Hands up (ready a firebolt)

The old man held up his hand, readied in a throwing position, and a bright flame began to flicker in the palm: ”I think it’s now your turn to put your hands up, miss,” the old man smiled, holding a firebolt at the ready.

Astrid looked up, her eyes going wide at the sight of the small ball of fire perched in the man’s hand without searing his flesh, and - knowing to be outmatched and now unarmed - quickly threw her hands up in the air. Her pants, halfway up her knees at this point, quickly slipped back down to pool at her ankles. It was a humiliating view; the auburn haired bandit, in complete control so very recently, was now standing on the roadside in just her shirt and panties, her trousers down her legs and her leather armor scattered on the grass around her, while her bra continued to slip downwards from beneath her shirt.