't bother me, but if this strapping lad is scared," he smiled good naturedly at Zarwin, "We can steer clear of them."

Rolf was dressed simply, forgoing armor, he was in a brown and gray tunic and trousers, with some good leather boots.  Better than he'd ever had, in fact.  His one concession to ornamentation was a fine blue sash about his waist.  Tucked into the sash was the branch he had been carving on at dinner.  It was roughly as long as his forearm, and about two finger widths wide through most of the length.  The rough bark had been carved away, and there were symbols and marks, inscrutable to most, carved deeply into the wood.  

He climbed up into the cab of the wagon, frowning when he was facing away from the others.  He wasn't as confident as he sounded, but mystery and ignorance kept wizards safe just as much as their actual magic.  He didn't want his party to know that much of his power had been stripped when he'd been imprisoned.  Creating a new wand felt almost like beginning his training again. Or maybe more like he was training the wand.  

"Let's get a move on, then, eh?"