In the days of yore when the Christian God sent his only son to save the wretched human race, the Olympian spirits had sent a saviour of their own. Unlike Jesus, however, the saintly pagan son was not without sin, nor error; nor would he ignore temptations, and desire. Ill fated from the start-he would not become a humble carpenter either, but one who is skilled in warfare, thievery, and deceit. He, who would begin his life without a name, or an inkling of whence he came-the last descendant of a vanishing legacy-would someday be called to perform great miracles. Through death, the gods gave him life. In his quest to create a heaven on earth, Daedalus Rufus becomes a mortal god to the people. He turns misery into bliss, and doldrums into merriment and games. Like Alexander the Great, the gods favor Daedalus Rufus. But, as with all the illustrious names that march into the abyss, he has also been cursed.