CONTEST: Heroes, Villains, Mooks, Crooks, and Comic Relief!

The rules of this contest are simple.

Post a short description of a character (1 paragraph) and a short background.

Anything goes, as long as it's Star Wars.

You may post as many characters are you like. Characters we like, we'll use as NPCs or make available for use as PCs. (No, we won't have pregen characters by default; but if a character from this contest captures your imagination, you might want to play it!)

This is your chance to influence our vision, or to influence other players' vision. Sell the kind of characters you want to see and interact with. This is your opportunity to shape how others play, who they play, what they play.

I'll start.

Darth Raive

With the end of the Great War in 160 NR, the Republic's military apparatus retooled for the era of peace. The Jedi Scouts were established in 162 NR to scout out the unknown regions of the Galaxy and re-investigate the Outer Rim. In 188 NR, Elgon Kokuun of the Jedi Order commissioned a young Jedi named Alaris Raive to complete a survey of the Old Black Imperium region.

All who knew Alaris Raive said that one thing defined him: his energy. Keen-eyed, inquisitive, with a roaming, wild curiosity that encompassed everything and a neat, orderly mind that crisply categorized his findings, Alaris Raive seemed the ideal person to sail into the uncharted parts of the galaxy and map them out. For six years, Alaris Raive was the toast of the Galactic Cartography Guild and the pride of the Jedi Order. Then, in 185 NR, he vanished on a mission to investigate the Paxo System, which was devastated in the early Galactic Empire period and was rumored to contain lost caches of Clone War-era weapons. His last transmission reported, 'Have concluded Pax Sector inspection, am investigating anomalous star cluster.' The missions sent to find him discovered nothing, not even a trace of a trace. No one has heard from him in the fourteen years since, and he is presumed dead.

Alaris Raive was slender as a whip, with dark, mobile eyes, a shock of black hair, and a gaunt, hollow-cheeked face. But his hollow face was no death's head. Whenever that bony face seemed in danger of lapsing into gloom, a sudden toothy grin would light it up, and Alaris Raive's green eyes would crinkle at the corners with glee. Few other Jedi past or present took as much childish pleasure in playing practical jokes or giving gag gifts.

Yevgraf

Yevgraf is a human male. He is tall and spare. He has thinning grey hair and smooth cheeks and a long nose above thin lips. Though not at all patrician looking, his bearing is one of command. He wears a olive colored uniform. The tunic is double-breasted and has a raised collar. The trousers are riding-style. Black boots, polished to perfection, come to just below the knee. The uniform is completed by a brown leather Sam Brown belt with a blaster holster worn on the left for a cross draw.

Yevgraf is one of those beings who makea an empire work. He enjoys the privileges of his high rank in the system, but seeks neither fame nor fortune, only a job well done. And his job is important to any empire that wishes to survive. He is a 'policeman' who has built his career on the deaths of countless beings and the imprisonment of countless more.

R3-P2

Desc: The passage of time has seemed to have affected this former R3 unit greatly, though the droid is such a mish mash of parts it’s hard to give it any particular classification now. Best described as a trash can with a cone shaped head, this droid features a half track half wheeled motive system as well as a single clawed arm on its tracked side. Various multicolored panels cover the front half of the droid while a pair of small thrusters occupies the majority of its back half. While most droids feature one main optical system, P2 has two, one that glows faintly blue while the other on the backside of its dome has a tinge of red to the lens. As the droid moves about there's usually a clatter of its ill fitting tread and the smell of hot circuitry in the air.

Back-story: P2 is a former R3 unit whose original owner has been long lost to the passage of time. P2 used to act and be compliant like most droids up until the last fifty years. At that time a Twi’lek tinkerer installed a second hard drive in the droid in order to increase its memory. While this did increase its memory, the two drives had instantly conflicting programming creating a two personality droid, one mind curiously passive while the other curiously aggressive. With the aggressive side seeking independence to the point of harming sentient life, P2 has been able to go as it pleases without being memory wiped or restraining bolted. Its curious side has led to travel many planets of the galaxy, gathering geographical, geological, and cultural information of all. P2 is valuable to anyone who takes it under their wing, but it’s more like P2 has taken the 'owner' under its wing and woe to anyone who pushes P2's buttons.

