Sessions 102 - 105: Tsolenka Pass Parts 1-4

Note on May 5, 2025: I'm back at the Curse of Strahd blog, posting for posterity's sake. We finished our campaign in March 2025. I'm using ChatGPT now to summarize my session notes into these blog posts. Thanks for your patience, constant readers. - Ben

Sessions 102 - 105: Tsolenka Pass Parts 1-4 An Ongoing "Curse of Strahd" Campaign Chronicle

The Gang — Bentham Locke, Kyros Glowbasher, Levo Stonescourge, Sobprym Moorgaj, and Ruckus Basta — along with their allies Ireena and Kasimir, have begun their harrowing ascent up Mount Ghakis en route to the infamous Amber Temple. Their destination: a legendary weapon of sunlight, the Sunsword, the key to vanquishing the vampire lord Strahd.

But before they can reach the Amber Temple, they must first cross the deadly Tsolenka Pass — a windswept mountain road that’s as cursed as it is cold. What follows is a four-session descent (or ascent?) into madness, monsters, and mischief.

Sessions 102: Tsolenka Pass - Part 1: Tsolenka Pass Date: January 31, 2023 Day 36 in Barovia Party Level: 9 Location: Tsolenka Pass, Mount Ghakis

The wind screamed down the side of Mount Ghakis, lashing snow across the narrow switchbacks of the ancient road. The Gang—Bentham Locke, Kyros Glowbasher, Levo Stonescourge, Sobprym Moorgaj, and Ruckus Basta—tightened their cloaks as they pressed onward, their breaths frosting in the frozen air. Behind them: Barovia. Ahead: the Amber Temple and the Sunsword, their only hope to defeat the dread lord Strahd.

But first, they would have to survive Tsolenka Pass.

"The road curved and climbed..."

Strahd himself once wrote of the pass in his dark memoirs:

"The road curved and climbed, making a lengthy switchback into this edge of Mount Ghakis. The air grew colder, not warmer, and patches of snow became more frequent until they were unbroken." And now The Gang experienced that brutal chill firsthand.

Kasimir, the dusk elf and reluctant companion, trudged beside them, recounting the grim history of the route: a once-busy thoroughfare used by the mages of the Amber Temple to haul arcane materials and the cursed amber sarcophagi of the vestiges. Reclaimed for a time by Argynvost’s valiant knights, the road had long since fallen back into icy disrepair, forgotten and haunted.

The Gatehouse of Fire

The trail ended at a black wall, lined with demon-spiked battlements and a central portcullis obscured by a searing curtain of green flame. Beyond, a white guard tower gripped the cliff like a skeletal hand. High above, golden warrior statues watched in silence. Or so it seemed.

“This looks welcoming,” Sobprym muttered, tossing a metal mug tied to a rope through the flaming barrier. The mug came back melted, hissing and glowing green.

“If it’s magical, I can unmagic it,” Kyros declared. He muttered a few arcane syllables, eyes glowing. A natural 20 Arcana check later, Dispel Magic parted the flame like a curtain in the wind.

The Gang dashed through—just in time for the statues to screech to life.

The golden warriors weren’t statues at all. They were vrocks—petrified demonic vultures—and now, very much alive and extremely pissed off.

Combat at the Cliffside

Ireena, newly leveled and eager for bloodshed, cracked her knuckles.

“’Bout time,” Levo grinned, “You’re finally useful!” “We’ll see who racks up more kills, Stonescourge,” she smirked back.

The battle was on.

ROUND ONE

Kasimir shielded himself with Mage Armor.
Kyros, playing acid rainmaker, hurled a Chromatic Orb at Vrock #2—26 points of sizzling pain.
Ruckus called forth two Giant Eagles, wings thunderous as they divebombed the demons.
Sobprym, the bearded bard, strummed out Bardic Inspiration and ducked for cover.
Levo entered RAGE, eyes alight with bloodlust, and readied a vertical leap worthy of song.
Bentham took up position, sword raised, waiting for the right moment.

The vrocks retaliated viciously:

One screeched, a horrific sonic attack that rattled the mountain and nearly burst Levo’s eardrums.
Talons slashed and poisonous spores burst from their feathers in choking clouds.

