Hasjo proceeded through the streets of 1313. It was dark. Neon lights laminated the path before him. Criminal vermin scurried into their hideouts at the sight of the Jedi. It was evident what he was. For the sigil of the Silver Jedi Order was branded onto his shoulder plates. At his hip hung a series of weapons. The Lightsaber Pike, the San-Ni Staff and the Lightwhip. He heard it, the roar of a being. He too felt it. The dark side permeated from a being ahead. He broke into a break neck sprint. He saw a fleeting crowd as they staggered away from the brawl. He came upon the ground, watching as some beast clawed a Zabrak. That was all the evidence he needed to stop this fight from escalating. He moved forward. Too late. The crimson plasma of a lightsaber burst to life with a familiar hiss. Hasjo's armoured hand instinctively curled around the hilt of his San-Ni Staff.
The weapon resembled a baton, 50 centimetres in length. He grabbed the opposite ends of the metallic pole, twisted and pulled. A 10 centimetre long stun prod then sprang from each end of the staff, and two high-voltage power couplings would crackle to life in between the three pieces. Activated, the San-Ni tripled in length to 150 centimetres. The electrical discharge was powerful enough to shear off limbs, cook flesh, and even a near miss would give severe burns to an enemy, the wielder however seemed to be shielded from this, through the use of miniature heat sinks. The weapon was a difficult device to utilise in combat, but hugely versatile. Due to the rarity of the weapon, few knew how to use it, and even fewer knew how to defend themselves against it. The aspirant Exotic Weapons Master launched himself forward as the Sith cleaved the mans shoulder. "Surrender now!" He shouted in a bionic voice.
@[member="Maleus"]
