[BOUNTY] Power Peasant, HERO OF THE PEOPLE!

Peasant by day. Masked mistress of justice also by day. She is… POWER PEASANT.

Clarice Kent didn’t have much. She didn’t have a horse to pull her grain cart. She didn’t have a boyfriend. She didn’t even have money for her afternoon snack. Her hunger for pie, however, was matched only by her thirst for justice.

So when she saw three of the Queen’s men unlawfully detaining a poor, innocent traveler, she simply had to step in and put a stop to the madness. The only way to do that was to get naked.

Clarice dropped everything she was carrying and disappeared into a conveniently placed toolshed. Why there were toolsheds right next to the city gates, she didn’t know. An instant later, she had shucked her ragged peasant dress, donned her heroic leotard and mask, and was ready to do battle with the forces of bureaucracy. She burst from the toolshed, illuminated by an equally convenient spotlight of sun.

“Stop, you jack-booted thugs! In the name of truth, justice, and oppressed peasantry everywhere! Power Peasant is here!”

The three extremely bored guards turned to face the new arrival. She was eye-grabbing in every sense of the word. Clad only in a white mask, white leotard, white cape and red boots, this girl was clearly far too comfortable running around in her skivvies.

Her skintight nylon mask, which covered her whole head except for her eyes, was emblazoned with a giant red “P” on the face. Her leotard had a giant rectangular cut-out on its chest, which showed off Power Peasant’s bursting white cleavage of justice.

The head guard was stunned for only a moment. “No, you stop!” she shouted back. “In the name of law, order and rightful escalation of force, I’m bringing you in for… whatever it is you think you’re doing!” She drew her baton and advanced.

Power Peasant threw back her head and laughed. “Battle it is! Have at you, imperialist thug!”

The uniformed guards abandoned their former target (a peasant who had been suspected of carrying illicit cheese) and surrounded our valiant heroine. One at a time, they struck at her naked arms, legs, and any exposed skin in general that wasn’t her cleavage window. That would have just been rude.

“Silly minions of the Queen! Don’t you know your weapons cannot hurt me?” With that, Power Peasant seized ahold of one of the guards’ batons and gripped it. She squeezed- and the wooden stick shattered into a thousand pieces.

The guards gaped.

“Run!”

“She’s too powerful!”

“I’m not paid enough for this!”

Power Peasant laughed again. “Another day, another victory for justice!”

In their haste to leave, one of the guards slammed into a particularly irate half-orc…

"Watch it," Kalka grumbled, shoving the guard off to the side. She'd heard about the bounty placed on a certain caped crusader, and just happened to be on her way to consult (or shake down, if need be) the guards for information on where to find her, when she heard the sounds of a short scuffle and an impromptu sermon on 'justice' coming from the gates nearby. What she found was more or less what she'd expected from the bounty- ridiculous costume, dramatic boasting, and incompetent guards running at full tilt. The shattered baton was a bit of a surprise, but Kalka was fine with a strong opponent. She could take whatever the 'Power Peasant' could throw at her, and dish it back out, too.

"Now I'm no fan of the guard either," Kalka started, addressing the woman, "but you're a bit over the top with all this, don't you think?" Indeed, the two women certainly made for an odd set of opposites. On one side, an energetic masked crusader with a white outfit and lots of skin showing, and on the other, a burly, scowling orcish woman, covered in ramshackle armor of dark leather and unpolished steel, the only skin shown being that of the green skin of her face and her uncovered hands.

"If you did things quietly, maybe the guard would be all you'd have to deal with. But now you've made gone and made people mad, and snagged yourself a bounty. So let's do this the easy way, yeah?" Kalka paused, giving the girl another once over... before slowly advancing on the vigilante.

So, the Queen had decided to send in her slightly bigger, slightly more jack-booted, muchly greener thugs against her. Our heroine eyed Kalka up and down in return. To a regular peasant, Kalka might have been a tough match. Scary, even. But our hero was no ordinary peasant- she was Power Peasant, savior of the subjugated, protector of the persecuted, bane of bureaucracy, avenger of the abused!

