Opening credits play over: Transylvania 1887
OPENING CREDITS (Revised: “Within Vallaki”) Melodic War Productions presents:
🕯️ 0:00–0:08 | Title Reveal: The Lantern Settles A lantern sways above Vallaki’s gate—its flame steady, but dimmer now, as if bracing for what’s already inside. Boot prints converge in muddied cobblestone. A ribbon, once tied to a skeletal tree, now hangs limp from the hinge—frayed, faded, forgotten. A deck of cards lies scattered on the guardhouse floor, half-buried in ash. The screen exhales: VALLAKI, etched into a rusted plaque. The camera pans upward—walls tall, torches guttering, rooftops hunched like shoulders in the cold.
🌲 0:09–0:20 | The Town Breathes The gates creak wider. Inside: narrow streets, shuttered windows, festival banners limp in the wind. A child watches from behind a curtain. A raven lands on a rooftop, caws once, then vanishes. A hand—weathered, ringed, trembling—reaches into frame and turns over a card nailed to the gatepost: The Artifact. A charm of bone and braid dangles from the latch, spinning slowly—this time, with no wind at all.
🚶♂️ 0:21–0:33 | The Travelers Within The wanderers move through the gate, marked not by arrival—but by intrusion:
Fleetwood (Richard Armitage) walks with his blade half-drawn, eyes scanning windows now, not treetops.
Clarion (Gwendoline Christie) moves like a storm held in check, her shield catching torchlight like a warning.
Silverleaf (Tatiana Maslany) watches the raven above, fingers brushing stone walls like reading a forgotten language.
Felonious (Ben Whishaw) mutters incantations—quieter, sharper—the air around him twitching with restrained magic.
Greegan (Matt Ryan) rolls bone dice on a windowsill. They clatter once. The Beast. The Broken One.
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 | The Fortunes Shift Again The scattered cards rise again—this time inside the town. Five remain suspended: The Artifact. The Beast. The Innocent. The Broken One. The Darklord. As each is drawn, the town reacts—windows slam shut, bells toll once, a scream echoes from somewhere unseen. Behind the cards, Strahd’s silhouette flickers—reflected in a puddle, distorted by ripples.
🎵 0:59–1:10 | Final Note: The Gate Closes The party walks deeper into Vallaki. The gate creaks shut behind them. The final card lands in Clarion’s hand: The Innocent. The ravens above scatter. The fog curls into the shape of a noose—then dissipates. The road no longer leads forward. It coils inward.
🎼 Main Title by Alan Silvestri
COLD OPEN BEGINS:
EXT. BLUE WATER INN — VALLAKI TOWN SQUARE — MORNING MIST
Background Music: Encounter in Vallaki | Unofficial Curse of Strahd Soundtrack | 1h Combat Music | Loop
Fog clings to the cobblestones like a cat that refuses to leave. The party steps out into a silence so taut it feels like breath held too long. Then—hoofbeats. Distant. Multiplying. Echoing like war drums.
ANGLE ON townsfolk scattering, shutters slamming, doors locking. A procession emerges through the mist.
THE BARON’S PARADE
BARON VARGAS VALLAKOVICH rides at the center, flanked by mismatched GUARDS with blank stares. Behind them, slobbering MASTIFFS strain at chains. Towering beside the Baron is IZEK STRAZNI—his demon-arm wrapped in leather, his eyes bloodshot and scanning.
But it’s the third rider who freezes the party: BARGLE THE INFAMOUS, robes shimmering wrong, wand tapping like a metronome for murder.
BARON VALLAKOVICH (cheerful, too cheerful) Another glorious day in the sunshine of optimism! (points at a woman) Arrest her. She looked morose.
He dismounts with theatrical flair, nearly trips, then kicks aside an elderly woman who clutches his cloak.
IZEK STRAZNI: (low growl, to Felonious) “I don’t like wizards.”
FELONIOUS: (dry) “That’s fine. The feeling’s blissfully mutual.
Izek’s arm twitches beneath the bracer. His necklace of crude wooden dolls swings—each carved with Ireena’s face.
CLARION: (whispers) “How is Bargle here?”
GREEGAN: (slowly) “We lost him. In Mystara. That house—”
FELONIOUS : “The Durst house. We tracked him there... before everything... bled. He must have gotten in there somehow - and out, without us seeing him.”
