On the planet Altaria a metal lies below the crust,

And with it crafted a sword of the mightiest thrust.

A sword that laughs at chain-mail, pays iron no regard.

Those that underestimate it, shall forevermore be scarred.

So if you face a foe one day, with Altarian metal in his grasp,

You’d do best to wave white flag dear friend, or this battle be your last.

Go forth and bow before the hand that wields this weapon high,

And see it fit that swordsman do, you mustn’t yet say goodbye.

Then go and get the one real rival, the rival to this blade,

The only way to win this duel, master the bow as your trade.

Then shoot from afar, keep your distance weary,

Aim for the head, you’ll do just fine, unless this soldier carries,

Upon his head, oh! You’ve no chance now,

This foe hath wear Altarian helmet over his fair brow.

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