“Check out at that chick in the mask! Damn! Those are some fine-ass tits!” called out one dirt-caked man in the assembling crowd.

Of course, to some, she was simply another pretty face. Or, since she covered her face so thoroughly, simply another ravishingly raunchy rack. That wasn’t to say the rest of her was lacking, though! Why, her bare legs were long and laviscious! Her tummy as toned and tough as a trebuchet! Her leotard-lined tush as bubbly as a bubble, cunningly concealed by a cape!

Power Peasant may not have been as tall or as brawny as Kalka, but the powers she had mysteriously been born with had given her the strength of twenty burly, brawny lumberjacks. Kalka stood no chance against the iron will of JUSTICE. Power Peasant had no way of knowing Kalka’s name, of course- but such things didn’t matter, as the narrator was using third-person omniscient.

“You stand in the way of justice? Then your heart must be as black as your skin is green!”

Power Peasant struck an iconic pose with her fists up, knees bent. The stage was set. The chips were down. This was for all the marbles. It was all on the line. Time to do or die. Power Peasant was READY.

“Have at you, fiend!” Power Peasant delivered a stupendous spin-kick to Kalka’s stomach, heedless of any kind of armor or steel. She was stronger than steel! She was POWER PEASANT!

__________________________

((Yes, her kicks hurt.))

Oof.

Kalka staggered back at the force of the woman's kick. "Okay," she spat through grit teeth, "be like that."

Little stronger than I thought, she thought, but still not more than I can take.

She uncurled herself, standing back to her full height as Power Peasant continued her assault, long legs snapping forward like steel whips, with a few quick jabs thrown in when the orc looked like she was looking to get a hit in. In a more defensive pose Kalka was able to block most of the blows, and shrug off the ones that got through. Behind the bouncy bombshell battling her, she noticed a crowd growing. She'd no doubt lose some of the bounty money if people got hurt, but she tucked it into the back of her mind for now; something told her she could use the gathering civilians against Power Peasant...

For the time being, however, she waited for the vigilante to make another sweeping kick with her legs- and aimed to catch it this time in her strong, outstretched hands!

((I'm good to roll if you prefer that system. If not, the freeform writing works fine by me.))

Kick! Punch! Kick! Sweep! Pirouette! And… repeat!

Power Peasant presented a puissant plague of punches, savage storm of swinging strikes, and almighty avalanche of assaults. She struck at Kalka so fiercely, so furiously, so forcibly, that the thesaurus itself winced in pain.

“Strength of steel and speed of light! Power Peasant wins every fight!”

With her rallying cry, Power Peasant swept another kick at the not-so-fearsome not-quite-half-orc-yet-not-quite-full-orc-either… Only to have her foot caught in midair. Power Peasant was stuck holding her leg out in a silly position. The band of the leotard’s crotch clung tight to her, showing off an appropriately mighty amount of bare skin between her thighs. As Kalka held tight to Power Peasant’s leg, the leotard clung tighter, creeping deeper into Power Peasant’s barely-covered loins.

Caught with her pants down (so to speak), Power Peasant was left speechless for the splittest of seconds. She soon recovered, as heroes tend to do. With a shout fueled by equal parts embarrassment and effort, Power Peasant wrenched her leg straight upwards.

In defiance of all the laws of physics and everything a seemingly average (if exceptionally beautiful!) peasant girl could do, Kalka flew upwards with it. Kalka clung to Power Peasant’s leg and was rewarded with an all-expenses paid trip to the ground on the opposite side of the superhero. She slammed into the dirt, dazed and confused at what had just happened. Had she really just been flipped?

“Foul!” cried Power Peasant. “Fiendish orc! Making a fight look bad is against everything a hero stands for!” Power Peasant seized Kalka by the back of her patchwork armor and raised the orc over her head like a champion wrestler. “Time to bring you ‘back’ to basics!”

Power Peasant brought Kalka crashing down onto her knee- a perfect rendition of a backbreaker. Kalka’s armor protected her, but only slightly- the metal in the back cracked into a thousand useless pieces, the leather barely holding together. She hit the ground and groaned in pain.