He rubs his temple. Fleetwood spits.
FLEETWOOD: “Then maybe we should bury him there.”
Bargle tips his hat, smile curling like smoke.
BARGLE: (delighted) “Hawk Fleetwood? Felonious? Why, you’re all here. Oh, I do love reunions.”
ANGLE ON the Baron, oblivious to the venom riding beside him. The party watches. The square holds its breath again.
The door to the Blue Water Inn swings shut behind the party as the procession halts.
ANGLE ON BARON VARGAS VALLAKOVICH — velvet-cloaked, tricorn-crowned, a ruin dressed in swagger. He kicks aside an OLD WOMAN clutching a crumpled petition.
She stumbles. Her parchment flutters into the mud like a dying moth.
BARON VALLAKOVICH: (crooning) “All will be well, Grandmother. Just... not for you.”
Fleetwood’s hand finds his sword hilt. He doesn’t draw. Yet.
FLEETWOOD: “You treat your subjects like vermin. That woman has more courage than your entire guard.”
The Baron turns. His smile is all teeth and no warmth.
BARON VALLAKOVICH: “Ah. But you’re no knight of mine, are you, stranger? Watch your tongue—or you’ll share a sunset with the stocks and a cabbage for company.”
ANGLE ON Izek Strazni. His demonic arm pulses beneath leather wrappings. His eyes catch on a cloaked figure behind Clarion—
IREENA.
Her red hair is hidden beneath gray cloth. But her poise, her profile—he knows it.
His face twists. Not in rage. In awe. In obsession.
His hand drifts to the string of crude dolls at his belt. Each one carved with her face.
Ireena doesn’t blink. Doesn’t speak. But the mask she wears begins to crack.
Greegan shifts, shielding her instinctively.
Felonious watches Izek. Then Bargle. Bargle’s grin deepens.
Clarion touches Ireena’s elbow. Silverleaf mutters:
SILVERLEAF: “It begins.”
Fog curls low around departing hooves. A grim parade with nowhere to go but forward.
BARON VALLAKOVICH mounts his horse with a rustle of ridiculous velvet.
BARON VALLAKOVICH: “Ungrateful peasants. Grim-faced vagabonds.”
He glances back.
BARON VALLAKOVICH: “Izek, look sharp for Zhindel’s sake. You’re staring like a lovesick gargoyle.”
Izek jerks, caught haunting himself.
IZEK STRAZNI: “Sorry, Baron.”
BARON VALLAKOVICH: “Sorry doesn’t butter the festival flyers! Next time, you wear the grin—or the stocks wear you.”
Bargle chuckles into his gloved hand. The sound is like bones dropped into wine.
BARGLE: “Love is dangerous in Barovia. But obsession? That’s practically currency.”
ANGLE ON two GUARDS dragging the sobbing OLD WOMAN toward the square’s center. Her sandal slips off. She doesn’t notice.
Greegan snorts. Fingers tap his knife hilt.
GREEGAN: “Lovely. If that’s how he treats his own, no wonder the refugees are bruised and begging.”
Fleetwood watches the guards disappear. The stocks loom like waiting teeth.
FLEETWOOD: “We letting that stand?”
Clarion’s eyes sharpen. Silverleaf scans rooftops. Felonious doesn’t look up.
FELONIOUS: “Freeing her would be statistically unwise. Ethically justified. Probably loud.” (beat, and then a wicked grin) “But totally worth it.”
Ireena’s hood stays up. Her hand tightens around her dagger.
IREENA: “Do it. She deserves better than being left behind.”
The mists drift closer. Listening.
Cut to:
ANGLE ON GREEGAN — his grin flickers like a lantern catching wind.
GREEGAN: “Absolutely. I’ve just had the most interesting idea.”
CUT TO:
ANGLE ON TWO GUARDS fumbling with the OLD WOMAN at the stocks. She trembles. They argue.
GUARD #1 The latch’s stuck again.
GUARD #2 She’s probably cursed. Smells like it.
FX: EARSPLITTING SCREECH
From beneath a crumbling barrel, an alley cat launches into the square like it’s been briefed for war. Mottled fur. Eyes like twin death threats.
TIED TO ITS TAIL: a small potion bottle, corked but sloshing ominously.
