The muffled strains of woodwind music drifted in on the ocean breeze, and the air was suddenly filled with the scent of exotic spices. From behind a curtain of fog emerged an impossible-looking ship, her bow curled back like the toe of a jester's slipper. Her decks and rails, a spellbinding tapestry of fabric and wood, spoke of far away ports across the sea of time. The old man lowered the long wooden horn from his lips and peacefully gazed out over the bow. The Mystic Mariner had arrived. - Dean Morrissey