It was not previously recorded before being noticed in 2012, which is perhaps surprising given how thoroughly studied the Glendalough complex generally is. The slab is thin, roughly dressed, and set upright in the earth, reaching only half a metre in height, its top worn to a gentle curve.

What makes it worth a second look is the carving on its east face. A Latin cross, small but cut deeply into the granite to a depth of roughly a centimetre, sits near the top of the face. Immediately below it runs a horizontal incised line that terminates at each end in a T-shape, giving it something of the appearance of a capital I rotated onto its side. Below that again is a hemispherical depression, essentially a shallow curved groove open to one side, and below that a crude rectangular hole cut through the slab itself. The relationship between these elements is not entirely clear. The horizontal line with T-shaped terminals and the hemispherical depression, taken together, may represent a pair of initials, perhaps D and I or I and D, rendered sideways and somewhat abstractly. It is the kind of speculation that resists confident resolution, which is part of what makes the stone interesting.

To find it, use the modern headstone of Edward Magee (1912 to 1993) as your reference point: the inscribed slab stands approximately 1.5 metres to the south of that marker, and roughly 24 metres south-south-west of the round tower. The cross and other markings are on the east-facing surface, so approach from that side in reasonable light.