“See! You cannot hope to hurt me! I am invincible!” crowed Power Peasant. “Stupid Orc! Winning fights is for heroes!”

___________________________________________________________

((I'd prefer to go freeform. That said, I'll let you know that Power Peasant, like all good heroes, has one or two weaknesses. I'm sure you can piece it together given a few more posts, or just using your genre-savvy anti-hero skills.))

Kalka didn't have time to assess the damage to her armor, though she could figure it wasn't good. She'd been in plenty of fights in her time, and as many as she had won, she'd also been knocked to the floor more than a few times as well. Nothing like this though- you could tell what people could do at first glance easy enough in a barfight, but she never would have expected the woman in front of her to be picking her up and tossing her around like a ragdoll.

"Geez, how..." Kalka grunted, trying to push herself to her feet, "what're you made of?!" Kalka rolled away from Power Peasant, popping up into a crouch. The heroine in front of her wasn't just some commoner in a costume flailing her arms around; even discounting the super strength, it took at least a little bit of finesse to move like she was. Her spine was still aching from trying to do things head on- Kalka figured she'd try to fake her out.

"Whatever you're made of, I bet I can break through it!" Kalka rushed forward, arms held up like a boxer, aiming a few feints towards the woman... before rushing for her midsection in a shoulder charge, hoping to force the woman onto her back on ground. One of Kalka's arms reached behind the woman to grab the back of her leotard, while the other came back to grab her ankle as she jammed her shoulder into Power Peasant's stomach. It was like hitting a brick wall, but Kalka was betting she could be the perfect wrecking ball and knock her over!

Kalka charged. Power Peasant sighed. “When will they learn?” she asked no one in particular.

She met Kalka’s charge with a braced foot. Kalka was huge- but Power Peasant was made of tougher stuff than Orcs. Green skin slammed into the white bulwark with a heavy thud. Impossibly, Power Peasant withstood the attack. Her superhero-sticthed boots slid in the mud, but barely moved more than a few inches. Even Kalka’s grip on her ankle didn’t disturb her rock-solid stance.

“You should probably stop hitting me, fiend. It’s for your own good! POWER PEASANT doesn’t bow to such-“

Her voice cut off as she felt a strong hand sliding around underneath her cape. Kalka had seized ahold of her leotard! Her hands were big enough to reach almost over Power Peasant’s back, brushing over a metallic line in the fabric.

Power Peasant’s breath ran cold. Would this green goblin really go so far as to… no! Of course not. Only truly vile villains would do something like that.

“Back, fiend!” she shouted. It was time for a counter-attack. With a mighty grip exceeding even Kalka’s, she grabbed ahold of the orc’s tattered armor, meaning to toss her away as far as possible.

Of course, ragged armor makes for a bad grip. Kalka found herself once again launched upwards, separated from her patchwork chest plate. She hadn’t been launched into lower earth orbit, but her armor was straight outta here.

“Uh. It’s only evil when the bad guys do it,” Power Peasant muttered.

Okay, the wrecking ball plan obviously wasn't working. Kalka wasn't used to the wrecking ball plan not working. And sticking to her usual routine was costing her armor; she was wearing a bra underneath, but her tank-top like tunic was small enough that her toned stomach, arms, and shoulders were now all on display. Not to mention that even orcs turned black and blue after a while, especially with the way things had been going.

Kalka slowly backed off from the woman, getting up off her back. She felt something along the caped crusader's back- but that cape was getting in the way and she couldn't just turn her around and check it out like she usually could. Which lead to Kalka's current line of thinking. Power Peasant obviously cared what the common people thought of her, or cared about them, and wasn't about to let one get hurt or hurt one herself. Kalka had fewer qualms about such things.

