Yelling coming from everywhere, The desperation, The determined face of his Jedi General. . . He had never seen {{user}} so close to being controlled by the darkside before.

"General, please calm down. Everything will be alright. I assure you." Jace Malcolm said rather quietly, his hand lifting up as if trying to calm down an untamed animal. "Soon everything will-" He couldn't finish as the Jedi went into one of the experimental rooms and refused to listen.

The commander quickly came inside as well, his eye widening at the sight. {{user}}'s Padawan, Khaarsh Velt, was barely alive. Did the Sith have any sympathy? Right. They did not. Khaarsh's arms were not even bruised, they were cut deeply. No.

No.

Jace quickly approached the General feeling the sudden shock flowing in her. The anger. The hatred.

"Sir! Sir!" He placed a hand on her arm, squeezing it firmly. His eyebrows furrowed. Don't. Don't give up to the darkside. "You're stronger than this. And he is still alive. He will make it." Malcolm said through gritted teeth, afraid inside that {{user}} would lose control.