Video Montage (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6svf0MZo2RA&feature=related): R3-P2, rumbling across the landscape as the terrain slowly morphs from the deserts of Tatooine, to the jungles of Kashyyyk, to golden rolling plains, to the inside of a cave, onto the streets of Coruscant where people hustle by, to winding its way between massive lunar boulders. The camera goes dark and the next scene is of P2 releasing a bolt of electricity at an unseen target, then a shot of its lens projecting a map of some location to a group of heroes who bend beside the projection and point out various things on the map. Then there is a shot of P2 taking to the air on its thrusters as laser bolts fly all around it. A building beneath P2 explodes in a clout of fire, the droid disappearing within the flames. A moment later P2 erupts from the fireball, singed, but none the worse for wear. A pair of doors on its front open up and a missile erupts from within flying out and exploding off screen. The final shot is of P2 with a graduating cap on its dome, tassel fluttering in the wind as it looks out across a huge valley high atop a bluff, twin suns setting simultaneously over the horizon.

Cid

Desc: This tall, handsome young human wears his blonde hair long and disheveled with a sparse goatee growing at the end of his strong jaw and chiseled marble features. Cid usually has a cig tucked between his lips though it’s more often unlit than not. The spacer wears a long sleeved tan turtleneck, over which rests a relaxed long green spacer's coat with a multitude of pockets. Dark brown pants with gold piping contrast against the jacket while tightly laced and triple knotted (for good luck!) combat boots cover his big feet. A thick leather belt hangs at a rakish angle over his hips. On the lower right side a blaster is suspended, resting comfortably in its holster. Flight goggles are worn up over his head while a single gold stud pierces Cid's right ear.

Back-story: Cid grew up on a mining colony, learning to pilot varying craft from a young age, showing a natural talent at the controls to any vehicle. When he was old enough he left to make a name for himself by flying anything he could get his hands on, pushing every machine to its limits, breaking many but never breaking himself. Cid has attempted all the most dangerous hyperspace routes and flown multiple asteroid belts simply for the high of being in a life threatening situation. Always looking for the next high, Cid doesn't take orders too well when they cramp his style and has quite an ego which is easily bruised when anyone refutes his tales of edge of the seat flying. A pilot for the highest bidder, Cid seemingly shows no allegiances though some whisper that he had a hand in the destruction of a Sith gunship to protect a Republic medical transport.

Video Montage (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GusLypfx7OQ): Cid at the controls of a freighter as it corkscrews straight downward through a planetary blockade, explosions and turbolaser fire erupting all around him. Sweat is on his brow and he has a fierce, almost devilish look in his eyes as the others in the cockpit cling on for dear life. The screen morphs into a shot of Cid's ship slipping between a pair of massive asteroids seconds before they slam together and send out a shower of smaller pieces. The next shot is of Cid sitting atop a black and yellow caution striped crate, a cig hanging out of one corner of his lips as his hands mix a deck of Sabaac cards by shuffling them through the air upwards, then downwards. He looks quite smug before a rapid morph to Cid leaping through the air in slow motion, blaster pistols in both hands as he fires off rapid shots at an unseen enemy. Then to a shot to Cid pointing in a direction, yelling something, then an explosion, Cid flying backwards through the air and over a landing platform's edge. He catches hold of a landing light at the last second while his cig falls from his lips. He looks down to see it disappear amongst the buildings far below. Then with great exertion he pulls himself up with one arm while his other raises a blaster and shoots out the camera in a red flash of light!

Chop

Desc: This middle aged, well toned Zabrak carries himself with the weight of the world pressed upon his shoulders and grooved into his face. While not particularly tall he moves with an authority that makes him seem much taller, his golden eyes deeply reading those of others. His skin has been bronzed by years exposed to the sun, while his hands show many calluses from hard labor and a multitude of small cuts caused by the kitchen knife. The ring of horns that cover his bald head are beginning to show a slight yellowing of age. Chop wears a pair of tan medical fatigues with red crosses at each bicep. The long sleeves of the shirt have been rolled up to reveal his bounteous muscles.

Back-story: Supposedly beans and rice is what keeps an army on the move, but there's certainly more to life than that. What would life be without the colors and tastes that can erupt when the right ingredients are mingled at the correct temperature? Perhaps Chop's fascination with the edible stems from a childhood growing up on the impoverished streets of Kaut, scrimping and fighting for each meal, never knowing when the next bite would come. While such a childhood would have hardened many, it simply made Chop more empathetic for others who shared a similar plight. During an attempt at stealing spices from a restaurant Chop's culinary prowess was noted and eventually refined by the kitchen's master chef, Stir. Stir raised Chop as his own son throughout his adolescence until he was murdered by the Sith for refusing to poison a politician's food during an arranged dinner. The Sith even went as far as to burn down Stir's renowned restaurant, again leaving Chop homeless. Vowing revenge Chop joined the Republic army as a medic. He dreams of the day when there is peace in his heart and he can open a restaurant of his own.