ROUND TWO: A Symphony of Violence

Kyros doubled down with more acid orbs, melting feathers and flesh—Vrock #2 staggered, bloodied and sizzling.
Sobprym, seeking a height advantage, climbed onto Levo’s shoulders, declaring:

“Now I shall smite from on high!” His Thunderwave cracked the air and knocked one vrock from its perch.

The Giant Eagles tore into Vrock #1 with beaks and talons, spilling black ichor onto the stone.
Ruckus, ever the bird whisperer, summoned a shadowy unkindness of ravens, which shrieked and clawed at the demons like a murder made manifest.
Levo high-jumped thirty feet and speared Vrock #2 through the chest with his bloodstained glaive.
Sobprym promptly tumbled from Levo’s shoulders.

Spores exploded again—targeting Bentham and Kyros this time—but they powered through, coughing and laughing.

“If I die here,” Bentham choked, “just make sure my corpse doesn’t roll off the cliff.” “We’ll embalm you in feathers,” Kyros wheezed. “Like a chicken god.”

A distant avian shriek echoed over the peaks—deeper, louder. Not a vrock. Something bigger was coming.

End of Session 102

The Gang stood bloodied but triumphant among the fallen bodies of the vrocks. The air smelled of scorched feathers and acid-burnt flesh. Snow swirled around them, and far beyond the pass, the shadow of the Amber Temple loomed ever closer.

But they weren’t alone on the mountain.

Something was watching.

Next Time: Session 103 - Tsolenka Pass Pt. 2 Will The Gang face the monstrous bird they heard in the blizzard? What lies inside the guard tower? And what forgotten horrors guard the path to the temple?

Stay tuned. The climb continues.

***

Session 103: Tsolenka Pass – Part 2: Caged Werewolf Date: February 7, 2023 Day 37 in Barovia Party Level: 9 Location: Tsolenka Pass, Mount Ghakis

The storm never relents on Mount Ghakis. Wind howls like a banshee and the snow falls sideways, but The Gang presses onward. After a brutal encounter with two vrocks—demonic carrion birds disguised as statues—our heroes stumble upon a crumbling guard tower from a bygone age. But the tower holds more than just dust and dragonscale decor…

It holds a prisoner. A werewolf. And not just any werewolf.

But first—the Gang still has demons to slay.

The Final Flaps of the Vrocks

When we last left The Gang, they were mid-battle with the two hulking vrocks atop the Tsolenka battlements. Their feathers smoldered. Their blood blackened the snow.

Round 3 of Combat: The team was in full form.

Kasimir unleashed a Fireball, but warned, “I fear they are immune to cold damage!” (They weren’t—but they were resistant to fire).
Ruckus let loose a flurry of arrows, skewering the vrocks with pinpoint precision. Their wings tattered like wet parchment.
Kyros offered his usual brand of eldritch fury (with a helpful dose of sarcasm).
Levo and Sobprym pulled off a truly inspired move:
Sobprym: “You know what to do.” Levo: “Fastball Special?” Sobprym: “I was born to fly, baby.”

Levo hurled the bard like a dwarf-shaped javelin. With the help of a Bardic Inspiration die, the trajectory was true. Sobprym spun midair like a deadly sawblade, slamming into Vrock #2 and bringing it crashing down in a heap of bones and acid-bleeding organs. The bard landed hard on his behind in the snow.

“Ten outta ten for style,” Kyros said. “Zero outta ten for spine health,” Sobprym groaned.

The Tower and the Caged Werewolf

With the vrocks vanquished, the Gang entered the guard tower, a ruined outpost of Argynvost’s fallen order. Inside: ice-coated walls, rotting crates, and a long-dead hearth flanked by two silver dragon statues. Above the hearth hung a frostbitten shield emblazoned with a silver dragon. They left it—it looked more cursed than cool.

But not everything had rotted with time.

Sobprym tapped a crate with his Mace of Terror, whispering, “Open sesame.” Inside: well-preserved treasures—a bundle of silver-tipped arrows, silver-coated chains, and manacles.

“I call dibs on the shiny cuffs,” Sobprym said, twirling the manacles like party favors.

Upstairs, the real discovery awaited:

In the cold shadow of the stone walls sat a five-foot iron cage, silver chains coiled around a shivering man, his face twisted in anguish. A once-proud figure, now gaunt, barely clinging to warmth or hope.

