AUDIO: (Coming soon!)







Solaire of Astora:

I praise the son of a bitch who'd dare challenge me in all my gallantry, as for courageousness,

Yet in all other regards, I have naught but indictments for this griefing ghast; let me state the list:

You're a malicious MacGuffin clutched onto a furtive imp's duck-face. Alone, though, you're nothing:

An empty, expressionless shell, carrying nary enough weight to hold a floor-button!

A child who spoke solely in single-syllable shouts stopped you soundly! Don't even try to win against

This truly treasured tongue, opening up on you with the sickest licking ever seen outside a Mimic chest,

Amid a new-beginning quest, pledged not to be put on pause! Luckily, this should hardly last long:

You'll be shortly abyss-bound to where you belong, and your host back to tooting that sorry-ass song!

Zero chance on our duel's dawning remains for you once I go spitting its first verse;

This big bead-eyed bugger couldn't hope to so much as stunlock a sunbro while emitting his worst curse.

You're a glorified crown of a lost king surrounded by assets derived from vanilla selections,

And rushed to the public to push a peripheral best-known today for gorilla erections!

A warrior out to win gold, I'm a giant who breaks the Twinmold; better call me your daddy!

Your presence, they've said, is oppressive; depressing? I've met mushrooms making for gnarlier baddies!

You shan't out-rap me; why shouldn't I be feeling glad?

With sunshine coursing through my very blood, I've got this in the bag!

Majora's Mask:

Showing up solitary, Solaire? You of all folks should know that it's dangerous going alone;

Try taking this chance to turn back from a dark lord and head homeward, lest you be totally boned!

Of course, I'm no prissy type who'd avoid violence, come lost souls invading my neck of the woods,

And you're getting knocked off your high horse: insert Princess Bride quote here, and brace for a wreck; understood?

Your entire quest's success depends on the obsession another fool finds in some cancerous spider-witch;

Stepping against me? You shouldn't have done that; you stand not a white phantom's chance in Lost Izalith!

Going for gorilla references to keep the pace?

Let's say your whole franchise is getting blasted back to Demon days!

Watch my weapon, a swift-waxing crescent, eclipse incandescence with quickness: know there'll be calamity,

Your very essence, sent violently spiraling, bursting in wildfire; oh, the humanity!

This wannabe war-god's going the way of his patron fierce deity: stricken from history,

So if his covenant had any plans for their new age's dawn, they'd best nix those festivities!

Swapping that "un" out, I'll see your re-deadened husk scream bloody Hell 'til your eyeballs drop out,

And we'll call it a trade in exchange for the new lunar look as we start up what I'm all about!

Seventy-two hours? Come on; indeed, even fifty-four minutes is still in excess

When I'll bring your whole world crashing down in as many mere bars, putting all solar shilling to rest!

Solaire of Astora:

That's enough; cease discharging your load of lame lines: while I've kindled these rhythms, you're dropping dung pies,

So take after the Zora, and slow it down. Better yet: lay an egg! Any trash-talking's unwise;

Can't compare to the flow of Solaire of Astora! It's too convoluted for your comprehension:

No fairy-manchild could manage to map out the myriad maneuvers in store; not a question!

We know the kid behind the mask, but where's the man behind the mask: who even is Majora; what in Gwyn's name is your story?

There's more lore to learn on the lives of these faceless loot-corpses within my in-game inventory.

The far from fully canon trite tale of a dancing wooly dragon's needed for calling thine meager plot whole;

Five Phalanx-farming hours' worth say I'll outnumber its readers by scrawling "Try finger, but hole"!

Check my weapon-artistry: such splendid swordplay; your stiff wooden performances can't match those moves!

Watch me drop it in an empty nest, and see the birds come flocking; hear them croon joyously…

Trading Crow: Yeah yeah, so smooth.

Solaire: How about you take this gesture token, jollily cooperate,

Raise up those scarecrow arms in peace, and call it quits like Watergate?

I hope you brought your orange ring when we dance; my moves ablazing-set the floor!

Pull back from your advance; I hear the moonwalk is in your repertoire!

I've jotted zero notes, but still I've cracked the code for bombing you;

I'm out to get your Goht, and on a roll, at that! What are you gonna do,

When I'm simply too hard to take bullcrap from softies such as your lot?

Mine is a will of blackest iron that one-ups the buffest Goron,

Yet I never Woodfall for your Deku curse; you won't find no scrubs here.

No breadcrumbs, I tell it straight-up as you constantly trail me! What; was that unclear?

Majora's Mask:

Our sun-and-moon meeting's heralding no marriage, for I'm out to break every last piece of heart;

Dragon Kalameet? That garish getup you're sporting tells me you couldn't bring down the Black Beast of

Aaaaaaarrre you Skull Kidding me?! Just look at this massive turd:

I've yet to see a shittier lump deposited by a passing bird!

As your faith in the flame leads you like a moth to alleged destiny, you hold onto that hoping closely,

But I'd deem you hollow, knight: an accursed insect, no gold speck on you to make a token trophy.

Contrast my forms summoned to prizefighting stages, and watch me smash you unassisted,

Channeling such savagery that Oceiros would never imagine, and crushing this infant!

Mentioning goats? Guy, you're gonna get ganked, like two hellhounds approaching the moment you enter:

I'll sever your every link between worlds; cut off all the Y-posing proponents you mentor!

Of course, you should be used to bridges being burned by now, what with that dragon all up in your shrine,

And I latch onto schmucks, but your foolishness floors me, your trust in some maggot corrupting your mind!