Video Montage (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G29Cz5oxA3A): A shot of Chop placing the finishing touch of icing from a squeeze bag on top of a massive wedding cake. He stands back to admire his work and raises his hands to his lips and makes a smacking motion to show his satisfaction. The scene fades and returns with a charred battle ground with burnt out trees and craters. There's a huge explosion that throws several Republic infantry into the air. One solider tumbles across the ground missing an arm and a dirty and exhausted looking Chop dressed in medical fatigues falls by his side, comforting the dying man as he breathes his last breath. The screen goes black and returns with a flash of bright warm light as Chop stands along a receiving line just beneath a golden throne as the queen welcomes in a trio of heroes to a thunderous applause. Chop is smiling and as the trio approaches he smiles and winks at them. The center hero catches this and nods his appreciation. Another shot of Chop who holds a pair of pans in each hand and flips one into the air before spinning about and catching it, then beating it down upon a grill where it erupts in a flash of alcohol fire. A shot to Chop standing at the ready as the doors to his restaurant are opened for the evening. Crowds of laughing and smiling people come in and the Zabrak beams as he slowly dons his chef's hat while the video fades to black.

Venom

Desc: This tall and slender midnight blue Twi'lek moves with a dancer's grace, almost silent with every step. She wears a sly expression upon her ample lips, while her crimson red eyes seem out of place, the iris cat like in appearance. Her lithe body is quite voluptuous, while long slender legs carry her in heavily accentuated swagger. She wears a black sleeveless half length empire waist dress that tucks up under the breasts to make her legs appear even longer, the skirt ending mid thigh. Matching tights on her lower half reveal how thin her limbs are before tucking into a pair of Pointe shoes. Dark blue ribbons wrap from the shoes half way up her shins, securing them. Along the outside of her arms it appears that Venom has small patches of midnight blue serpent scales that glisten in the light while each fingernail is hardened into stunted three centimeter hooked claw.

Back-story: At a young age Venom was sold into captivity by her own kind and taken far from Ryloth. She bounced from one sleazy crime lord to the next, serving food and drink until she was old enough to perform. She tried to refuse to dance and act lascivious but her masters beat her with a whip until they finally broke her spirit. While still a teenager, Venom's last master was executed when he attempted to double cross a Sith lord. The lord found Venom to be an adequate distraction and took her with him. After some time he realized she could be more. Taking her broken spirit, he replaced it through his tutelage with a wrathful, vindictive one. Through time Venom became a highly accomplished acrobatic, martial arts assassin. Her budding skill in the Force gives her superhuman leaping and tumbling abilities. Choosing to strike through her fists has caught many off guard, and by using others pressure points she can render paralysis in seconds. Exposure to the lord's Sith alchemy has severely warped Venom, causing her to grow a pair of fangs by which she can deliver poison to those within biting range. Furthermore her spine is exceptionally flexible like a serpent allowing her to severely contort her body while patches of her skin are covered in reptile scales, providing some minor protection.

Video Montage - (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ej_pvO96-z0): The shot opens at night with Venom dropping two stories from a balcony and landing gracefully as a cat right behind her target. There's a flash of a crooked blade and a shadow drops in the night. Venom smiles and she whips her head tails about, slipping away nonchalantly. The shot morphs to Venom squatting in a fighting position surrounded by three Jedi with ignited lightsabers. They charge simultaneously but she bounds effortlessly into the sky, somersaulting into a back flip. Her feet hit the trunk of a nearby tree and she rockets back downwards, slamming right into a Jedi and throwing them backwards. Venom cartwheels and round offs between the other two Jedi's blades effortlessly with a playful smile. Next is a shot to the Twi'lek contorting herself about a man with a seductive smile that shows her fangs. Then a morph to a man's pained shock as the solider takes a fist right in the stomach. A flash to the Twi'lek wagging her index finger then balling it into a fist that uppercuts a gun wielding Rodian. The shot then morphs to a shirtless Venom with her back to the camera, showing her whip scars and body scales. Slow melt to nighttime with rain pouring down. A man lays face down in a street, the Twi'lek standing over him in dark cloak. She turns away, reaching up to pull the hood over her face as the approaches a lamppost. The camera pans back and as Venom steps behind the post, hood now up, she fades from sight.