CUT TO: FELONIOUS, whispering behind a stall.
FELONIOUS: “Greegan! I told you not to use the red one. That’s my Experimental Vapor Curdle No. 3...”
The cat zips between the guards, claws flashing, howling like it’s seen the end of days. It leaps—zigzags—
CLINK—CRACK!
The bottle hits cobblestones. Bursts.
A mustard-yellow cloud rolls out like an angry fog bank with opinions.
FX: GAGGING. SWEARING. BOOTS SQUELCHING IN VAPOROUS REGRET.
GUARD #1: “What in the Nine Hells is that!?”
GUARD #2: “It got in my soul! I can taste my ancestors!”
The OLD WOMAN drops to her knees, coughing—but free.
Across the square, GREEGAN, SILVERLEAF, and CLARION move like shadows.
FLEETWOOD throws his cloak over her shoulders.
FLEETWOOD: “Let’s go. Move like the smell’s chasing you.”
IREENA helps her up, murmuring something soft in Barovian.
FELONIOUS, nose wrinkled, scribbling notes.
FELONIOUS: “Confirming: When catalyzed by mammal panic, vapor spread increases threefold. Noted.”
The guards retch. The fog rolls on.
The cat, furious and free, disappears into the alleys like a legend.
ANGLE ON the party vanishing into the mist.
MISSION: VERY WEIRDLY ACCOMPLISHED.
Cut to:
EXT. VALLAKI ALLEYWAY - EVENING
Mist clings like mildew. Beyond the butcher’s stall, the party huddles in shadow. The scent of Felonious’s vaporous chaos still lingers in their cloaks.
The OLD WOMAN pulls Fleetwood’s cloak tighter around her frail shoulders. Her eyes—rheumy, but clear—flick between the companions. Gratitude. Shame.
OLD WOMAN I only wanted to speak to the Baron. Just a word. A plea.
Clarion crouches beside her, voice soft and steady.
CLARION Plea for what?
The woman swallows. Her hands tremble.
OLD WOMAN For my son. Udo. He’s just a cobbler. Barely makes enough to keep a roof. He said something foolish about the Baron’s festivals... That there’s no joy in forced grins.
She sniffs, voice cracking.
OLD WOMAN (CONT'D) They dragged him from his shop. No hearing. No prayer. Three days in the stocks—no food, no cover from the rain.
Silverleaf’s jaw tightens.
SILVERLEAF Udo Luković? I saw his work in Barovia. Stitched shoes like they were prayers.
OLD WOMAN That’s him. And now his hands bleed not from needles... but nails.
Greegan mutters, dark and low.
GREEGAN Arrested for cobbling and common sense. That tracks.
Felonious scribbles in the margin of a spellbook.
FELONIOUS If forced jubilation is treason... We’re all criminals already.
Fleetwood stares toward the square. His fists clench.
FLEETWOOD And that’s who the Baron tosses aside like scraps. No wonder the town rots from the crown down.
The woman looks up. Fierce beneath exhaustion.
OLD WOMAN If you mean to stop him—bless you. But if not... Don’t waste your courage on old widows. He won’t stop until none of us have names left to say.
The party falls silent. Mist curls around their boots. Somewhere, a bell tolls.
Cut to:
EXT. VALLAKI, NEAR TOWN SQUARE - LATE EVENING
The alley is quieter now. The rescued woman has vanished into the folds of fog. The square still stinks—moral rot and mustard-yellow vapor lingering like a bad omen.
The party lingers. Warier. Sharper.
ANGLE ON FLEETWOOD — adjusting his gauntlet with a grunt. He casts a glance over his shoulder, toward the path the Baron took—leaving bruises and bile in his wake.
FLEETWOOD: “So... You still planning to talk sense into that jackass?”
IREENA doesn’t answer right away. She watches the crowd settle around the chaos, like bones re-forming around old bruises. Her hood shifts in the breeze.
IREENA: “Yes.”
Fleetwood’s brow furrows. He steps closer.
FLEETWOOD: “He’s not listening, Ireena. Not to reason. Not to anything that doesn’t sound like his own laugh echoing off empty walls.”
She turns. Quiet steel in her gaze—the same look she wore when she defied wolves in the wild.
