[There is] an island made of volcanic rock, green, with an entrance, which is a valley through which a river flows, and on both slopes of the valley statues like the moah stand, carved out of the rock of the slopes, still attached to the rock, looking out too the sea, except in the back, unseen for those who first set foot on the island, there is a ravine one has to pass through, and which has statues looking sideways to the slopes. A kind of guard-like structure.

Once inside the island, it turns out that there is a volcano-like mountain which holds a lake, from which periodically water flows into the river. The island is green and has a lush forest on the inside, also there are pyramids, like those found on the islands of the Mediterranean Sea, and some caves. There the remnants of a once-existing civilization are found, and the moah represents the statues of those who died, one for each family lineage. On the back of the moah the names are carved, from every person who has died in that family lineage. There is still a culture present, but there are no more new moah's carved.

There are virtually no trees of a certain kind left, except in a remote spot, not accessible by humans, a kind of high ground on which animals live, with little or no predators, and who cannot be killed by humans. This highland is rather big, and surrounded by steep walls. It has its own lake, and from the showers falling there, a steady flow comes down, although sometimes it just will be a dribble.

From time to time fruits come down from the high grounds, edible fruits, and they are seen as feast. They are shared with the whole community.
On one side at the inner side is the high ground with its forests, at the other side, is a citadel like structure. This is were the temples are, where they can shelter if needed. Where they live. A place that can be easily defended, and is virtually impossible to conquer.

In the last 150 years or so, there has been peace. But then there is the story of those dark days, when from the North came those that were once friends, but then they had become invaders. Ever since, people have become a bit less trusting. And some of the moahs have been transformed from simple statues to guard towers. So now in the dark, rather than to walk freely into the plains, one must pass a carved and built wall, where the guard towers are giant moahs, whose eyes are lighted up in the night of the fires burning in them. A giant port opens in the morning and closes in the evening.

In times of danger, or when foreign people come to visit the island, it can arrive that all the eyes of several moahs on the slopes are lit up, giving a gloomy spectacle. A bit like in the first strip of Edgar P Jacobs, but not quite. There it is only one slope, while here it is 2 slopes, with a narrow entrance. From the description it might look that the island is not that big, but that would be a wrong assumption; seen from the top the citadel is very small, as are the high planes.

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