I spit sharp-composed rhymes; your attempt to rap a storm up's falling flat

As a chest most revered when facades are dispelled! What; weren't you informed at all of that?

Forget your princess being in another game, much less merely another castle:

By now, my best guess for her whereabouts would amount to some eldritch blubber's asshole!

Solaire of Astora:

As I set out on my crusade, I unleash lightning lyrics, cast forth with the power to shock;

You're akin to a fragmented sprite next to one of the demons I'll plunge bravely downward to conquer!

Your lunar lunacy won't fly when we fight; see such suckers I've slain in the darkest of gardens,

And so heinous is the squalor of your verse-sin, that Oswald himself would be hard-pressed to pardon!

Your cruel tricks, meanwhile? Unforgivable!

Patches: Ha; well, he must be an absolute cretin!

Solaire: Indeed,

And he'll crumble like crystalline critters to whom the mere sound of my stamping boot's reason to flee!

Voicing now my oath to order that you take one hundred giant strides outbound in any of four cardinal directions,

I'll stand unfazed by what you throw my way; straight-faced for your whole projectile arsenal's deflection!

Majora's Mask:

As chronologies converge, we're in the fallen hero timeline; all of zero lifelines yet protect your wretched ass!

Your resources run drier than Ikana's waters; it's quite a Darksign: you can't get ye Estus flask!

You tap into that talisman when spots get tougher,

But surviving here'll take a miracle ol' Ra himself could never muster!

Survey's saying your transcribed words are unfit for toilet paper;

You'll not get a starker wake-up call in the form of twin gargoylish raiders!

You claim you're some undying legend; my daddy? You'll be mummified by the time they call this gig a wrap,

For you've walked, just as planned, right into the dark moon's line of sight; Anor Londo's known no bigger trap!

Solaire of Astora:

No path toward a Master Sword? No problem: my mere fists should be sufficient

With what knowledge of your weaknesses assists me in my mission;

How'd I learn as much? Hey, I'm no TatlTael who'd go on snitching;

Attribute it to a little bluebird: she insisted that I listen.

This lone wolf has got the guts to take you truly singlehandedly;

I make short work of masked pinheads in whole fusion-freakshow families!

My cuts are like Blighttown: go deeper than deep; watch your tail while I'm coming out swinging!

Commence a new-battle-plus cycle, so I can continue to rail on you from the beginning!

Why should I buy it that the sky is falling from this little chicken

When his so-called horror's most haunting Alex Hallmark was fan fiction?

Dishing disses even Frampt would find it difficult to swallow,

I'm the toughest act in all of time you've ever had to follow!

Majora's Mask:

A stone tower needn't set the stage for topsy-turvy-turning your perspective

When it's upside-down as is: eternal burning's your objective,

And as for a terrible fate, that's one challenging standard to meet with;

I'd be hard-pressed just to press hard enough were your fat executioner's hammer my beatstick!

Start up a cycle, though, and you're in for torment beyond all compare:

Awaking to surefire doom on repeat endlessly, without Sonny and Cher!

Your proud confidence once my plot consummates? Shorter-lived still than your loser death-god;

Piss off this supposed "little chicken", and you face a single-man Cucco revenge squad!

To believe you'll avoid getting snatched up tonight, you must be drinking something far stronger than milk:

Little Romani came back a shell; you'll be left empty-headed as any cartoon of your ilk!

No rewinding is gonna impede this here slaughter: the sole song inverting's from Creedence Clearwater;

The bitch-slapping hand of fate, reaching through space and time, shatters you like the Abyss's dear daughters!

The Ringed City's princess's slumber's disturbance's outcome's the end, where the blood has dried out,

But this egghead is gonna crack unceremoniously, carcass toppling sunny side down!

The apocalypse I've sought's upon us at last; skip the dungeon flashbacks, for there's nowhere to hide

From the sight of the murder-faced moon! Hear the moaning of bells; the bells tolling for all, far and wide!










The Moon:

Sicker than your average impact event:

Terminate Terminans to smithereens; sink kid Links!

The clock tower strikes its final hour,

Thanks to double-M hooligans like Skull Kid!

Your tiny strength ain't enough, clown, to keep me from a touchdown;

Quadruple resistance? Still a brutal hit, bitch!

Natural satellite, crashing this whole battle right!

Black hole sights remind of me; Méliés ain't blinding me:

Time to be violently dying to the giant-leaped titan, peeps!

Why? You see, murdering the Earth is my purpose;

I'll wipe your worthless bloodstain from its surface!

Your Titanite shite is light! I'm tight tonight;

Vaginal-type draconids lack quite the bite.

Harder-gnashing teeth than Havel, your survival's off the table: my arrival's fatal!

Power your chaos-spark witch wouldn't dare harness:

Neil himself could never strong-arm this; I'm true darkness!

The end's here: brace for nuclear winter; what's that make this Sunny Dicker?

The dumbest lord on the cinder!

Solaire of Astora:

I can see that you're no Biggie, and the same goes for defeating you;

No chance of usurpation, I'm prepared for what I need to do.

This jumbo Madball puppet's landing right smack in the garbage;

I'm a supergiant, primed to vanquish you: Canis Solaris!

My dodging prowess is impeccable; one Mr. Piccolo never need lend me his lessons,

But now, like his essence was in my blood, borne, I'll be blowing away the nightmarish moon's presence!

The moment of truth has arrived; time to be a good lord! On what's happening, I'll not be a liar:

The Boreal Valley's not localized within this kiln as I set it alight; I'm on fire!






Ganon: YOU DIED!