Not all nuns are peaceful and passive

1536, Eastern Counties, England

A platoon of foot soldiers reach the top of a small wooded ridge overlooking a convent house. Leading from the rear is a large built man in his 40’s on horseback with self-appointed regal air. He glares down the slope at a group of black-robed nuns tilling the soil of a vegetable patch, his face crimson with rage. “Nuns!” he bellows at the regional commander who had accompanied them. “You failed to carry out my orders to evict and seize their land and wealth because of a few women?” he roared. “P ... p ... please your majesty. Let me explain” the man trembled before the short-tempered monarch. “Explain this” the sovereign cried and with unbridled rage unsheathed his sword and swung it around cutting the man’s head off in a single gory blow. “Anyone else wish to explain it to me?” the Tyrant roared holding the bloody blade high. None dare speak. “Then follow me. Anything of value is mine. You may plunder all that is left and f*ck the nuns if that is your want, then destroy the place”

Following the mounted Royal, the troops marched towards the building to find a group of nuns waiting for them. Each wore a traditional religious habit that included a loose black tunic draped to the ground over which a white wimple covered neck, shoulders and chest while a stiff white coif framed the face from which a long black veil draped down the back. A silver cross on a necklace was the only ornamentation visible. The Mother Superior stepped forwards to greet them with a stern look of disapproval. Short in stature, she was a plump woman of mature age, yet sturdy in girth. That reinforced his belief that the church was in possession of wealth that was rightfully his. Only the upper-class had the right to eat well! As befitting her status, she had a rounded homely chubby-cheeked face of plain countenance with metal rimmed spectacles adorning small brown eyes. He also noted that she possessed a large bust of breath-taking fullness, width and slopes that the flowing dress failed to hide. If he had time after looting this place he wouldn’t mind putting a bag over her head and f*ck her breasts before chopping her head off.

Mother Superior bowed her head with palms pressed together before her in welcome but her disrespectful withering glare was not. “Out of my way wench!” his majesty roared. “Will King Henry address a lady from horseback?” she spoke with calm authority while a cold sneer silently mocked him. Summoning his aides, they helped him dismount. “You can call me Mother” she informed him as he faced her glowering. “I certainly will not. You are not my mother!” he bellowed “You and your ladies have 5 minutes to vacate the premises. Take nothing of value. I will be checking” “By whose authority?” she challenged in a calm yet steely tone. “Mine God damn you!” he roared “You will obey me. I am God’s anointed representative on Earth”. “The arrogant claim of the power hungry rich. All people are equal in God’s eyes” she replied “You are just a power-mad Tyrant seeking to fill his coffers through the plunder of property belonging to people of faith because the Pope will not annul your marriage. Leave us be or suffer the consequences” “Seize them all” he yelled “Take them to the Tower to be publicly parted with their heads which will be hung on Traitor’s Gate as a warning to all who displease me”.

With a bloody-thirsty yell, his men began to advance on the line of sisters while the noble King stood back to enjoy the spectacle with the haughty Mother Superior by his side. Instead of fleeing like helpless women, the sister nuns stood their ground in strange wide-legged stances side-on to the oncoming men with their hands raised flat with stiff fingers held together resembling blades. With stern stony faces they looked aggressive as if ready to brawl with his men. Hah! The thought made him laugh. Maybe he’d find the prettiest one and wrestle her himself before taking her then executing her.

Nuns of all ages, but predominately mature, in long flowing robes and head veils formed a perfectly straight row with a military precision as though mocking his army. “HAI!” a loud massed shout startled him as their right arms rose swiftly in front of them as if blocking a punch that had never been thrown. What madness was this? Being faced by a line of aggressive nuns who didn’t run away screaming made his men uneasy. “Ignore their silly dance. If they want a dance let’s see how they dance in the bed chamber” he cried. “HA!” another unearthly shout and the nuns stepped forward as one stiffly throwing their left arms across their fronts as if shielding themselves while drawing back their right fists against their sides. It somehow seemed threatening and aggressive while each bore a hard steely face that further unsettled the men. “They’re just wenches” the King shouted “Grab them or face my wrath”. The front row moved to obey. “HAI!” the nuns stepped forwards to meet them, their right fists flying forwards in a blur. The loud disturbing sound of a row of fists connecting with the jaws of his men was followed by a mass cry of pain. The heads of his entire front row jerked skywards with agonised expressions of surprise. “HAI!” each women pulled one fist back while the other punched forwards in a sharp aggressive motion, their left fists blurred streaks followed by the humiliating loud crack of their fists in perfectly synchronised upper cuts against male jaws. To the King’s disbelief, the heads of the entire front row of men jerked back over their shoulders in a spray of blood and spittle then continued to fall to the ground like cut trees in the forest. Men of his prized army laid out at the feet of a rabble of pious holy women! It was embarrassing! Heads will roll after this, he swore.

