On the slope of a naked rock somewhere in Skapinawjo – the isles
of Skapis – a blonde, fur-clad man immortalises his memory of
Mannus, the oldest Ing. large manlike shape is engraved in the
rock; bloodred in colour, with a large phallus.
His hands are stretching toward the sky. Mannus, the son of
Tuisto, made sure his tribe survived the cold north together with
his sons; Inguz, Herminuz and Istwo. Tuisto's heart is warmed by
the sight of his descendants; he knows the gods are not
forgotten. Then – he reasons – there is hope after all, for [bad word] generations.