Thy mother is so blasphemous she once published a theory challenging conventional wisdom on the nature of the cosmos but was later forced to withdraw it or risk being excommunicated.
Thy mother is so bad at celestial navigation she travelled on pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela via a vastly circuitous route.
Thy mother is so grotesquely rotund her body is used to shield an entire company of infantry from arrow volleys. She has served bravely in countless battles and saved many a soldier’s lyfe. She is renowned amongst her fellow men-at-arms as a hefty but stouthearted warrior of utmost repute.
Thy mother is so provincial she wore last year’s model of pointy hat to this year’s Pointy Hat Fashun Banquet.
Thy mother is the East. Merchants sail to her across the seas seeking gold and spice. Many of them never return from this perilous voyage; the ones who do become rich beyond their wildest dreams.
Thy mother is so poor her inheritance following her father’s demise was hardly enough to support her family, but she ultimately was able to support them through hard work and thrift.
Thy mother is so ugly one would think she were a witch were it not for the fact that witches oft employ dark magick to make themselves appear attractive. Unless, of course, this is part of her devious witch scheme to throw Witchhunter Balthasar Nórn off her trail, in which case thy mother is also so devious.
Thy mother is so buxom she caused Sir Leesworthy to turn his head in wonder in the midst of a joust, whereupon he was struck in the throat by his opponent’s lance. He later succumbed to his wounds, but with his dying breath he wished only to gaze once more upon her ample bosom, a wish which she gladly granted.
Thy mother is a castle under siege. Many strong men are scaling her ramparts and tunneling under her moat day and night. Come winter they encamp in the fields round her walls hoping to starve her out, but in the end she will prevail and indeed much enjoys the challenge.
Thy mother is so gargantuan she was worshipped as a Goddess of Plenty in the Elden Days. She is still considered a minor deity amongst certain pagan sects. They pray to her to bring rain and a bountiful harvest. Often she does, then she proceeds to eat it all herself because she is so gargantuan.
Thy mother is illiterate. Such is the way things are for womyn.
Thy mother is so long in the tooth that thy father spent many years studying dentistry to remedy the problem before discovering age is not caused by teeth, but by tyme, which marches ever forward. He later used these skills to establish the village’s first dental practice. His business was so successful that thy mother and he were able to save enough golden coins to live out their final years in comfortable retirement in a cozy cottage on the southern coast.
Thy mother is so knavish she once birthed a bastard child but tried to convince everyone it was legitimate even though the child looked exactly like the peasant version of Lord Smallpeter, with whom she was known to have dalliances. That child was thee. Thou art a bastard with a Smallpeter.
Yea, verily, I would use these upon mine chums, if only their mothers had not been taken in raids by the savage North men last summer.