In June of 1472, Duke Charles the Bold of Burgundy was a fucking dickhead. He was such a complete and total jackass to everybody that the King of France had officially declared him a traitor to the crown, and Charles – who, like I just said, was a fucking assclown – got his panties in a wad about the whole thing, raised an army of douchebags and started turning the French countryside into a giant raging inferno of suck. So far in his illustrious career as a no-talent asshelmet who punched third graders in the face, stole candy from underprivileged retards and generally just contributed nothing of value to the human race, Charles the Bold had busted through the city walls of Dinant, Leige, and Nesle, slaughtered all of the inhabitants with his boner and torched everything that wasn’t able to be melted down into ingredients for his home-made meth lab.
Well to the people of the town of Beauvais, the idea of being raped, plundered, pillaged and char-grilled into extra-crispy Peasant Burgers by some stupid jackass with a small-penis complex was about as appealing as a swift punch to the ballsack with a mailed fist. They would have rather licked lead paint off the side of a crackhouse than let this mouth-breathing numbnuts into their town, so when they saw him coming they immediately pulled up the drawbridge, assembled the militia, and prepared to stomp this guy’s gall bladder into bile with everything they had.
Of course, Duke Charles was the sort of guy who had a crippling inferiority complex and needed to conquer lightly-defended cities just for the sake of trying to make people believe that he didn’t have a two-inch wang, so he immediately set in to besiege the poor residents of Beauvais, who had done absolutely nothing to screw with him but somehow ended up getting the short end of the asskicking stick anyways. A mere 300 ragtag militiamen garrisoned the walls of the city, and now they were about to get butt-humped by a horde of pissed off Burgundian knights.
Charles the Bold, being the kind of person who arrogantly demanded that everyone refer to him by the epithet “The Bold” even though his biggest claim to fame was that he married two of his cousins and ended the lives of more defenseless peasants than a bad sci-fi/fantasy movie about talking, fire-breathing magical evil dragons with machine guns strapped to their heads, immediately sent his troops to storm the city walls. He promised several days’ worth of plundering, looting, burninating and murdering to his men when they captured the city, and of course the degenerate assholes in his army were totally pumped up about that for some reason. The brave defenders of Beauvais steeled themselves for a life-or-death struggle, but let’s be honest here: The odds were pretty good that these dudes were going to end up having to find a doctor to dislodge Duke Charles’ steel-toed boot from their collective asses.
Everybody pretty much shit themselves immediately, except for one badass chick who wasn't going to be intimidated by something as trivial as a fucking army of medieval knights – Jeanne the Hatchet. She was kind of like Molly Hatchet, only instead of flirting with disaster, she was a master of it. This teenage peasant girl from Beauvais didn’t really dig the prospect of being manhandled by some rampaging, plunder-seeking snooty Frenchman, and she was willing to do whatever she could to help out the obviously-overmatched defenders of her hometown. Unfortunately, things weren’t looking so hot. The defenders were hurling rocks, arrows, boiling oil, Erlenmeyer flasks full of sulfuric acid, Molotov cocktails and Acme-brand anvils down on the Burgundian troops as they swarmed up the sides of the walls, but a couple of severely-melted faces really only succeeded in pissing them off. The invaders crossed the moat, threw ladders up against the stone walls of the town, and climbed onto the ramparts. Eventually, the champion of the Burgundy army pulled himself on top of the wall, planted the flag of Charles the Bold high above the town, and shouted a bunch of asinine insults about how he was going to have his way with everybody’s mothers.
That was the final straw. Jeanne wasn’t going just going to stand there and let some jackoff stick his gay-ass flag on the walls of her town. She got super pissed off, grabbed the closest thing to her – which just so happened to be a gleaming fucking hatchet – sprinted across the wall like a homicidal Olympian and lunged at the stupid asshole.
The poor knight didn’t even know what hit him. One minute he was standing there, crotch-chopping in the general direction of the citizens of Beauvais, and the next minute this crazy bitch was assaulting him with a hatchet. Jeanne smashed this guy in the shoulder with her axe with enough force to decapitate a rabid Minotaur, and her second swing sent the hatchet blade right into his throat. As the guy stood there, his eyes slowly glazing over, Jeanne kicked him square in the chest, sending him flying off the wall to his death below. Then she pulled the flag up out of the ground, broke the flagpole over her knee and hurled it down into the moat on top of him.
After seeing this display of badassitude so completely xtreme that it generated its own gravitational field, the defenders of Beauvais got super omega pumped up with the energy to punch boulders, play middle linebacker for the Chicago Bears and pull all the stuffing out of their couches with their teeth. The men defending the city fought like they were totally wigged out on a Satanic concoction of Red Bull and crack, killing every Burgundian they could get their hands on and chucking their bodies over the walls of the city. Jeanne continued to flip out like a goddamned ninja on the invaders, swinging her axe like a bloodthirsty lumberjack, and before long Charles the Bold was boldly running away from the ever-swinging death-bringing hatchet arm of our insanely badass heroine. He never returned, and met a miserable end five years later when he was brained with a halberd and his dead body was eaten by wild animals.
When King Louis XI heard about how this one tough broad had single-handedly turned the tide of the battle by hacking up some dude with a hatchet and biting his flag in half with her teeth he couldn’t help but get psyched up as well. He threw a parade for her, lavished her with gifts, and gave her the right to marry the man of her choosing, which was kind of a big deal back in the days of arranged marriages when most women were bought and sold like livestock at the county fair. To this day, there is a statue of Jeanne in the town she so valiantly fought to defend, and in celebration of her heroism a parade known as the “Procession of the Assault” takes place every year on the anniversary of the battle.
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