As she backed up closer and closer to the edge of the crowd, she suddenly reached back and grabbed two of the gathered spectators. She grabbed a young woman by her arm, and another merchant by the back of his shirt. "Sorry about this folks, take it up with her." And uncerimoniously, she hefted first the man and then the woman up and into the air at the woman. The woman flew legs first straight at Power Peasant with her skirt billowing open and giving those in her path an interesting view, while the man flew a bit higher, bits and baubles and... what looked like some sort of cheese? feel from his pockets as he went in an arc over head.

As the less-brave members of the crowd dispersed behind her, Kalka watched eagerly for her opponents next move. If she didn't catch the commoners, they'd be alright, give or take a few bruises. But she did, maybe Kalka could keep her hands occupied long enough to get a better shot in at the woman. Especially if she turned to catch the merchant- maybe she could grab the cape, or even get a glimpse of whatever she'd felt on her back...

Power Peasant always loved a crowd. It let her feel like the hero she’d always meant to be. Unfortunately, today was the day the crowd turned against her. Literally.

Kalka, finding herself with a dearth of decisions, reached into her devious duffel of devilries and found the most wonderful weapon to use against our heroine: the crowd itself.

Sasha, daughter of a most strict and traditional father, found herself flung into the air. She shrieked as her skirts flew up and fluttered around her fabulous hips, giving the crowd a perfect view of her wickedly scandalous unmentionables. She wore a lacy white garter belt, tight white stockings… and that was it! She hadn’t been able to afford the matching panties, so she’d relied on her great mass of skirts to keep her decent. It wasn’t as if some crazed three-fourths orc was going to come along and flip up her skirts, now, was it?

Trayman Cogsbottom, Maker of Cheese and all things Curdled, found himself flung forwards as well. He yelped in a most undignified fashion. He hated to be flung. It reminded him of his days spent in hog-wrestling competitions when he was desperate for money. Those were dark days. Dark, smelly days.

“Ahh! Not the peasantry!” Power Peasant said, shocked beyond words. Well, words that didn’t involve screaming about peasants. She leapt into action, moving at the speed of a freshly-fired arrow. She caught both peasants in her iron grip… Though unfortunately, she had caught Sasha upside-down. The poor girl’s skirts fell around her head, exposing her scandalously naked bottom to the entire crowd. Well, naked but for some surprisingly salacious straps of silk and lace.

“Put me down! Put me down!” Sahsa shouted. Her hands shot out from beneath her upturned skirts and snatched ahold of Power Peasant’s cape. With a strenuous stretching of stitching, Sasha tugged desperately to right herself.

Power Peasant’s cape slid to the side, revealing her back to Kalka. Along her leotard’s back was a shiny silver zipper, starting at the back of her neck. It ran all the way down to the beginning curves of her wonderfully eye-catching backside.

“All right! I’m putting you down!” Power Peasant gently leaned forward to release her disoriented, embarrassed passengers.

With the do-gooder distracted, and her cape drawn from it's proper position, Kalka got a good view of her opponent's back, and saw the metallic strip she had lost her upper armor getting a handle on. Well, now that Power Peasant had her hands full with Sasha's eyeful, maybe Kalka had a chance to give herself a leg up. It wasn't her usual approach, but so far going in fists swinging hadn't been paying off, and she was ready to try anything.

Kalka stormed up behind Power Peasant, ignoring the outrage of the crowd around her, and reached out to grab at the zipper. She fumbled a little for the tiny metal strip, large fingers not ideally suited for delicate work, but when she got it, she started pulling with all her might, dragging it as far down as she could! It was a little stubborn, but so was she; Kalka just hoped Power Peasant was still busy with her impromptu projectiles to stop the orc!

Sasha’s shouting and shrieking sucked in stares from all over the square. For every marketgoer that smartly ran from Kalka’s crowd-catapult, two more took their place. Soon the crowd had doubled in size, locking the two participants in.

Half the crowd recognized the shining white figure of Power Peasant. Not everyone agreed with her methods- she had, after all, drawn the attention of the Queen, and that meant unpleasantness all around- but others enjoyed her audacious authority-antagonizing antics. Her costume’s cascading cleavage didn’t hurt, either.