This was Emil Toranescu, rival to Kiril—the mad Alpha of the werewolves. Emil’s wife had made a deal with The Gang back in Vallaki to rescue him. He was their only shot at destabilizing Barovia’s most vicious pack.

Emil: “Meat... please. Get me out of this cage... Ludmilla put me here. I’ve heard her chanting in the dark. She’s preparing something.” Ruckus, ever the druid, offered: “Want a Goodberry?” Emil, glaring: “MEAT.”

Levo: “What time of day is it? Someone check a farmer’s almanac—I need to know if this guy’s about to hulk out.”

The cage was locked, and Emil was too large to slip through. So The Gang did what any chaotic-good adventuring party would do:

Polymorph.

Bentham: “We could try Polymorphing him into something small.” Sobprym: “NO CONSENT REQUIRED!” With a flash of bardic mischief, Emil was a mouse. The mouse gave a squeaky snarl, scurried through the bars, and transformed back. He blinked. Then hugged them all.

The WereHug was warm. And hairy.

Crucially, the Gang avoided tripping a Glyph of Warding—a magical alarm that would have alerted Ludmilla, one of Strahd’s vampiric brides, to their intrusion.

“That’s what we call professional burglary,” Kyros said, brushing snow off his shoulders.

The Bridge and the Shadow

They left the tower. Snow swirled harder now, as if the mountain knew they were close to something sacred—and dangerous.

Tsolenka’s stone bridge stretched ahead of them, a narrow span carved from the cliffside, arching over a dizzying plunge into fog. And in the center of the bridge, waiting like a spider in the middle of a web:

Rahadin. Strahd’s dusk elf chamberlain. General. Butcher of the dusk elf purges.

His eyes were hollow and gleaming. His blades were unsheathed.

The Gang didn’t speak. Neither did Rahadin. The wind howled around them.

And that’s where we ended.

Next Time: Session 104 – Tsolenka Pass, Part 3: The Bridge Duel

Will Rahadin let them pass? Will the bridge run red with blood? And just how close is Ludmilla to completing her ritual in the Amber Temple?

The Gang is almost there. But so is the darkness.

Stay tuned.

***

Session 104: Tsolenka Pass – Part 3: Rahadin and the Roc Date: February 28, 2023 Day 37 in Barovia Party Level: 9 Location: Tsolenka Pass, Mount Ghakis

When you’re halfway up a cursed mountain in a blizzard, standing on a narrow stone bridge with an abyss yawning beneath you, the last thing you want is a diplomatic envoy from Castle Ravenloft. But that’s what The Gang got.

Oh, and also a roc the size of a cathedral.

Welcome to Tsolenka Pass, Part 3.

Rahadin and the Ultimatum

The session began with The Gang facing Rahadin, Strahd’s chamberlain and eternal hype-man, who was standing dead-center on the Tsolenka bridge—black cloak billowing, sword at his hip, a sneer on his lips.

He came bearing… offers?

Rahadin: “Strahd thanks you for silencing Baba Lysaga. She was becoming… a nag.” [the Gang looks at each other] Rahadin (smiling): “Hand over Ireena and the Tome of Strahd. Turn back from the Amber Temple, and you may leave Barovia. The Mists will part.”

Levo: “We’ll get right on that… when the sun comes out.” Sobprym: “Also, did anyone else hear ‘I surrender’ in all that?” Rahadin: “No.” Sobprym: “Guess I imagined it.”

And with that… INITIATIVE WAS ROLLED.

The Battle on the Bridge

As the storm howled louder, arrows whistled from the shadows. Four wights, undead archers loyal to Rahadin, emerged and loosed volleys. Only one hit — Levo caught an arrow in his side and barely flinched.

Round 1 Highlights:

Sobprym hurled a Vicious Mockery at Rahadin:
“Your surprise attack lacked style, dear.” (Rahadin made the save, but the sass still landed.)
Ruckus answered with a Conjure Barrage, striking Rahadin and two wights. Then: Hunter’s Mark on Rahadin. Game on.
Levo RAGED, hurled a javelin, and closed the distance.
Kyros, not to be outdone, dropped a Fireball on the bridge—searing heat lighting up the blizzard.
Bentham, paladin in gleaming armor, activated the Holy Symbol of Ravenkind, bathing the area in radiant energy.
“Light versus shadow. Let’s dance.”

