Faction The Edge of Night - Petition from Alderaan [THR Senate]

[Liana Organa]

Naboo, Senatorial Meeting Chamber, Off-Hours
Gram Arranda - Open to THR​

The High Republic Senate was not in session today. This meeting couldn't happen if it was— after all Liana had no real political power here. She was only a junior diplomat, a figurehead at best. She could not call the Senate out of recess, but she could petition any senators who would hear her out; to meet her and the coming Alderaanian delegation over the planet's precarious position on the fringes of former Imperial, now Sith territory. Perhaps there would be little they could do. Perhaps they would not care to. But the High Republic was Alderaan's best hope, and so try she would.

Besides, this was the best chance she was going to get to show that she could handle the responsibilities this line of work came with.

Those who were interested in hearing out this petition had already gathered in the meeting chamber. Liana waited anxiously by the entrance, then perked up suddenly to a comm ping that came after she had reacted to it. Foresight was a funny thing, and she had still yet to get the hang of it. Meekly, the junior ambassador cleared her throat to bring the room's attention back to her, "Thank you all for coming. To those of you that have not met me, I am Liana Organa: Princess of Alderaan and our Junior Diplomat to the High Republic. If you're here, it means you have at least some vested interest in the fate of Alderaan, and for that we are grateful for your time.

As it stands, the Galactic Empire has lost control of the Core. Normally, that would be a breath of fresh air for us on Alderaan, but the Sith Covenant have seized power over their territories faster than we ever could have predicted. We've no certainty if and when the Sith may try and lay claim to Alderaan in turn, but we must consider it a strong possibility, if not an outright inevitability. So for this reason, we ask for your help." She looked back toward the door, sensing a coming presence. The door opened right on cue. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is Gram Arranda: Vizier, High Council Chairman, and now Ambassador of Alderaan to the High Republic."

 

[Gram Arranda]

Gram was somehow both in his element and out of it. Politics was his world and had been for the past thirty years; he had found his niche, his calling, in the vaulted halls of the High Council of Alderaan. Yet here on Naboo, outside of his sphere of carefully crafted influence, he was a fish out of water. The people he would be meeting today were, quite literally, from another planet. Their culture and customs were alien to him. He would have to tread carefully lest he make a poor first impression. Never mind that he hadn’t had to make an impression on anyone in a very long time.

The door slid open and he stepped into the meeting chamber. He was dressed like an Alderaanian in a simple and elegant blue and white suit, his gray hair neatly slicked back. He paused as Liana Organa introduced him. “Thank you, Your Highness.” He addressed her with the respect worthy of a Princess, then turned to face the gathering, giving those present a bow. “And thank you all for coming here today.”

He wasn’t sure how big of a turnout there would be. How many people would care about the fate of Alderaan? Many, he knew, had already written it off as a lost cause. Even back home, it had been suggested that they only ask the Republic for sanctuary in the event that they became a government-in-exile. As if it was all that they could hope for. It wasn’t enough.

Gram knew in his heart that things were truly dire. In fact, the situation had already worsened in the time it took for him to travel through hyperspace to Naboo. His prepared speech, carefully transcribed on his datapad, seemed poor and ill-suited to the magnitude of his mission. What his Queen had asked of him, what Alderaan needed of him—it was impossible.

Then make it possible.

“I come before you to ask that Alderaan be permitted to join the High Republic,” Gram said. “I don’t mean that as an idle fancy, nor do I demand it of you.

“I believe that the leaders of the Republic, being the last bulwark of liberty and equality in the galaxy, know exactly what is at stake here. The Sith will not stop at Coruscant. They will not stop at Alderaan. They will expand as far as they possibly can, until their tyrannical reign extends across the stars. They will reach Naboo one day, if their conquest is not checked.

“Alderaan has long been a bastion of freedom going back to the days of the First Galactic Empire. We share many of the ideals of the Republic and would have much to offer. Do not let us fall prey to our mutual enemy. Let us instead combine our strength to fight the forces of evil.”

 

[Ayumi Pallopides]

Melanie Sato

The figure of Ayumi stood listening flanked by two imposing women in gleaming white-and-aurodium Senate Commando armor. Ayumi Pallopides stepped forward first, her presence commanding the room before she even spoke. At six-foot-two she moved with the relaxed, sweet grace of someone who had long since stopped needing to prove her strength. Her straight, silken dark-honey hair spilled loose down her back to waist level, shot through with natural aurodium threads that caught every stray beam of light like molten filament. Deep honey eyes flecked with amber that flared aurodium under the overhead glow swept the chamber once, calm and unreadable. A faint childhood scar, pale as frost, sat just beneath the full curve of her lower lip; it would only show when she chose to smile.

