"That's what you get for standing between Kira and a good drink," Torin offered good-naturedly, first drawing his blasters. Then as the attacking Sith seemed to realize they had attackers outside the cantina as well, he swore under his breath and reached for the sword hilt tucked away inside his jacket. The hilt in his hand, his arm extended outward toward one of the charging Sith, he waited. Thinking he had an easy kill, the Sith raised his saber to deal the final blow.
"Checkmate," Torin said softly, pressing a button on the side of the hilt. The heavy blade telescoped out, plunging through the Sith's chest. The man gasped, unprepared for such a fatal blow. He struggled to remain on his feet as Torin pulled his sword back. He tried feebly to raise his saber to block Torin's next swing, but all he succeeded in doing was a feeble twitch of the arm. Then, his head was separated from his body and he knew no more.
Turning from that one, Torin scowled into the bar. "How would you like to try on some of these reflexes, boys?" he murmured. Though no one heard him, one more Sith turned to face him. He brandished the sword with a wicked grin and called out, "Come on over. I got room."
With a war cry, the Sith charged, driving her saber straight for Torin's torso. In a series of swift motions, he batted the blow away, drew one of his array of knives, and stabbed aggressively downward at a slight angle. The blade pierced her shoulder and drove clear to the hilt, its tip finding her heart.
A third Sith saw him, but hesitated to attack. Fully facing Torin, he turned his back to the Jedi, a fatal mistake...
((Penguin, I'm gonna PM you on an idea I had for Torin. I'd like your approval before I fully write him as I'm considering.))