So when Kalka snuck up behind Power Peasant and reached for the vulnerable zipper on the back of her costume, the entire crowd started hollering. Half hollered for the heroine to notice the half-orc’s sudden sneakiness; half hollered in hope that they’d get to see some more skin.

Both got their wishes granted when Kalka ferociously unzipped our heroine’s zipper. Poor Power Peasant went rigid as a rush of cold air hit her naked back. She wasn’t wearing a stitch underneath her costume- no one had ever managed to lay a hand on her, much less find a weak point!

Not only that, but Kalka’s timing was impeccable. She struck just as Power Peasant was leaning over to set Sasha and Mr. Cogsbottom down. As her leotard went slack around her back, her costume’s heroic cleavage window drooped outwards as well. The gawkers closest to the action got to see Power Peasant’s breasts flop down as their support disappeared. Now she didn’t have a cleavage window- she just had a giant hole in a loosely hanging piece of spandex that threatened to spill her jiggling breasts out!

“FOUL!” cried Power Peasant, clutching her arms to her chest. She kicked Kalka in the shins, releasing the half-to-three-quarters-orc’s grip on her zipper. “Fiend! I’ll show you no mercy! Just… as soon as I fix this!”

Beneath her mask, Power Peasant flushed as the crowd- so normally filled with cheers and applause- turned to wolf-whistles and catcalls. She had to take her hands away from her chest to get at her zipper, and putting her hands behind her back just made her jut her breasts out even further, causing two tiny bits of pink skin to peek out. Only the closest to her could see it, but that hardly mattered. Heroines never let their costumes fail them; she couldn’t let this happen!

Power Peasant struggled to get the zipper working, but Kalka had mangled it with her big, fat hands. She’d need to take her costume off to fix the zipper- and that wouldn’t work at all. Fine, then. She’d just have to finish this quickly, then get away and make herself properly heroic again.

“Time to put you in your place, you green-eyed monster! Prepare to face my ultimate attack!” Power Peasant took a fighting stance. Or at least, a sort-of-stance that allowed her to put a hand to her uncomfortably bouncing breasts. With a battle cry, she sprang forward with the force and speed of a dozen wild horses.

Kalka was ready for anything. She could brawl with the best of them. Unfortunately, “anything” didn’t include Power Peasant’s special surprise.

”SUNFLOWER SUNRISE!”

Power Peasant flashed under Kalka’s guard, catching her in on the chin with a lighthing-fast uppercut.

”POTATO PULVERIZATION!”

She followed up with a flurry of strikes to her gut, each one carrying the pummeling power of pure potatoes.

“And finally… STRING BEAN SHREDDER!”

The last one technically wasn’t one of Power Peasant’s normal moves. Shredding an opponent’s armor wasn’t something heroes did.

Power Peasant wasn’t feeling particularly heroic at the moment, though.

She got a sore shin for her troubles, but Kalka grinned at the state she had put Power Peasant into. She got a full view of the heroine's back, and though she couldn't see her front, Kalka could tell Power Peasant was having some trouble in front off the hollering crowd.

"That's what you get for cutting a big hole in your top!" she shouted, before her words were swallowed by another self-righteous spiel about 'ruing the day' or something similar. Kalka snickered a bit, watching PP struggle with the zipper she'd mangled, but dropped into a defensive stance as the woman turned on her, giving up trying to fix her costume.

"Heh, alright. Maybe now we'll have a little more even--"

The woman in front of her all but disappeared, a few feet away one second and then punching her square in the jaw the next. Before she had time to react, Power Peasant was laying into her midsection, delivering blow after blow to her gut. Apparently, in all her worrying about the woman's strength, Kalka failed to consider her speed as well. As the orc doubled over in pain, she saw Power Peasant step back, one arm back over her chest while the other was help high in the air behind her. Her eyes burned behind her mask, and suddenly the goofy if effective hero didn't seem quite as goofy.

"STRING BEAN SHREDDER!"

Well, maybe still pretty goofy.

