He wore a sheet of silver chain mail armor to protect his neck and chest.

Plates of steel… He wore a sheet of silver chain mail armor to protect his neck and chest.

Plates of steel covered his legs from their tops to his knees. His gray, knit cap provided comfort underneath his metal helmet that gathered to a silver point, just above the mask that guarded his face.

The sleeves of his burgundy, button-down blouse fell just above the top of his thighs. And around it, he tied a white belt, a symbol that revealed a message — this man was a knight.

He eyed his array of fighting material leaned up against the wall. Bamboo sticks and metal shields consumed his thoughts as he chose a combination to use against his opponent.

He picked up a rectangular shield of blue, yellow and white and bounced it on his gloved hand a few times to test it out. When he finally lifted his sword, he violently swung it, front to back, to warm up his arms.

This knight was preparing for what seemed to be a battle in the Renaissance period — except it was last Sunday.

Each week, local members of the Society for Creative Anachronism gather for their fencing and fighting practices. The Society is a nonprofit organization that partakes in re-enactments and recreations of the medieval and Renaissance time periods.

On this particular chilly, November afternoon, it met at the Sarah Heinz Chapel in Pittsburgh.

This knight is a member of the Kingdom of Aethelmearc — comprised of western Pennsylvania, western New York and West Virginia — one of 19 kingdoms in the world of the SCA.

As he prepared for his battle, other dwellers of the kingdom stood along the walls of the dimly lit gymnasium, gearing up for their own combats.

A tall, slender man, who would soon practice with the knight, stretched his lean legs on a wrestling mat that sat upright against the wall.

He wore black, plastic armor to protect his chest and shoulders from what could be a bloody battle. His shiny, silver helmet, which matched that of the preparing knight’s, was the final touch to the uniform he carefully fixated to his body.

He scurried over to the old basketball hoop, tagged the net and flashed a wide-eyed grin at some fellow fighters.

Weapon and shield in hand, he made his way to the center of the gym to meet the knight in battle.

With a quick swing of the stick, the man struck the knight’s helmet using the force of a Major League baseball player who was determined to knock the ball out of the park.

The knight kept his shield raised high and responded with a swift aim to his opponent’s side, powerfully hitting the armor with might and vigor and causing the slap of the plastic to echo throughout the room.

No one blinked an eye.

Bystanders continued their conversations.

Some were members of Pitt Medieval Interest Group. Others were Pitt alumni. And some, in fact many, had no affiliation with Pitt at all.

Cara McCandless, a tall, blond woman dressed in black spandex leggings and a tight, blue shirt, tended to several of the attendees.

She, who calls herself Ariella of Thornbury, is the knight’s squire in the Barony-Marche of the Debatable Lands, a branch of the SCA that includes greater Pittsburgh and most of southwestern Pennsylvania.

“You want something to protect your knees,” she advised Medieval Interest Group president Ashley Capps, a senior at Pitt who calls herself Rosalia Iuliana Andere.

Ariella pulled her hair into a low ponytail to keep it from covering her eyes. Over her armor, she dressed in a long, white, loose shirt that fringed at the bottom, revealing hints of green and yellow underneath.

But Ariella’s potentially violent hobby is hardly reflected in her daytime career — psychiatry.

While her three children — ages 4, 6 and 8 — do practice some youth archery, Ariella plans to focus on her own fighting while they are young. It can, after all, take up to 15 years to become a knight.

And knighthood, Ariella hopes, is in her future.

“It’s a fun hobby,” she smiled, nodding her head as she eyed the room full of others who shared her passion. “Everyone should have something in their life that’s just pure fun.”

But everyone in the SCA need not be involved in the violent activities of medieval times.

On Thursday, some of the same faces that had been masked by metal screens at the fighting practice appeared in Porter Hall at Carnegie Mellon University, a place where the society can oftentimes use facilities to practice various Renaissance activities.

But this time, they were unmasked and ready to dance.

“Let’s start with double forward and back,” announced Jeff Huskinson, who refers to himself by the Welsh name Cai o’r Llyn.

His brown, shoulder-length hair accented his pink-lipped grin, so heartwarming and colorful that the corners of his excited eyes compressed into almost single lines. It matched his Hawaiian shirt.

In fact, none of them were wearing medieval clothes. Rather, they were dressed in comfortable jeans and tops, some shoeless, some sockless, but all of them wore a smile.

Cai, the 29-year-old dance master, arose from one of CMU’s black, modern desks that seemed as if they had been pushed to the side.

On the wall behind him hung a green chalkboard, where Cai had listed several columns of different Renaissance dances — most of which they had learned from Renaissance dance masters’ published books — that the group would practice that night.

