The absurd monstrosities of the black mountains, those bleak hills and vales of southern Powys, are unwise to seek out regardless of their usefulness and yet many risk their sanity and their lives to do so. Desperation is ever the enemy of prudence, but sometimes, if the tales are true, the wocorau are receptive to the needs of others, although none can guess at the reasons why they descend from their crags to lend their strength. Twroch ap Roch, perhaps the largest of these nonsense-beasts and certainly the most aggressive and deafening and noisome, may be an erratic ally of the Brythoniaid but when the mood is upon him his bone-cracking beak and his meat-ripping talons can prove the fulcra between triumph and ruin: and should the enemy sport creatures more brutal than he, one ear-splitting shriek is enough to bring them low enough to reckon with.