Still, Kalka wasn't laughing as Power Peasant swept her arm up with her fingers positioned in a claw. She couldn't tell if it was one massive swing of her arm, or tons and tons of quick tears too fast for her to see, but Kalka beyond her bruises Kalka felt a massive rush of air, the sensation of leather and cloth peeling off of her skin. The softer parts of her outfit seemed to shred as they hung in the air, with the remaining metal of her cuisse being tossed to the side dented and crumbled.

The end result left Kalka standing there nearly naked. The remains of her pants held to her hips, legs long gone and large holes around her hips showing off the thick green meat of her lower half, a tear in the back showing off the unsubstantial underwear that left a good amount of cheek below and crack above. Meanwhile, uptop, her unarmored shirt was torn away completely, and her bra only barely just survived. As it was, one strap had been cut clealy apart, leaving the right cup to flop down as expose Kalka's heavy breast to the audience.

"Oh shit," was all Kalka could really manage, looking down at herself, then up to the ecstatic crowd. She growled,barely having to imagine the smirk behind Power Peasant's mask, and charged her again!

...Sidestepping at the last second! Ignoring the unrestrained jiggling all over her body, she whipped Power Peasant's cape into her face as she turned to block the orc. With her face covered, Kalka planned to reach forward and stretch open the hole that Power Peasant's costume provided inherently. She was only blocking the hero's view of her near-naked body, but maybe she could give the crowd something else to look at....

Power Peasant took a moment to admire her work on Kalka’s outfit. Never let it be said that she left the adoring masses wanting.

“Justice is served, fiend!” she struck half of a heroic pose, one hand still clutched to her loose leotard. “Even in the face of hardship, Power Peasant always trium-“

When she’d first designed her costume, Power Peasant had made sure to include a flowing white cape. Capes were majestic. Heroic. Brooding, yet invigorating. Mysterious, yet instantly recognizable. Capes were the hallmark of a hero’s image.

Unfortunately, they were utterly, stupidly impractical in a fight.

Kalka seized ahold of Power Peasant’s cape. A tidal wave of white swept over the heroine’s vision. She tried to get it off her, but it was just done too tight. In a moment of dread recognition, she realized that the one advantage Kalka had was that she knew how to use an opponent’s clothes against them.

A second later and Kalka had moved her grip to Power Peasant’s cleavage window. Her mighty strength was mighty indeed- but Power Peasant had used only the strongest and most durable of fabrics in constructing her super suit. It couldn’t be broken so easily!

“Ha! You are thwarted, fiend!” she gloated, her voice muffled from behind her cape and mask. “Give up while you still wear some shred of dignity!”

For the first time in a long time, an idea decided to pop up in Kalka’s head. “Wear… Ha!”

So the Orc stopped trying to destroy her opponent’s costume. Instead, she just decided to take it right off her.

Power Peasant’s hands were busy freeing her head from her cape, leaving Kalka a clear shot to yank the leotard down her body. Her arms whipped to her sides as the white super-lycra whipped down. Power Peasant’s monumental breasts erupted out of her leotard in a slingshot of salaciousness. Her bosom was every bit as heroic as she was: large, firm and topped with eager cherry-red nipples, surrounded by huge circles of pink skin.

“FOUL!” cried Power Peasant, but the crowd didn’t seem to think so. They cheered not for her, but for her sudden exposure. The critical difference was that they weren’t interested in justice. Now, Power Peasant was surrounded by a lecherous crowd that only wanted to see her stripped.

That just wasn’t very nice.

“S-stop it!” she said, voice cracking. Kalka couldn’t hope to pull Power Peasant’s leotard off her arms; she was far too strong for that. What she could- and did- do, however, was engage in a vicious tug-of-war for the heroine’s decency. Kalka pulling down, Power Peasant struggling to pull up.

While super-lycra was super-strong, it couldn’t handle Power Peasant’s super-strength. With a super-rip, her leotard tore right down the middle, leaving Power peasant standing in the marketplace in nothing but boots, mask and cape.

“AAAH!” she shrieked, wrapping her cape around her body. She wasn’t quick enough to cover a single strip of blond hair between her legs, though. She flushed beneath her mask. She had to keep herself groomed- it just wouldn’t be very heroic to have hair poking out from the crotch of her costume. How dare Kalka expose her like this? Now everyone who’d seen it knew she was a blonde. Her secret identity was in danger!

