Beginning Credits play over: Transylvania 1887
🎬 OPENING CREDITS (In our dreams, perhaps)
Melodic War Productions presents:
— Grimwild: Barovia
🕯️ 0:00–0:08 | Title Reveal
A lit candle flickers against a stained-glass window. A gust of wind snuffs it out.
As darkness deepens, faint glyphs burn across the screen—a six-pointed sigil spinning slowly.
BAROVIA
The title emerges as cracked stone covered in frost
🏡 0:09–0:20 | Village of Barovia
Wide shots of a decaying village.
Shutters closing just before you look.
Rainwater tracing veins down crooked walls.
The church bell swings without sound.
Quick flash of the Durst house - first complete, then folding in on itself
🙍♂️ 0:21–0:33 | The Wanderers
Split-second glimpses of the player characters through fog-framed vignettes:
Fleetwood (Richard Armitage) pacing beneath the shadow of a gallows.
Clarion (Gwendoline Christie) kneeling beside crumbled bones, whispering a blessing that makes the mist recoil.
Silverleaf (Tatiana Maslany) tasting blood, testing wind, and vanishing into branches.
Felonious (Ben Whishaw) scrawling arcane sigils on a bar counter with wine.
Greegan (Matt Ryan) flipping a coin by a wishing well—its reflection doesn’t match the face.
Starring
Richard Armitage as Fleetwood
Gwendoline Christie as Clarion
Tatiana Maslany as Silverleaf
Ben Whishaw as Felonious
Matt Ryan as Greegan
💍 0:46–0:58 | Symbols Beneath the Skin
A signet ring drops into a basin of dark water.
Symbols spiral outward.
A map of Barovia redraws itself in blood as unseen hands shuffle tarot cards off-screen.
🎵 0:59–1:10 | Final Note
The mist closes in.
Five shadows move through the Gates of Barovia.
The gate clangs shut—on its own.
The village beyond looks unchanged...
…but listens.
Main Title by Alan Silvestri
Fade to black.
COLD OPEN BEGINS.
🎬 Cold Open: Kolyan’s Mansion – Night
EXT. KOLYAN’S MANSION – NIGHT
Background Music: Encounter in Barovia | Unofficial Curse of Strahd Soundtrack | 1h TTRPG Combat Music | Loop
The wind howls through broken iron gates, bent outward like a predator’s jaw. Scorch marks claw across the stone facade. Claw gouges mar the frame where the front door swings gently in the breeze—abandoned, wounded.
FLEETWOOD staggers forward, CLARION limp in his arms. Behind him, PARRIWIMPLE carries ISMARK's unconscious form. GREEGAN trails, eyes scanning the hushed grounds.
GREEGAN (grim): “Looks like we missed the main event. Must’ve had their own way in.”
FLEETWOOD: (sour) “Same as those vermin in the sewers. Halav only knows where those tunnels lead.”
GREEGAN: (nods) “Wouldn't put coin on anyone still breathing to find out.”
Fleetwood gently lays Clarion down. SILVERLEAF joins him. Their blades whisper free of their scabbards as they approach the yawning doorway.
INT. MANSION – DRAWING ROOM – NIGHT
The house is swallowed by silence. Cold air slips through cracked windows. Inside the drawing room: a macabre tableau.
A slick of crimson halos KOLYAN’S lifeless body. His eyes—wide, glassy—stare past the rafters as a delicate gash oozes red from clavicle to stomach. Across the room, IREENA slumps beneath a window, boards crooked, the tattered curtains swaying like ghosts at vigil.
Silverleaf kneels, fingers to Kolyan’s neck. A beat. She lowers her head.
Fleetwood crouches beside Ireena. Her skin is snow-pale. Her pulse faint. He brushes hair from her neck. Two punctures gleam, raw and ragged.
TIGHT CLOSE-UP – FLEETWOOD
His pupils dilate. Breath held. Terror takes root.
FLEETWOOD (hoarse whisper) “Nosferatu...”
SILVERLEAF (near inaudible, shaking): “Draugmir...”
The shadows seem to shudder. Candlelight flickers. Fleetwood’s hand tightens around his hilt.
FLEETWOOD (quietly, resolute) “And it might still be here.”
The camera pulls back slowly. A lingering shot over their shoulders—into the hallway cloaked in black.
Montage Sequence: Inside Kolyan’s Mansion
INT. DARKENED HALLWAYS – NIGHT
The party fans out through shadow-cloaked corridors. Light bends strangely under Felonious’ spell, casting swirling halos in the dust-choked air. The silence is thick—too still, too deliberate.
MONTAGE BEGINS
Felonious’ hand glides along the wall—fingers brushing faded portraits with slit-eyed stares.
