If you come across a piece of iron with this marking, you are likely looking at one of the following:
The sphere trembled. Vojtěch felt a tug at his very soul, as if the forest itself was urging him to act. He remembered the old legend his grandmother used to tell: a woodcutter once carved a wooden boy from a fallen oak, and when the boy was finished, the forest breathed life into him. The boy became a guardian, protecting the woods from any who would harm them. The legend called that guardian “Marký Slovák”. woodman casting marky slovak
Slovak’s signature look is what makes him a favorite for casters: If you come across a piece of iron
The forest didn’t forget. It just cast. The boy became a guardian, protecting the woods
Vojtěch’s eyebrows furrowed. “Marký?” he muttered. In his village, “Marký” was the nickname of a mischievous boy who could climb any tree in a heartbeat. “And Slovák? I am Slovak, but I am not Marký.”