A flying crate propelled through the force slammed into a small group of battle droids at the rear of the skirmish, followed by a concussive explosion that knocked several other targets off their alloyed feet.
"Ooh. Pretty." Trychon mused out loud as he brought his hand back to the hilt of his double-bladed weapon to continue deflecting shots. "I wonder what was in that box?"
"Does it matter?" Dianna asked him as she continued to fire from behind the protection of his weaving blade. She watched as five consecutive bolts disabled three more droids. A glance over her shoulder told her that it would still be several minutes at least before they were able to go after the Hutt herself.
"Hey, Di?" Trychon asked her. "I've got ten so far. How about you?"
"This isn't a competition, Trych." She kneeled and concentrated her fire once more. A moment later, one of the automatons she had fired at lifted inexplicably in the air and hung their long enough for her shot to fly unabated through the air it had previously occupied. Then it took off across the room, bowling into the legs of another droid and disabling them both as their power sources coursed electricity over damaged bodies.
"Hey!" She yelled. "I had that one!"
"I thought you said this wasn't a competition." He turned around and grinned at her, blocking a shot behind his back as he did.
She gave him a nasty look, clearly unnerved by his sudden lack of attention towards the incoming shots. Somehow, he managed to block two more bolts he couldn't have seen as he looked curiously around. While he was still somewhat effective, his reach was reduced and some fire was creeping in around the edges she was sure he could block if he would turn around and concentrate.
"TRYCH!" She yelled, as the fire began to creep towards her.
Then she saw a large metal crate settle down in front of her, already scored multiple times from the firefight.
Trychon jumped on top of the crate and winked. "Take cover. This one hasn't exploded yet, so you should be fine. Oh, and try not to hit me." He crouched until gravity started to pull him backwards off the edge, and he pushed off in an arcing back flip that took him just past the center of the chamber. As he landed gracefully, he swung his lightsaber behind him into a ready pose, bisecting a droid as he did.
Dianna shook her head at his antics as she leaned out to the side of her newly provided cover and fired off shot after shot, beheading and vaporizing the torsos of the droids Trychon was farthest from. The ones still concentrating on her.
Trychon, for his part, was like a Zakanzian Rat Devil in the middle of a den of deadly Fombrian Horned Lizards. He was ducking under swinging assault rifle stocks, twisting in mid-air avoiding stray weapon fire, and flipping over the hapless droid, more to play with them than to protect himself. His blade was a blur as he danced through the storm, leaving glowing metal in its wake.
He could barely be heard counting to himself over the sounds of the battle.
She was considering rolling her eyes when a timed thermal charge rolled to her. She looked to see how fast the indicator was blinking and determine if she should run or throw it back, when she realized that the timer had not been depressed. Stupid droids... she thought to herself as she picked it up and activated it. She fired a few shots at the feet of a cluster of droids without aiming. Predictably, they backed up a step in response, just as she arced the explosive into the now closely huddled group.
She growled as it came to a stop at their feet and was still blinking. The droid nearest to it picked it up to return again. She squinted and eyed the target, exhaling as she squeezed the trigger. Her aim was true, nailing the explosive right in the center and causing it to erupt, destroying eight droids as it did.
There were two lonely droids left in the middle of the room. It was always a source of amusement to Dianna that droids began to appear intimidated under bad odds. In reality, she knew that their 'panicked' glancing back and forth and slow backstep was a result of their tactic chips trying and repeatedly failing to find a solution. Trychon dashed towards one, grabbing it by its head as he vaulted over it and smashing it against the wall, limbs scattering in different directions.
The last one jerked into the air and its arms folded behind its back, rifle still in one hand. It began shaking its head and swinging its legs wildly in an attempt to free itself from the invisible vise that held it. Then it could no longer do that, and the creaking of metal could be heard over distant noises, though no limb gave way. Finally, it moved the only thing left to it in a last ditch attempt to free itself somehow. As the trigger compressed, the rifle fired squarely between its shoulder joints, and its limbs went limp in mock resignation.
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