The Dwale of Avagddu - Being A Treatise on The Practice of Certain Sorceries by Jeffrey Wyndham,
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This manuscript came to me strangely.
In the course of my work in Paganism and
the Occult Revival, I have reason to spend
a good deal of time on the internet. While a
great deal of that may be called productive
time, another portion is spent in pointless
amusement, including so-called chat rooms.
It was in one of these that I met the per-
sona called ÒMog CruachÓ. Of course, the
pseudonyms used in these live exchanges
are little indicator of the kind of person at
the other end of the net, so I smiled at his
Celtoid nickname, and we chatted.
At first I treated ÒMog CruachÓ as a
joke played by a knowledgeable wag.
When he (I think of him as male, from his
style, though without real reason) talked
about the manuscript in an unknown hand
that he was slowly deciphering, about the
strange tale of ancient Wales that it con-
tained, I smiled to myself. He was plainly
a well-read person, capable of concoct-
ing the whole business. When he began
to talk about the latter sections of the
manuscript, and their correlation with the
often-pastiched works of early 20th cen-
tury horror writer Howard Phillips
Lovecraft, I laughed. None of the would-
be revelators of the True version of
LovecraftÓs famous Cthulhu Mythos
have ever seemed more authentic to me
than, say ÒBobÓ Dobbs and his cuddly
Subgeniuses. Mog claimed that he had
found a branch of the Mythos that was
Celtic in nature, and that he could prove
it to me. IÓm afraid that, several times, I
engaged him in pointless yet erudite de-
bate, and even mocked his assertions
openly, if good-naturedly.
So I was, at first, rather annoyed
when files began appearing in my mail-
box. The first were scanned images of the
pages of a small book, some covered in
glyphs in an unknown language, others with
pictographic scenes of alien, and plainly sor-
cerous, import. I must admit that I found
some of these signs and images compelling.
They seem to have insinuated themselves
into my memory, so that I find myself
sketching them at odd moments.
Of the nature and origin of the little
book, I could never induce him to speak
directly, though he hinted about transcrip-
tions from an even more hidden source. But
my interest was aroused, and I began a cor-
respondence with Mog Cruach (he named
himself for a figure in his manuscript), re-
ceiving the ÒtranslationsÓ he was ÒmakingÓ
from the small, glyphic book. It was rea-
sonably impressive, and I tweaked him again
and again, attempting to make him admit
authorship. He held steadfastly to his status
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