They told me I would feel "right at home" at this faire. I suppose that's because of the accents? As it stands, this is what passes for knights in these parts:
Not a bad-looking horse, though, so I met up with him later. His name is Luke.
Got a look at someone calling himself King John, though I overheard rumors he was nothing more than a trumped-up prince. He had someone called Maid Marian with him, and a lackey styling himself the Sheriff of Nottingham.
And then I was strong-armed into visiting some kind of fortuneteller.
As we were leaving, we were assaulted by a sort of caterwauling that turned out to be something that considered itself a band.
Much thanks to the Connecticut Renaissance Faire for their hospitality.