On the slope of a naked rock somewhere in Skaþinawjô - the isles
of Skaþis - a blonde, fur-clad man immortalises his memory of
Mannus, the oldest Ing. A 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 Istwô. 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 the
coming generations.