(This is the starter post for those who elect to play monsters or other denizens in the D&D world the players find themselves in.)<br/><br/>Roughly where the town of Winchester stands on Earth, stands the town of Palmatia in the other world.  The town is under constant threat from, and is slowly being overrun by, orcs, gnolls, and goblins.  The hills to the East had always been chancy, but it had been about a century ago that some new force had arrived, marshaling the previously-disunited tribes and clans into a semi-regular fighting force.<br/><br/>Still, the town had largely been left alone, excepting the occasional raid abducting stray sheep or women, until the Iron Dragon attack. One day, as the orcs were marshalling for a raid, an iron dragon appeared in the sky with a thunderclap.  The wings of the dragon did not flap, and it made a roaring noise like damned souls.  It had red, white and blue painted on its wings.<br/><br/>The "dragon" was flown by one Charles Motley, a U.S. Army Air Corps pilot.  Motley was a very religious man, a Southern Baptist, and he had been having an affair with a farmer's daughter.  The adultery had filled him with mortal fear of God's judgment, but he could not bring himself to end it.  So when he was flying and there was a thunderclap and it was suddenly twilight with hordes of green demons below, Motley pretty much figured his ticket had been punched and an Almighty God had sent him to H-E-double-hockey-sticks for his inequity.<br/><br/>Motley figured he had nothing to lose..his soul was forfeit, he was down to about a quarter-tank of fuel.  But he had a full magazine on the little fighter, so as the demons below watched he dove down and strafed the whole formation.  It was perhaps the earliest game of Doom ever played, and Motley was so lost in utter abject terror at his eternal fate to question how demons in Hell could be brought down by 50-caliber gunfire.  He brought down hundreds before he ran out of ammunition.<br/><br/>Then the airman angled the plane in low, and plowed into a thick crowd of demons, smashing dozens as his plane ground to a halt.  Bestial faces crowded 'round, and Motley pulled a grenade, lobbing it into a crowd of demons.  Pulled another one, kept his finger in the pin-hole.  Drew his .45, and began firing.  And, as he was finally run through with an orc's blade, the grenade fell from his hand, turning the plane into a ball of fire...<br/><br/>The battle with the Iron Dragon and its rider cost the lives of about a third of the orc's warriors.  The orcs figured the people of Palmatia, or humans elsewhere, had harnessed great magicks to use against the orcish race.  So they adopted a different strategy: subversion.  If they could not defeat the humans, they would be bred out...<br/><br/>A generation later, the god Kruumsh gave his reward...two soft, pale, tall human females.  They appeared near an orc encampment, wearing strange fabrics, brightly colored, with three large sigils on them.  They were at once taken, and bred...again and again...<br/><br/>(That's some backstory there...there have been other interactions between Earth and this world, but those will be brought out as time goes on)