Rahadin snarled and retaliated, striking Levo hard with two sword slashes. Blood spattered the snow. He tried to Misty Step away—but Kyros Counterspelled it with a smirk.

Kyros: “No disappearing acts today, you melodramatic elf.”

The Roc Arrives

Just when things couldn’t escalate further…

THE ROC OF MOUNT GHAKIS —a creature of myth, wingspan large enough to blot out the sun—DIVED from the clouds above.

“A creature of unearthly size — a bird so monstrous that its wings blot out the sky…”

Its screech turned bones to ice. It landed with a gust that nearly knocked The Gang off their feet. First, it grabbed a wight, bit it in half, and spat it out in disgust.

Sobprym: “Bird’s got taste. Unlife doesn’t sit well on the stomach.”

Then it locked eyes on Kyros. Meaty. Unarmored. Crunchy wizard center.

Round 3: Chaos Unleashed

Sobprym healed Levo with a quick song.
The Roc grabbed Kyros in its talons, lifting off toward the cliff edge!
Kyros: “This is not how I wanted to die!!”
Ruckus launched two arrows into the roc’s feathery backside, making it screech in pain.
Levo, unrelenting, continued battering Rahadin with primal fury.
Wights missed Bentham and readied more attacks.

Then, in a glorious flurry of spellcasting:

Kyros Misty Stepped free of the roc’s grip midair—then hit it with Hold Monster.

The colossal bird froze mid-flight, wings locked up.

“Uh,” said Sobprym, “someone catch the turkey.”

Bentham cast Crusader’s Mantle, buffing the party with radiant might.
Sobprym followed with a THUNDERWAVE — the roc NAT 1’d its Con Save and began to plummet.

DM Note: THIS WAS WILD.

The roc spiraled like a meteor into the snowy crags below. The bridge trembled.

Rahadin looked up at the chaos.

“You’re all insane,” he hissed. Kyros (dusting snow off his robes): “You're just mad we’re better at it.”

End of Session

Rahadin was wounded. His undead minions decimated. The roc—a creature of legend—crippled and vanishing into the mist. The Gang remained—bruised but breathing.

They were close now. The Amber Temple loomed ahead, dark and waiting.

But so did Ludmilla. So did the secrets of Strahd’s past. And somewhere in those frozen halls… the Sunsword.

Next Time: Session 105 – The Amber Temple Beckons How much deeper can darkness get? The Gang is about to find out.

***

Session 105: Tsolenka Pass - Part 4: Wereraven Gifts and The Entrance to the Amber Temple March 7, 2023 // Day 37 in Barovia // Party Level: 9

Snow claws at their faces like icy fingers. The howling wind shrieks through the mountain pass as The Gang—Bentham Locke, Kyros Glowbasher, Levo Stonescourge, Sobprym Moorgaj, and Ruckus Basta—stands bloodied but victorious on the frozen bridge of Tsolenka Pass. After a titanic battle against Rahadin, Strahd’s right hand, and a flesh-rending roc whose wings eclipsed the sky, the Gang has weathered another storm in Barovia’s endless nightmare.

The carnage still steams in the snow.

❄️ Roc Down, Wights Dead, and Rahadin Fled

Round 4 picked up mid-chaos. Sobprym stepped forward, beard crusted with frost, and unleashed a Thunderwave so ferocious it shattered the air. The roc, wings stiff from Kyros’ Hold Monster, failed its save and plummeted into the ravine with a shriek that echoed for miles. Somewhere below, it burst like a sack of meat against the rocks.

Levo, blood trickling from a dozen wounds, grunted and lobbed a javelin through the face of a fleeing wight, sending shards of skull and rotten molars spinning into the wind. “That’s fer interruptin’ lunch,” he muttered.

Ruckus was more poetic: “I don’t always shoot undead in the butt—but when I do, I do it twice.” His arrows had dropped one wight already and now helped clear the last.

Kyros, who had been seized by the roc mere moments earlier, barely stood upright. “Note to self,” he panted, brushing himself off. “Flying is vastly overrated unless you’re conscious for it.” Bentham reached him just in time with a Lay on Hands, divine warmth knitting bones and soothing torn muscles.

The snow slowly settled. Silence fell again, as if the mountain itself were holding its breath.

