"New friends? I think not-" In fairness, Bowser moves... significantly faster than he'd been expecting. Kuja dives out of the way- but only just. There's a cut on his leg, a reminder of the razor-sharp spikes adorning the koopa's shell. Hmm. "No, I think not. Quality over quantity, Your Majesty."
Frisk has the right of it, of course, and he takes to the skies in short order, droplets shimmering as they impact his Protect shield. He changes, then, exchanging the white sherwani he'd appeared in for something altogether more ostentatious, a flowing longcoat, black-blue as midnight, with a feathered ruff in black about the collar. There was a staff, too, one Frisk had got him so very long ago, a finely-crafted thing of ebony. True, it was probably telegraphing his change to [Black Mage] more than a little bit, but it's the thought that counts.
"Tell me, Bowser, do you know what happens to a tortoise when it's struck by lightning?" He [Focus]es, spreading his arms wide as he revels, for the moment, in the storm.
Yes. He is grandstanding. But what better venue to do it in?
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Frisk has the right of it, of course, and he takes to the skies in short order, droplets shimmering as they impact his Protect shield. He changes, then, exchanging the white sherwani he'd appeared in for something altogether more ostentatious, a flowing longcoat, black-blue as midnight, with a feathered ruff in black about the collar. There was a staff, too, one Frisk had got him so very long ago, a finely-crafted thing of ebony. True, it was probably telegraphing his change to [Black Mage] more than a little bit, but it's the thought that counts.
"Tell me, Bowser, do you know what happens to a tortoise when it's struck by lightning?" He [Focus]es, spreading his arms wide as he revels, for the moment, in the storm.
Yes. He is grandstanding. But what better venue to do it in?