Back in the early days of her adventuring career, Amalthea wandered into the Bards College in Solitude. There, she made the mistake of speaking to the Headmaster, who immediately began droning on about his problems, as citizens of Skyrim are wont to do. And so, against her will, Amalthea learned about the Burning of King Olaf, a traditional festival performed by the Bards. The highlight of the festival is the burning of an effigy of long-dead High King Olaf One-Eye, who was a gigantic lying asshole – according to an old poem called King Olaf’s Verse. Apparently, what with the recent regicide and all, the Bards were being discouraged from holding the festival, and the Headmaster was very distressed. Amalthea smiled vaguely and nodded while he prattled on about needing to recover the lost tome so that Skyrim’s version of Burning Man could take place.
Eventually, she got around to actually looking for King Olaf’s Verse. A helpful ghost led the way through the charmingly named Dead Men’s Respite. He turned out to be Svaknir, the author of the damning poem. I have no trouble believing that an author’s ego would be powerful enough to allow him to evade true death until he could force his book upon someone.
He’s especially pissed about the overenthusiastic copy-editing.
Together, Amalthea and the Headmaster rewrote some history, and King Olaf’s Verse became the story of a dragon in human form who betrayed Solitude and who therefore totally deserves to be burned in effigy, every day, forever.
And so the Bards College was able to continue its storied, solemn tradition of burning a straw dummy at the stake.
Also, Amalthea got some money and loot, and that’s what’s really important.
pretty girls kill things 