“HA!” the holy women swiftly exchanged fists while stomping on the unconscious bodies, like an advancing black-robed wall, grinding groins underfoot. “HA!” stepping forwards, each punched the air with one fist as the other pulled back by their sides while glaring maliciously at the next line of men who shuffled nervously like amateurs. They weren’t like nuns at all, the Tyrant thought, they were like a female army! “HAI!” skirts unfurled like a fan scandalously revealing lower legs sheathed in thick black stockings as a row of unshod feet rose steeply towards the sky. Impossible! no-one could kick that high! Bare feet pound male faces shockingly loud sending them senseless to the ground trailing a blood-red spray of defeat. They use their legs as weapons! the King thought in astonishment as their feet returned to the ground with graceful elegance and took another step, treading without care over the fallen men. “HAI!” the crunch of bone was sickening as they stomped their soles into the upturned faces. The remaining men froze in terror as these warrior nuns continued their regimented advance. The horror of a humiliating defeat of his army by a group of nuns would make him a laughing stock!

“Your swords!” yelled the sovereign “Cut them down. Kill them all!” The nuns reacted first to his cry, scooping up the weapons of the fallen men. The King scoffed. A bunch of nuns pitching swords against his highly trained army! The fields will soon run red with their blood. He laughed as the nuns held their swords delicately as if they were knitting needles but was then shocked as they wielded them with a light touch and speed that belied the heavy weight of the blade. Deftly turning aside the blades of the men who used pure brawn and strength, the women’s swords danced swiftly delivering fast precision strikes that seemed light yet caused serious incapacitation. Men continue to fall, as the women outclassed them proving highly proficient with sword-work. Demure unquestionably feminine women, many with large heaving busts were making a mockery of his army. Fighting them to a standstill with their blades, the long-robed and hooded women displayed a graceful nonchalant ease that mocked the prowess of their male opponents making them look like clumsy oafs before dispatching them. Some used stunning double-sword skills that cut a swathe through the lines combined with extraordinarily high kicks to the head, shamelessly showing thick black stocking-clad legs, that would send a man reeling before cutting him down.

The King gasped as one enthusiastic sister broke a pike in half with the edge of her hand then began swinging the ends around her body at blinding speed while leaping and crouching around men blocking sword-strikes before knocking away their feet from under them and sticking them like hogs.

His mood lightened as a slim young nun was surrounded by 4 men with swords and shields, looking forward to seeing the bitch hacked to pieces. She didn’t look scared but stood her ground confidently. “HAI!” her habit flew up as a knee rose sharply in front of her then straightened as the foot pulsed out to smash straight through the shield and on into his throat. Even before he began to drop away, the slim black-clad Sister from hell spun right around until she was side-on to the man behind. “HA!” the robe flicked up again as a long shapely leg flashed out sideways pulverising his shield like matchwood and driving the bare sole against his throat with a ghastly sound.

The man collapsed clutching his neck as the nimble fresh-faced nun spun to face the third man who began to swing his sword. “YAI!” leaning swiftly away from him while side on, a long leg arced around. “Argh!” his wrist broke with a terrible crack and the sword fell from his hand. “HAI!” her right fist smashed through his shield. “YAH!” her left fist rushed forwards as the right retracted pounding loudly against his stomach. The King watched aghast as her fist plunged deep into the man’s belly. An explosion of breath and spit left his mouth as his face creased in agony before folding over clutching his gut. “HAI!” her right arm shot forward and her open palm smashed against his right cheek, distorting his mouth and whipping his face hard to the left in a spray of spit, blood and teeth. “HA!” her left palm slammed into his jaw, knocking the man to the ground at speed. No sooner had his back hit the dirt than she stood astride his body. “HAI!” leaning over her right fist plummeted hammering his face like a plum upon an anvil. His face disintegrated with the dread sound of bone breaking and blood and gore exploding into the air.