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. 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 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 the coming generations.