Greegan shifts aside a ruined armoire, revealing only cobwebs and collapsed plaster.
Silverleaf checks beneath layered curtains. Her blade gleams, her expression unreadable.
A chair overturned—its legs splintered, a child's toy half-buried in dust.
Parriwimple nudges open a cracked door. It creaks mournfully. Nothing but darkness inside.
INT. DINING ROOM – NIGHT
A soft growl vibrates beneath the silence. Two green orbs glint from under the table—unnatural in the low light.
Felonious steps forward, staff outstretched. His knuckles whiten. A sudden hiss. A flash of sharp, white teeth. A violent flurry of motion.
WHIP-PAN
A blazing orange cat erupts from the shadows, claws a blur. It slaps the staff with indignant fury and vanishes into the gloom as the party jumps back, weapons raised.
BEAT
Felonious’ laugh dies in his throat. He exhales. But none lower their weapons. The spelllight continues to hum.
CLOSE-UP – FELONIOUS
Eyes scanning the room. Unease etched in every angle of his face.
FELONIOUS (V.O.) “Found the cat. But what’s waiting for us in the places it avoided?”
INT. EMPTY ROOM – NIGHT
The camera glides down vacant halls. Every room checked. Every corner cleared.
MONTAGE ENDS
The house is quiet. Unbroken. But untouched by peace.
TIGHT SHOT – SILVERLEAF
Eyes narrow. Breath held. The stillness isn't a comfort—it’s a warning.
WIDE SHOT – KOLYAN’S MANOR
The party fans out across the hall, shadows trailing like oil. Each step echoes hollow against the stone floors—too loud, too alone.
Nothing skitters. No rustle behind walls. Not even the comforting rot of abandonment.
SILVERLEAF (quiet, disturbed) “No rats. No pests. Not even decay.”
Felonious stiffens, gaze moving like a predator in reverse.
FELONIOUS (low) “That doesn’t mean there’s nothing here. It means whatever’s lurking… doesn’t leave tracks.”
GREEGAN (shrugging, uneasy) “Even Bargle wouldn’t cross a Nosferatu.”
FLEETWOOD (steadily, rallying) “Still… we may be safer here—if we hold fast. Take these holy symbols. Keep them close.”
The candlelight sways unnaturally. Walls groan. Floorboards settle like breath in a sleeping beast.
They take positions.
Fleetwood, near the door—eyes burning through warped glass. His grip trembles, but only briefly. He’s lived nights like this before.
Silverleaf, crouched low—fingertips brushing the stone, listening for echoes no one else can hear.
Greegan, vigilant at the stairwell—chest barely moving, blade angled toward the descent.
Parriwimple, the sentinel—stationed beside the limp forms of Ismark and Ireena, his presence a wall. Fear is a foreign tongue, but he understands the tone.
FLASH CUTS
Silverleaf’s bow at full draw—air tense, silence louder than sound.
Fleetwood’s breath fogging the window.
Greegan’s knuckles whitening against the hilt.
Parriwimple adjusting Ireena’s blanket, eyes darting to the hallway.
The manor creaks. The wind slithers through cracks, whispering to itself. The Mists outside tighten their grip, swallowing distant life in an embrace of silence.
INT. KOLYAN’S MANOR – BEDROOM – NIGHT
SUPER: FOUR HOURS LATER
The manor hasn’t slept. The candles gutter. The silence remains unbroken—except for its own weight.
The party holds vigil. Breath slow. Weapons close.
Then—
SOUND: SHARP INHALE
Background music shifts: Lands of Barovia | Unofficial Curse of Strahd Soundtrack | 1h TTRPG Dark Background Music | Loop
Clarion jolts upright. Fleetwood is beside her in an instant, hand firm on her shoulder.
FLEETWOOD (soft, grounding) “Easy. You're safe. Just breathe.”
Clarion’s voice is dry, dragged from a place too deep to name.
CLARION (rasping) They're still out?
Silverleaf nods, the gesture almost imperceptible. Her eyes flit to the others.
SILVERLEAF (low, guarded) “Yes. It’s worse than we thought. Worse than what happened to you.”
She lifts Ireena’s hair, revealing the twin wounds on her throat—red against pale skin.
CLARION (still, steady) “Mortivorus. Vampire.” (beat) “My powers are weak. If it returns… I may not be enough.”
Fleetwood rises, gaze sweeping the room. The shadows under doors seem thicker now. The air, heavier.
FLEETWOOD (grim): “This night isn’t done testing us.”
FLASH MONTAGE
Fleetwood, leaning in the doorframe. His body taut, but eyes—haunted.
Silverleaf, rolling her shoulders, muscles sore from the drawn bow. She watches Clarion.
