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A flag marks their realm. It's a wide, vertical white stripe in between two wide black stripes. It hangs from a wooden stake.

Two knights stand in the middle of a ring set off by loose rope. They stand in the middle of Roosevelt Park on Saturday afternoon. The rope winds around three trees and that wooden stake. It's like a makeshift boxing ring.

"Gentlemen. On your honor. Lay arms."

That's the ringleader. He's got kind of an Irish look going, with kilt and tam o'shanter. He smokes a cigarette.

At his command, two of the members of Intense Medieval Combat, in full armor and mail, with real swords, start whacking each other.

There's a "referee" in the ring, dressed in a Chinese hat and loose wraps.

If the participants' armor doesn't absorb or deflect the blow, it's going to hurt. Maybe break a bone.

One knight tries for a trip takedown, but he's the one who falls to his knees. He's quickly staring at the business end of a sword. Game over.

Other warriors mill about near the relief tent, a black-and-faded-red pagoda with harlequin trim. A participant has his helmet off, his head is shaved. He lights a cigarette.

Soon he wanders away from the group, clanging like a plastic bag full of aluminum cans off to the recycling center. He heads to the far end of the ring, near the video camera set on a tripod. He collapses onto his back. Another knight walks over to join him.

Cl-clunk, flat on his back, too. Under a towering tree. Splayed in the shade.

Another round begins.

"Lay arms."

A young couple sit in the grass nearby eating ice pops. An ice cream pushcart circles the park.

Outside the ring, another warrior is taking a break. He is stripped of his armor down to his waist. His face is red. It's at least 90 degrees at 2 o'clock, and those suits look as if they weigh about half as much as the fighter's body weight.

With his breastplate off we can see what he wears underneath. It's a Metallica T-shirt.