IREENA: “I don’t expect him to change. But he’s taken something from these people—hope. Safety. Sons.” (beat) “If I’m going to ask St. Andral’s for sanctuary... I need to earn it. Not hide from it.”
Her jaw clenches.
IREENA (CONT'D:)” If Udo stays in the stocks while I cower behind cathedral walls... Then Barovia doesn’t need me. They need someone braver.”
CLARION nods slowly. Respect dawning in her eyes.
FELONIOUS grunts, flipping a page in his spellbook.
FELONIOUS: “Diplomacy with a brick wall. Still... sometimes you need a sledgehammer with manners.”
GREEGAN grins, already scheming.
GREEGAN: “Just say the word. I’ll make sure the distraction smells better this time.”
SILVERLEAF scans the rooftops, voice low.
SILVERLEAF: “He’s not the only one watching her. The Baron’s not the scariest thing in this town.”
Fleetwood sighs, scrubbing a hand down his beard.
FLEETWOOD: “Fine. We do it your way. But when it all goes to hell... Don’t expect us to stay silent while the flames rise.”
IREENA’s eyes soften—not gratitude. Something quieter. Relief, maybe. That someone will walk into the fire beside her.
IREENA: “I never expected silence. Not from any of you.”
FLEETWOOD: “We’ve got one more thing before we see the Burgomaster.” (He holds up the coin bag he got from Madame Eva) “We need to see a man about a toy.”
A RAVEN circles overhead. Mist coils around distant spires. The wind shifts.
VALLAKI WAITS.
CUT TO:
EXT. VALLAKI — BLINKSY’S TOY SHOP — EARLY EVENING
Background music shifts: Blinsky's Toystore | Unofficial Curse of Strahd Soundtrack | 1h TTRPG Background Music | Loop
The sky bruises purple as the party approaches a crooked storefront nestled between shuttered bakeries and a boarded-up apothecary. A wooden sign swings overhead, creaking in the wind:
“IS NO FUN, IS NO BLINKSY!”
Inside: flickering candlelight. Silhouettes of dolls and marionettes twitch behind warped glass. A mechanical monkey clings to the window frame, its cymbals rusted shut.
FLEETWOOD: “This is the place. Madame Eva said they’d have something for this girl Arabelle.”
CLARION: “Are you sure? Even the toys look scary in this place.”
FELONIOUS: “Prophecy rarely arrives in packaging that makes sense.”
GREEGAN : “If the toys bite, I’m biting back.”
Fleetwood pushes the door open.
🎵 FX: TINKLING BELL.
Inside: chaos. Dolls with too many eyes. Marionettes with fanged smiles. A rocking horse that rocks itself. The air smells of sawdust and something faintly... embalmed.
BLINKSY (Steve Buschemi) emerges from behind a curtain—powder-streaked cheeks, mismatched socks, and a grin that’s one part welcome, two parts warning.
BLINKSY: “Ah! Brave adventurers! Come to buy joy? Or to borrow it?”
IREENA: “We’re here for Madame Eva’s order. For Arabelle.”
Blinksy’s grin falters. Just slightly. He bows with a flourish that nearly knocks over a shelf of porcelain heads.
BLINKSY: “Ah... yes. The little one with the big fate.” (beat) “Madame Eva always knows what to ask for. Even when it makes no sense to anyone else.”
He turns, humming a tune that sounds like a funeral march played on a broken calliope.
BLINKSY: “Wait here. I must fetch it from the shelf we do not dust.”
The party watches him disappear behind a curtain of bells. One doll on the counter turns its head. Slowly.
GREEGAN: “What’s he mean by fate? We’re buying a toy for a kid, right?”
FADE OUT.
IINT. BLINKSY’S TOY SHOP — VALLAKI — NIGHTFALL
The toy shop breathes around them—too warm, too cluttered. Like a carnival tent sealed too long. Even the light refuses to settle. Shadows stretch across shelves sagging under the weight of curiosities no child has ever loved.
The PARTY stands in uneasy silence. A mechanical monkey clinks its cymbals once, then stops. Somewhere, a music box clicks without rhythm.
BLINSKY returns, arms cradling a doll like he’s just birthed it from madness.
It’s... adorable. Horribly so.