He grabbed his partner’s hand as they walked through the steps.

Three couples circled around each other, practicing a “half haze” to the sweet melody of giggling. They weaved around each other, careful not to step on each other’s toes but instead on the red- and khaki-patterned carpet beneath their feet.

“We never want to be improper here,” joked a slim redhead, as she bounced up and down in anticipation of the music.

“Ready for the music?” Cai grinned at the other six dancers, a slim number compared to the 15 attendees from the previous week’s practice.

“Let’s have fun,” a dark-haired dancer swung her arms around as she chuckled, “and try not to kill anyone!”

Cai pressed the button that would soon bring the dancers’ laughs and giggles.

The music began, letting the sound of a joyful recorder seep through the speakers. Suddenly, laughs and giggles were set aside.

The dancers raised their eyebrows and revealed delightful, tight-lipped grins, looking at each other and elegantly nodding their heads to the beat.

The couples were in sync with each other, and the upbeat melody encouraged their steps.

The dancers galloped around the room, linking arms and twirling, moving at a quick pace.

“Oops!” cried the slim, red-haired woman as she giggled and danced, rushing to get in the correct position.

The song ended, signaling the men to bow and the women to curtsy.

“Thank you very much!” Ben Cogan, or Brandubh Donngahaile, 28, said to his dance companion.

“Now I’m dizzy!” she laughed.

The weekly dance practices vary in attendance, but there are always plenty of SCA members at The Pennsic War, a two-week camping event where there are battles between the East and Middle Kingdoms of the SCA.

SCA members partake in activities of all kinds, both martial and non-martial, including gaming, dance, archery, performing arts and choir.

The Pennsic War is nothing new for local Pittsburgh members of the SCA choir.

On Monday night, SCA members gathered at their choir director’s house for practice.

The yellow and amber siding was overpowered by the stained glass and vines covering the front of the old, suburban home.

And with a quick turn of the knob, the door opened, and sounds of singing altos filled the air.

Meanwhile, the tenors and basses sat in the next room, separated from the piano room by only about two feet of wall on either side of the walkway opening.

Kren Kasper — or Arianna of Winthrop — pounded on the piano, tapping her foot, causing a slight movement of her long, dark yet slightly graying hair that fell to the middle of her back, but not to her short, dark bangs that fell to the middle of her forehead.

The pencil behind her ear remained unbothered by the movement.

It was the men’s turn for a quick run-through with Arianna. As she pounded on her piano, which was covered in racks of CDs and music books, the altos sat in the next room to play with one full-grown cat and one orange kitten.

One woman used some yarn that another woman had been using to knit to playfully taunt the kitten, causing him to pounce to the music.

The orange kitten matched the orange drapes on which he was tugging. He grew bored and moved on to gnaw on one of the choir members’ black purses.

At that point, the dark, redwood floor was completely occupied by all of the singers, and altos, tenors and basses bellowed the lyrics of “Allon, Gay Bergeres,” an old, French piece.

“Allon, gay, gay, gay, Bergeres/Allon, gay, soyez legeres, Suyvez moy,” they sang.

“That’s going to be a really tricky syncopation thing going on, as you can tell even I messed up there,” Arianna said. “Let’s try it slowly.”

As the choir prepared for the next song, a German piece, the sound of rustling papers and commotion startled the kitten. He perked up his head, glancing around as if he’d never before seen the singers.

The sad song and sorrowful melody escaped from the singers’ mouths. As Arianna’s beautiful, soprano voice echoed through the room, she moved her hands to guide the others, raising her eyebrows to achieve a perfect pitch.

A miniature snowman patch was fixed to the neck of her hunter green turtleneck. She tapped her foot, hidden by a black, moccasin-like shoe with a bow on the top.

Hand-calligraphed awards covered the walls, nine on the right, more than four on the left, and three on the mantle nearby.

Two awards gleamed next to her young sons’ endearing artwork of construction paper and watercolor that covered two-thirds of the piano room’s wall.

Arianna had received these awards — one of which was from 20 years ago — for services or arts she had accomplished in the SCA over the years, including music, valor and ferocity, or for simply being a kind person. Some were for her, and some for her late husband.

But don’t let the awards and medieval decor lead to assumptions — Arianna works as a technical writer for eLearning during the day.

“We have lawyers, doctors, all kinds of professions in the SCA,” she said.

Garrett Kajmowicz, 25, from Ontario, moved to Pittsburgh for an opportunity in software engineering. But the first thing he did upon his arrival was find the local chapter of the SCA.

He chuckled, his kind eyes smiling behind his glasses.

“They’re friendly, fun and zany!”