🕊️ Bird Mail! Rewards from the Keepers of the Feather

As the Gang moved across the crumbling stone bridge to the Eastern Arch, two black shapes flitted through the air. Wereravens. With eyes sharper than the wind and wings struggling against the gusts, the messengers from the Keepers of the Feather descended.

“BIRD MAIL!” Ruckus whooped with joy. “Please let it be more goodberries. Or socks.”

The ravens cawed and dropped a satchel from their talons, landing in the snow with a muffled thud. Inside, a note from Davian Martikov of the Wizard of the Wines:

“Your slaying of Baba Lysaga and the recovery of the second gemstone has ensured Barovia’s fields will bloom again. Strahd’s roots are weakening. We thank you.”

And in the satchel...

Ruckus received Boots of Elvenkind: no more crunchy leaves giving away his ambushes.

Kyros was gifted a Ring of Spell Storing, already loaded with See Invisibility. “Finally,” he said, slipping it on, “I can know if Ruckus is stealing snacks.”
Levo—with a grin as wide as the mountain—took hold of a Horn of Blasting. “It screams when I blow it? That’s incredible.”

Sobprym was notably not included. “Ah yes, and what shall the bard get? Appreciation? Good feelings? Exposure?” he muttered, arms crossed.

🏛️ Secrets in Stone – Arrival at the Amber Temple

After a brief rest, the Gang pressed onward, trudging through wind-lashed snowdrifts until the mountain road faded beneath their boots. But there it was—looming ahead, half-buried in white:

"The facade of some kind of temple carved into the sheer mountainside. Six alcoves held twenty-foot-tall statues of faceless, hooded figures, each carved from a single block of amber. Their hands pressed in prayer. Between the two innermost statues, a black archway led into darkness."

They had reached the Amber Temple, the heart of Barovia’s deepest evil.

“I’ve seen prettier crypts,” Sobprym said, peering into the shadows. “It’s supposed to be horrifying,” Kyros replied. “If it had curtains and candles, it’d be a vampire’s Airbnb.”

🧊 Lore and Cold Warnings

Thanks to intel from Kasimir Velikov, the dusk elf sorcerer who accompanied them, they learned the temple was built over two millennia ago by good-aligned wizards. It was a prison for evil vestiges—remnants of ancient, malevolent entities. Eventually, the evil inside corrupted its creators. One visitor, the archmage Exethanter, turned himself into a lich and took control. Now, mad and forgetful, Exethanter still dwells within the temple, guarding secrets too terrible to speak.

It was here that Strahd made his pact. Here, he learned to become a vampire. Here, he sealed Barovia’s curse in blood.

“So, we’re heading deeper into the place where evil eats evil?” Levo grunted. “Just makin’ sure I’m tracking.”

Extreme cold licked at them from the very stones. Without magical protection or warm gear, the Temple would chew through their strength as surely as its corrupting whispers.

🧠 X4 - Overlook and the Voice of Neferon

The Gang descended icy steps into the entrance, their breath fogging. Black marble balconies stretched into gloom. Vast staircases led down to the main temple floor. Walls and ceilings shimmered faintly with a golden amber sheen.

Suddenly, a telepathic voice thundered in their heads: “You who enter the Amber Temple... have you come to steal the secrets?”

“Depends,” Kyros muttered. “Are the secrets cool secrets?”

The voice belonged to Neferon, an arcanaloth—a jackal-headed outsider from the Lower Planes—who watched newcomers from the shadows of the overlook. He did not strike, not yet. But his intent was unclear, and the Gang could feel the pressure building in their minds, like a claw scratching at the inside of their skulls.

🧩 Closing Thoughts: Standing on the Edge

With new magic items, blood on their weapons, and only the barest whisper of warmth left in their bones, The Gang stood in the belly of Barovia’s worst-kept secret. They had finally reached the Amber Temple, but what awaited them beyond the amber doors?

Ancient entities offering power... The secret to Strahd’s pact... And perhaps the Sunsword itself.

One wrong step, and The Gang could become just another group of skulls whispering in the dark.

“Well,” said Bentham, adjusting his armor, “if this place doesn’t kill us... we might actually have a shot.”

“Oh it’ll definitely try,” Sobprym quipped. “But at least we’ll be warm in hell.”

Next Time: The Temple’s Whispering Walls... and Temptation’s Voice.

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