A squat little scarecrow in a tattered noblewoman’s gown. One button eye, one opalescent bead. Bright red yarn hair in messy curls. A soft-stitched name on the hem:
“ARABELLE”
BLINSKY: “For the darling nameday child! A princess of Vistani and spooks alike! She rattles! She hums! She sings three notes of a lullaby only heard in fog!” (beat) “She also hiccups sometimes. Totally at random. That part was... an accident.”
The party reacts:
CLARION tries to smile. Fails halfway.
FLEETWOOD stares like he’s reading it for traps.
IREENA chuckles, nervous. IREENA It’s... brave.
But three of them don’t respond.
GREEGAN freezes, just beyond the counter.
SILVERLEAF twitches, turning sharply.
FELONIOUS tilts his head, eyes narrowing.
Their gazes shift... past the counter. To the wall.
Background music shifts: Ireena Kolyana (Theme) | Unofficial Curse of Strahd Soundtrack | 1h Theme | Loop
ANGLE ON a shelf. No—an entire stretch of shelving. Poorly lit. Dust-laced.
DOLLS.
Five. Maybe six.
Each unmistakably sculpted in the likeness of IREENA.
One with braids.
One with a crown of red felt.
One unfinished—no face, just hair.
One with stitched tears.
One burned at the hem.
One... headless.
🎥 CAMERA pans slowly to Ireena’s profile as she shifts, oblivious. Then behind her—those dolls. Silent. Watching their mirror.
FELONIOUS :(low, sharp) “Ireena... Do not turn around too fast.”
IREENA turns. She sees.
The music box in the corner stops clicking.
BLINSKY: “Oh those! Yes yes! Commissions! Special order! From a most loyal customer.” (beat) “He is... specific. Has many notes.”
SILVERLEAF: “That brute who was walking with the Baron… I think they called his name Izek. He had these.”
IREENA stares at the dolls. Her hand trembles as she reaches toward the one with stitched tears. The sharp scent of lacquer and glue thickens as BLINSKY vanishes behind the counter, whistling something unsettling. It’s not a tune—it’s a warning in melody.
Somewhere in the clutter, a JACK-IN-THE-BOX giggles to itself. It doesn’t reset.
ANGLE ON GREEGAN — arms crossed, watching IREENA as she stares down the wall of dolls.
GREEGAN: “You ever been to Vallaki before?” (beat) “Ever met that charming beast Izek?”
IREENA doesn’t answer. Her hand hovers near a doll with a miniature replica of her old hair ribbon—blue thread, fraying at the edge.
Finally, she speaks.
IREENA: “No. I’ve never been here. And I certainly don’t know him.” (beat) “But he knows me. That much is clear.”
SILVERLEAF steps beside Greegan, voice low.
SILVERLEAF: “Those dolls didn’t happen by guesswork. Izek’s been watching her. For a long time. “
FELONIOUS: (not looking up) “Or dreaming of her. Obsession is just memory... fermented.”
🎬 CUT TO: THE COUNTER
FLEETWOOD lays down a few silver pieces—tarnished, but clean. He meets BLINSKY’s eyes.
FLEETWOOD: “Wrap it tight. We’re traveling light, and I don’t want it waking up in my pack.”
BLINSKY grins, twirling twine between his fingers.
BLINSKY: “Ah, sir is wise! These dolls are very spirited! But worry not—she will be quiet... Unless Arabelle loves her too much. Then, perhaps, she sings.”
He winks. It’s not comforting.
FLEETWOOD takes the bundle, sliding it into his pack like handling a live frog in a paper crown.
FLEETWOOD: “That’s the weirdest coin I’ve ever spent.”
BLINSKY: “Oh, thank you! Tell the Vistani their gift is certified extra spooky!”
🎬 ANGLE ON: THE DOOR
The PARTY regathers. IREENA adjusts her cloak, eyes still shadowed.
IREENA: “If Izek asked the toymaker to carve those dolls... Then I think he believes he’s known me for a very long time.”
She looks up at her companions—not afraid. Just tired of being seen by men who never asked to know her.
IREENA (CONT'D): “Let’s go meet the Baron. Maybe someone will finally say what they want out loud.”
The JACK-IN-THE-BOX giggles again. The music box clicks once. Then stops.
FADE OUT.
End Credits play over: Blinsky's Toystore | Unofficial Curse of Strahd Soundtrack | 1h TTRPG Background Music | Loop