Occams Razor

Kar steps back inside to the hall and makes a beeline for the instant coffee, whipping himself up a cup of it and setting it aside for a couple minutes. From his bag, he draws a pen and notebook, placing them near the water cooler as he looks about to those who are awake.

"Morning, everyone. I'm not going to call it a good one for obvious reasons. I'm looking to get a list going of what people's trades are. Doctors, mechanics, those capable with technology, and those skilled at combat. I'm not looking to draft anyone, but this is more of getting a head-count of the town. We need to know what resources are available within our skill sets, and be able to manage them if we hit another chaotic crisis like the many we ran into yesterday.

Those skilled with medicine, please, speak to me if you need supplies. I came prepared with extra in case you need new wound dressings, sterile syringes, or anything for pain management. To those of you who are far better at fighting than the rest of us, I heard talk of getting a town watch going. This will be a fantastic time to jot down if you're willing to participate in it."

Taz wakes up in his seated position in a corner, where he spent the night. Before he opens his eyes, he does an inventory of his new aches and pains and thinks 'I did three years in prison and I got hurt more yesterday than in that entire stretch. We gotta get off this damn island.' He looks up at Kar who has just come back in and made his announcement. "Yo, I'm a Mechanic and I can fix your weapons, your armor and your rides, plus in a pinch I can stop you from bleeding out. I'm also a fair hand at smashing stuff with this length of rebar."

He then gets up and makes himself a cup of the instant and takes a sip, "ugh, we would get stranded on the only patch of ground in New England without a Dunks every twenty feet."

Dr. Rue walks into the rec and notice Kar has already started the list. A look of relief flash across her face. She waits her turn then tells him "I'm a forensic investigator. Everyone here is livelier than I'm used to but i can patch them up if need be. And if that doesn't work, I can find whomever killed them."

"William Mayfield. I am knowledgeable when it comes to the occult, demonology, and the paranormal. While my trade may seem strange to many of you I ask of you to open your eyes and minds to what you have seen. I know how to combat evil entities and how to protect others from falling under their influence. Furthermore I know my way around a fight and can stop the injured from bleeding out at least until the professionals arrive on the scene." The Exorcist said with a tip of his large hat.

*waves a pipe around, the smell of vanilla hangs in the air*
"Name's Professor John M. G. Challenger here. You can just call me Professor. I'm Professor Emeritus of Psychology and also Professor of Archaic Languages at Yale University.
I am fluent in Algic, Brythonic, Hieratic, Mayan, Sinitic, and Uralic. I have a license to provide psychiatric help. I know the basic computer use and I am a good "study" when it comes to items."

"What?....Oh, yes....you did see me talking with those Raven Spirits last night. Nice enough, chaps. Just a bit hungry and curious"

From the door to the porch a familiar voice chimes in. "Good think'in there 'doc'. I might catch hell fer' it but I figure I can run down some 'ah what I 'kin do for these nice folks."

"Seargeant Robert Grey, Blackstone."

Officer Grey thinks for a moment, weighing just how much of his training applies to their current situation, and how much he'll get in trouble for 'leaking' information that few in town have sufficient clearance to know.

"I'm trained in the following: Conventional Armored Vehicles, Conventional Small Arms, Conventional Long Arms.."
He pauses, clearly skipping something on his mental list. "Asymmetrical combat tactics, Rotary aircraft: Pilot, Fixed Wing aircraft: Pilot.."
"Fixed Wing aircraft: Loadmaster, Advanced Small Arms, Advanced Long Arms.."
"Combat data manipulation, Advanced Lock systems, Combat demolitions, Explosive Ordinance Disposal..."

He frowns as he goes over the list again in his head, then sighs and shakes it, "That's about all I 'kin share. There's more of course, but y'all are either not cleared for it or it 'aint likely to be something we run across. I'm gonna catch hell just for say'n all that much to a bunch civs..."

Nick comes in quickly, saying "Hi Doc. You can put me down for unlocking inconvenient locks, disposing of IEDs or security systems, and I'm good for backup in a fight; other than that, I have a bunch of contacts for research that I can't get to right now with communications down, so I suppose that's not really relevant to this list..."

Avis, smoking a cigarette on the porch, glances over her shoulder.

"I hit things. Hard. I hit them harder if they smell like brimstone, not that that's any of your business."

"I make "candy"," says Red Raver, bopping her head up and down to the musical playlist in her ears from the Nano. Leaning back against the wall as she stretches out across the bench near Professor Challenger, she continues detailing, using her fingers to count or punctuate her speech.

"You name it, I can make it. Want a candy that'll stop aches, pains, over-doses of candy, help against weakness, or even hit up someone else with it? Cause them to be Stricken with grief that they can't prevail against Modern Science and Good Old SHU-GAH? Then seriously, let me help you. Ask that dude that was with Miss Jones: he got one of my Vali-Yums. They're pretty bitchin'.

"And if you'd prefer a non-edible, then I can hook you up with slight changes to your bullets, your fancier fat round bullets, and even a bit o' your magic for those freaky-deaky people who have been slinging it around like crazy. Geezus, you'd think we were at David Copperfield meets the Vampire Club LARP or some crazy shit! Right, Copperfield. It was Copperfield... right, Professor?" she asks, the cocky grin becoming replaced by a confused look as she peers over her sunglasses.

"...I guess I... I uh... also can help people, like, not die? Like, in a decent way. I can pretty much cure what ails you, or give you an ale... mmm... ale... man, I need a smoke..."

And like that, Red Raver's eyes disappear back behind the sunglasses, and she's lost in the music again, just bopping her head along.

Ondrej straightens his tie and pulls out a shiny chrome pen to write on his business card:

Ondrej Vlk: Lawyer/Manager TRDC Beverages. BEER! contracts/computers. Carrying gun for defense. Cane because knee is bad, but cane good. Must learn the first aid.