Greegan, tracing a finger along his blade before laying it aside. There’s no peace in the gesture.
Parriwimple, immovable beside Ismark and Ireena. Not afraid—but reverent, somehow.
DAWN BREAKS
A sliver of grey filters through the shattered windows. Dust glows in the beam.
Fleetwood finally breathes. Silverleaf lowers her bow. Greegan wipes his brow. Parriwimple nods once.
The house creaks—less a release, more a warning.
FADE TO BLACK
Cut to:
WIDE SHOT – INT. ABANDONED MANOR – DAWN
Background music shifts: Ismark Kolyanovich (Heroic Deeds Theme) | Unofficial Curse of Strahd Soundtrack | 1h Loop
Morning light bleeds into the manor, thin and unwilling. Shadows still drape the walls, reluctant to retreat. The air is dense—filled with fatigue, dread, and something still unnamed.
Clarion kneels beside Ismark, hands trembling as she brushes his cheek. A soft golden glow radiates from her palms—faint but pure. Ismark jerks with a gasp, eyes fluttering open, confusion clouding his face.
Clarion smiles—relief etched across her features. But the relief falters. There’s hesitation. A flicker of doubt.
She turns to Ireena, hands pressing over the puncture wounds, lips moving in prayer. A divine shimmer kindles beneath her fingers—
—but the wounds remain.
Clarion falters. Her breath catches. Her voice tightens as she tries again. The light pulses brighter, the words firmer.
Still, nothing.
Silverleaf waits, gaze fixed. Fleetwood shifts behind her. Greegan’s breath hisses out through clenched teeth. Parriwimple tightens his fists, silent.
Ismark, still groggy, turns toward his sister. His eyes lock onto the marks. Something inside him changes. The confusion burns away.
Clarion withdraws slowly, the silence heavy with failure. No one speaks, but everyone feels it:
She should have been able to stop this.
IREENA (soft, dazed): “F-father…?”
Ismark's head snaps to her. He blinks rapidly. Then moves.
Urgency propels him forward, legs shaky, heart loud. Fleetwood reaches out—
FLEETWOOD: “Ismark—wait.”
GREEGAN: (tense) “You're not ready to—”
Too late. Ismark bolts down the stairs, stumbling toward the main hall.
INT. MAIN HALL – MORNING
The floor creaks under Ismark’s sprint. The shadows peel back just enough to reveal the horror waiting.
His father.
Crushed. Cold. Still.
Ismark drops to his knees, hands hovering over the lifeless body.
ISMARK: (choked) “No…”
His fingers shake. His voice quivers.
ISMARK (broken whisper): “Father…?”
Only silence responds—unyielding. Vast. Final.
He sobs, the sound raw, echoing through the manor like a wound exposed.
WIDE SHOT – STAIRWELL
The others watch.
Fleetwood, jaw clenched.
Greegan, fists curled.
Silverleaf, head bowed.
Clarion—motionless, her hand covering her mouth.
The light has come.
But the grief has not left.
INT. ABANDONED MANOR – BEDROOM – DAWN
A dim thread of morning light snakes across the cracked floorboards—fragile, unwilling. The shadows refuse to lift, clinging to corners like old memories.
Clarion kneels at Ireena’s side. Her hands hover above the twin wounds—silent, glowing faintly. But the light finds no purchase. The bites remain: deliberate, defiant.
By the door, Fleetwood and Silverleaf hold their posts—silent sentinels against the creeping dark. Greegan shifts restlessly, eyes pinned to shuttered windows as if expecting the night to claw its way back inside.
Clarion steadies herself.
CLARION (low, careful) “Ireena… what happened here?”
Ireena's breath falters. Her eyes flicker—not with confusion, but recognition. Her fingers graze the bite marks, delicate as prayer.
A long, suspended pause.
Her voice is a whisper. Broken. Cold.
IREENA: “I… don’t remember everything.”
Her eyes drift to the edges of the room—the shadows thickest where light dares not reach.
IREENA (softer): “But I know that he was here. The Devil.” (beat) “And I know...”
She swallows. Her gaze unfocuses.
IREENA: “I didn’t fight.”
FADE TO BLACK. THEN—FADE IN.
FLASHBACK – INT. ABANDONED MANOR – NIGHT BEFORE
Candlelight dances uneasily along warped walls. Ireena moves with focus—arms full of crossbow bolts, breath shallow, urgency in every step.
Then—a voice.
Low. Familiar. Wrong.
KOLYAN (O.S.) (unnatural, hollow) “Come in.”
Background music shifts: Strahd von Zarovich | Unofficial Curse of Strahd Soundtrack | 1h TTRPG Dark Cello Theme | Loop
Ireena freezes. The room chills. Her eyes snap to the open door. A figure stands there.