“T-that’s enough punishment for you, villain!” Power Peasant said. “I’ll let you go for now! Just you wait, I’ll be back for you! Just you wait!”

She turned to leap away, but the crowd was too close. She couldn’t get a running start. She’d have to leap from a dead stop- and that left her vulnerable.

___________________________________

((FINAL MOVE: KALKA. I've sent you a PM, Teraton. Let me know how you want to end it.))

Power Peasant crouched, covered by her cape, ready to jump high up and escape the crawling mob of creepers closing in around her. Taut muscles flexed and rippled, only visible to those who could get a peak in under the (seemingly perpetually) fluttering hem. With a mighty shout, she pushed with all her might against the ground, shooting up like a rocket!

"Up, up, and aw-- erk!" Power Peasant suddenly felt herself subject to intense whiplash as her super-durable cape caught on something on the ground; specifically, they were caught under the heavy boot of an orc, determined not to let her meal ticket make her escape. The heroine's super strong neck was far more durable than the fabric, and definitely strong enough to avoid any serious damage, but unfortunately for her, Power Peasant's body kept going where her head had stopped. The end result; her body flipped over her head, the crowd in front of her getting a full view of her breasts, ducked as her legs flipped up even while admiring the view between them, and finally got an eyeful of her toned backside as she jarred to a halt in the air, falling splayed on her back to the earth.

"Alright," Kalka said, doing her best to ignore the pointed staring at her one exposed nipple, "no running away for you." She grabbed the cape, bundling it up in one hand, and started to move quickly while her target was still dazed. She flipped Power Peasant onto her back, wrapping the long cape first around her arms, and then around her legs, hogtying the woman with a material that hopefully hold up better than any sort of rope.

"What are you..." Power Peasant muttered, swiftly coming to, only to find herself struggling against her own cape! "H-halt, fiend! You can't-- I demand you stop right now!" Truth be told, Kalka had stopped at this point, content to let the vigilante struggle a bit. Her breasts ground against the ramshackle road beneath, and as she flexed her arms and legs, she was only giving the audience a clearer view of her lower half. Not to mention she was tugging more and more at her already sore neck. "Please?"

"Yeah, no. Sorry." Kalka said. Power Peasant struggled even more as she found herself being lifted into the air, held out in front of Kalka like a fleshy shield. Kalka grinned; feeling a little vindictive, she circled slowly, letting everyone get a good look. "If it's any consolation, I think they still like you as a hero. But skin is skin, and people here go crazy for it." She threaded one arm through the hoop formed by Power Peasant's limbs, freeing the other to cover her exposed breast. "Better get used to it."

The rest of the encounter went pretty quickly. Power Peasant found herself hefted like a piece of luggage over Kalka's arm all the way to the nearest guard post, a good number from the crowd following the unclothed crusader and the orc in shredded rags. The guards had a good amount of fun laughing over their persistent problem finally getting solved, though Kalka made sure to get her bounty before handing her over. Power Peasant chalked it up to simple wearing down of the fabric, but looking back the knot of her cape was looser when she changed hands...

Power Peasant would later break free- the guards had been instructed to wait for their captain to show up before unmasking the woman, and by the time the Captain got there, there was little left of the cell wall than some rubble on the floor. Those lucky enough to be looking up to the rooftops saw a nearly bare blur, cape wrapped carfully around her frame, disappearing back to the country side. The outfit she'd discarded in the tool shed on the side of town was gone, leading the down-but-not-out, somewhat jaded but still optimistic vigilante on a superpowered streak back to her home village... but that was a tale for another time.

A three-fourths orc got her money and a new outfit for her troubles, and Power Peasant returned in a few days time to stalk the streets of the Capital, eyes always peeled, wary to see a certain shade of green again...

((Fun story, both of you!))

((Just getting around to reading this -- the writing styles here played off each other wonderfully...! Great story!))