The cleric Dan Wheeler watched in horror as the incorporeal being manifested itself behind the young woman, tearing at her flesh before casually throwing her at far wall of the train compartment.  His natural reaction was to panic, to scrabble away, to run as far away as he could in the limited space available to him... maybe if he had had time to prepare mentally for a demonic assault he would have rallied and acquitted himself more dutifully, but in a world where at a moment's notice one could be eviscerated by unseen foes called forth from some spectral abyss, he was simply not capable of cold calculated actions like those of the trained combatants around him.<br/><br/>Luckily however, his natural reaction did not matter, for he was draped in the mantle of the Holy Spirit, and whereas hours ago before his sacrificial offering he would have soiled himself at the sight of the creature before them, now he felt the calm assurance that unerring righteousness bestowed upon him.  He was no trained soldier, no, but a Holy Crusader nonetheless and his spirit would not be allowed to buckle.  Even as the girl tumbled to the floor after striking the wall, Wheeler was already in action, retrieving the small golden crucifix he wore on a necklace beneath his shirt.  With an utterance of faith the cleric imbued the crucifix with the power of the Holy Spirit, and it transformed in his hands to become a longsword, of brilliant white metal that glowed as though still in the heart of the forge, seemingly leaving an afterimage where it whispered through the air.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">I don't know the extent of the powers granted to you preacher but it might be a good idea to start using whatever you have.</span>"<br/><br/>Wheeler nodded silently, but knew better than to blindly rush in.  Armed with holy relics or not he was still just a man, and a few community center night sessions with some medieval aficionados did not a longswordsman make.  Besides, it seemed like the man taking charge had more need for the small aisle space as he began to summon some goetic demon of his own.  Wheeler could see that the summoning would take precious seconds during which the Psychopomp might attack again, but with calm adroitness the young woman beside him conjured some gloaming restrictive tendrils from her own shadow which made to ensnare the creature, preventing it from attacking or fleeing.  Meanwhile the Egyptian dashed into the compartment with an incredible burst of strength, quickly assembling an exotic weapon from the disassembling briefcase he'd carried.  With the Psychopomp immobilized, about to be fired upon and then attacked by the goetic demon summoned forth by Kristoff, Wheeler saw that his most helpful action would not be to attack the creature as well but rather attempt to heal the injured girl.<br/><br/>Leveling the point of his cruciform sword at the girl who'd been lashed by the demon's bladelike tendrils before being thrown against the wall, Wheeler muttered "<span style="font-style: italic">Recuperabit puncta ictus</span>," while making the sign of the cross with his other hand.  If the girl were receptive to his efforts she would feel the inflicted wounds tighten and close, knitting back up like a time-lapse video in a documentary.  She would still feel the pain of the initial injuries, unfortunately that would not go away until her body actually recovered, but at least she would no longer be bleeding or in danger of further injury while moving.  Of course, with so many combative magical energies and auras clashing throughout the small train car it was entirely possible the healing energies would be completely lost into the ether, like a weak signal failing to cut through static white noise.