Her outfit was ceremonial yet unmistakably martial, a masterpiece of Atrisian-inspired craftsmanship reworked for both intimidation and exquisite beauty. She wore a sleeveless high-collared robe of liquid white silk-velvet that clung like a second skin, its surface embroidered with intricate whorls of aurodium thread that traced ancient constellations and looping mandalas. The fabric parted at the front in a deep V that plunged past her sternum before being caught and held by a broad, sculpted aurodium breastplate ornate yet functional, shaped to her torso like liquid metal poured over muscle. Layered aurodium pauldrons curved over her shoulders, each etched with concentric sunburst patterns and linked by delicate chains of amber beads that chimed faintly with her movement.

From the narrow waist the garment flowed into a long, slit-sided skirt of the same white silk-velvet, the high slits revealing long, bronzed legs wrapped to mid-thigh in thin strips of hammered aurodium leather. A wide belt of interlocking aurodium plates sat low on her hips, centered with a large heart-shaped obsidian stone veined with aurodium. Matching vambraces climbed her forearms aurodium over white, etched with the same celestial motifs while her hands remained bare, displaying callused knuckles and the faint scars of a lifetime spent fighting. Every piece of aurodium carried the same warm, sunlit alloy, chosen deliberately to complement the copper-bronze glow of her skin and the honeyed warmth of her hair and eyes. Flanking her half a pace behind stood her two personal guards, mirror images of lethal elegance in modified Senate Commando armor.

Both women wore the same stark white materia plates edged and accented in bright ceremonial aurodium no helmets, leaving their faces and hair fully visible. The armor was streamlined for mobility yet unmistakably elite: high-shouldered pauldrons, articulated chest plates sculpted to the female form, narrow waist cinches, and thigh-high greaves that left the backs of their knees free for movement. aurodium laurel motifs curled along every seam, and the Senate crest at the center of each breastplate had been subtly reworked with Atrisian geometric inlays. The guard on Ayumi's right had skin the color of dark umber and thick, glossy black dreadlocks gathered into a high, tight crown, several aurodium cuffs threaded through the roots. Her eyes were storm-gray, sharp and unblinking.

The guard on the left was lighter-skinned sun-aurodium and wore her snow-white dreadlocks loose down her back, each thick cord wrapped sporadically with fine aurodium wire that glinted as she moved. Her eyes were a striking ice-blue, almost luminous against her warm complexion. Both women carried themselves with the same coiled readiness, hands resting near the grips of their sidearms, gazes sweeping in perfect tandem. They did not speak. They did not need to. Their presence alone declared that anyone who wished to reach Ayumi would first have to pass through them. Ayumi took one more step into the light, the aurodium embroidery on her robes flaring briefly like captured starlight, and offered the room her calm, sweet half-smile. She listened to the petition with a nod. Alderaan hosted wine, women and songs... well worth admission and had strong leaders.

 

[Duncan Avaron]

Liana Organa Gram Arranda Ayumi Pallopides
​

Duncan Avaron remained silent as the exchange concluded, his posture composed but alert, the way it always was when he was weighing more than just the words being spoken. He listened attentively, eyes tracking the chamber rather than resting solely on Gram, taking in the reactions of the delegates, the subtle shifts of expression that betrayed concern, interest, or calculation. Alderaan's history was not lost on him. It never was. Its reputation as a moral compass in darker eras was embedded in the Republic's collective memory, taught alongside the earliest lessons of galactic governance.

When Duncan finally spoke, his voice was calm and measured, carrying easily without the need for force.

"None in this chamber doubt what the world has stood for, nor what it has endured in the past."

His gaze returned to Gram, sharp, pleasant, openly curious.

"What I am interested in understanding," Duncan continued, "Is the nature of the threat you are facing now. What pressures are currently being applied to Alderaan that compel this request at this moment?"

He inclined his head slightly, hands clasped before him.

"Has the Sith Covenant made direct overtures toward your planet? Have threats been issued, agents sighted, or influence exerted through intermediaries? Or are we looking at a strategic assessment, a fear of what is coming rather than what has already arrived?"

The question hung deliberately in the air. Not a challenge, but an invitation to clarity.

"The distinction matters," Duncan added, his tone steady. "Because the Republic must understand whether Alderaan is responding to immediate danger or seeking to prevent one. Both are valid. But they demand different commitments."

He fell quiet again, watchful as ever, giving Gram the space to answer while the chamber waited with him.