WIDE SHOT – DOORWAY
Tall. Cloaked. Cloaked not in fabric—but in shadow. Eyes glow red—reptilian and patient. The darkness around him clings like ritual smoke.
His voice flows forward—not spoken, but slipped into her mind. (Once again, think Bill Skarsgaard in Nosferatu)
DRAUGMIR (O.S.) (blurred, invasive) “You’ve always kept the house warm”.
Ireena trembles. Her feet move—not hers. Her breath fractures. Then—
TIGHT CLOSE-UP – HER THROAT
The pain. Needles. Fire. And her father’s voice—shouting. Desperate.
KOLYAN (O.S.): “Ireena! No!”
SFX: Sharp steel slides free of its sheath. SFX: A wet, sudden impact—steel meeting flesh… but no cry follows.
The world tilts. Coldness blooms beneath her skin. Her grip fails. Crossbow bolts hit the floor. Darkness folds in.
Before it claims her, she hears him again.
DRAUGMIR (O.S.) (whispering) “We will meet again.”
🕯️ RETURN TO PRESENT – INT. BEDROOM – DAWN
Ireena lies motionless. Her fingers twitch. Her eyes glisten with horror. A realization anchors deep in her spine—she was willing.
Her breath stutters.
ISMARK stands in the doorway—rage crackling beneath the surface, fists clenched.
ISMARK (quiet, venomous): “The Devil… Strahd.”
WIDE SHOT – BEDROOM – DAWN
Background Music shifts: Ireena Kolyana (Theme) | Unofficial Curse of Strahd Soundtrack | 1h Theme | Loop
The light creeps in reluctantly, casting pale bars across the warped floor. It doesn’t reach the corners. Something still watches from the dark.
IREENA (disturbed, quiet): “Why did he come here? Why did he kill Father… and spare me?”
ISMARK (low, grim): “You know the legends. Red-haired women. Even if we don't believe them—others do. Barovia isn't safe for you anymore.”
IREENA (indignant, rising): “You have no right, Ismark. I’m not some burden to be cast aside! I’m Father's daughter. I stayed to fight. And I’m not afraid of the Devil.”
ISMARK (whispers): “Gertruda left the village yesterday. Alone.”
IREENA (strained): “Why?”
ISMARK (slow, dread-wrapped) “Her mother thinks she went to the castle.
To ask him for mercy.”
A beat. Ismark hesitates.
ISMARK (soft, deliberate): “I’m not asking you to run. But the people who fled to Vallaki… they need a voice. A leader. Maybe you can bring them home one day.”
TIGHT CLOSE-UP – IREENA
Her grip tightens on the blanket. Her jaw stiffens.
IREENA (low, reluctant) “I still don’t like it.”
TIGHT CLOSE-UP – ISMARK
ISMARK (quiet, pained) “It’s your choice. But I’ve already lost Father.
I can’t bear losing you too.”
WIDE SHOT – BEDROOM
Silence presses in again. The weight of grief and decision choking the room.
Then—
IREENA (soft, resolute) “I’ll go. But we bury Father first—together.”
She turns to the party. Her eyes are rimmed red, her voice raw
IREENA: “Ismark, see if your goat’s milk porridge still has magic in it.
I need a word with our new friends.”
Ismark exits slowly toward the kitchen. Ireena settles herself.
IREENA: “The mob yesterday... the Devil’s interest in me... My brother thinks I’m a threat. Maybe he’s right. Three favors. That’s all I ask. Even if I have no right to ask them.”
FLEETWOOD: “We’re listening.”
IREENA: “First—escort me to Vallaki. Ismark must stay here. But I need to reach St. Andral’s Church. Holy ground might protect us.”
FELONIOUS (smirking) : “Six impossible things before breakfast—it’s tradition.”
IREENA: “Second— The seeress, Madame Eva. She guided my father. If anyone can help free us from Strahd, it’s her.”
GREEGAN (grim) “Sounds delightful.”
IREENA: “Third—we bury my father. He defied the Devil. And no one else in this village will help.”
CLARION: “We’ll help. Gladly. Even if it’s not safe.”
SUDDEN CUT – BEDROOM CORNER
A faint rustle. A gleam.
GREEGAN’S POV – A rat stares from the corner. Unmoving. Listening.
In one swift motion—
SFX: Crossbow fires. Wet impact. Mess.
FLEETWOOD jumps, hand on sword.
They all stare.
Only the remains of a rat.
GREEGAN (coolly) “Didn’t like the way it was looking at me.”
FLEETWOOD (still tense) “Me neither.”
🔚 FADE OUT
End Credits play over: If I Was Your Vampire-Lyrics