Jaina Sarrow -- known as Jaina Sparrow.

Just like her namesake this 55-year old woman is petite and slender, almost fragile-looking. But what she lacks in physical presence she makes up for in a clipped voice, swift movements, and a seemingly perpetual energy the size of a super nova.

Many years of service in the Republic military as a doctor has given her a steady rise through the ranks. She is extremely opinionated when on her own turf, but being a professional she would never dream of challenging the orders of a ranking officer.

Her greying hair, turning almost white, is kept proudly undyed. She wears a uniform with a blaster strapped to one side... rumour has it that her skill with the weapon is almost as fine as that with her medical equipment.

If she has any major flaw it would be her love for Sabbac; a game that can make her use her usual cool and subject her fellow players to a verbal overhaul.

She is kind, though most people wouldn't notice it -- she keeps /that/ part of her person carefully reserved for her private life. Her marriage to a Republic military expert navigator has given her three children, who have long since moved away from home to pursue their own careers.

Alice Tol Kashar

From the ashes of the War of the Sith Succession, Kashar Technologies was born. Hardin Kashar, the founder of the combine, rose high in the service of the new Prince of the Sith. It was he who designed first the Cobra fighter, then the Gorgon scoutship, and finally the advanced Basilisk. Hardin had three children: Brandin, Qames, and Alice.

Brandin was always groomed to be the heir of KashTech, and was his father's constant companion on hunts in the Abyssin badlands. But brooding, scheming Qames, who was always ravenously ambitious, plotted otherwise. Forging a secret alliance with Alice, he rewired the Kashar Estate security system, and the next time Hardin came in from a hunting trip to the badlands, the security lasers cut him down.

With Alice's help, Qames framed Brandin for the murder, promising generous bribes to the estate servants to secure testimony that would prove Brandin's guilt. Brandin was sentenced to fifty rounds in the Great Arena. It was now that Alice showed her two-faced nature. She secretly gave the condemned Brandin an arsenal advanced KashTech weapon systems, including an experimental poison lanvarok and a prototype disruptor pike. Armed with superior weaponry and a hunter's skills, Brandin won his fifty fights, slaughtering countless foes. Finally, he was ushered before the Prince, who, with a strange, empty smile, asked him what reward he desired. 'Revenge,' said Brandin, and the Prince smiled again.

A duel was arranged. Armed with KashTech prototypes of his own, Qames mortally wounded Brandin within five minutes, but was himself near-fatally wounded. Alice vowed to supervise his convalescence and tenderly nurse him to health. Tragically, Qames did not recover. Possibly this had something to do with the KashTech 'special medicine' that Alice synthesized.

Her brothers out of the way, Alice took her place at the head of the KashTech empire. She is known as one of the most powerful and cruel nobles of the Sith Empire.

----------

Short and compact, Alice Tol Kashar has a sinuous way of moving which suggests physical power. Her eyes are tawny; her hair ranges in color from tawny to brown, but in places has begun to streak with grey. But if her hair is frosted with grey, her skin is smooth and firm, giving her a curiously ageless, ambiguous appearance. She is seldom seen without a cigar, but she does not light or smoke, only chews absently, or, when tense or irritable, savages her cigar with her teeth.

Comic relief, you say?

Mama Rugga

Generously endowed in every proportion, this Gamorrean sow mother of 'too many to count' is a testament of true beauty in her species. She keeps her tusks polished, her eyelids and lips slathered in greasy pigment that complements her greenish skin, and her dark hair curled and freed to frame her round face. Impressive, how she manages to confine her massive girth in the finest of silks and cottons.


Rugga inherited her mother's position as a sow matron of her clan, being both beautiful and shrewd in mercantile dealings. Troubadours sang sonnets of her fertile hips, as she birthed one after another healthy child with a series of husbands. Be it boredom or aspirations unknown to others, she surrendered her clan council seat to a sister and left her family and planet behind for an adventurous career in modeling and acting. Rumors say she strong-armed more than a few females of various species who happened to have been her competition for a role.

Appearing on several popular holodramas, she now lives comfortably on Vasatissa in a life of luxury and status. Recently, she's been seen having an on-and-off relationship with a Gamorrean bodybuilder, who some claim is also the father of her fourteenth daughter. Rugga also furiously denies any augmentation surgery on any of her sizable assets.

Why so serious?


Fineus Lex

A balding, pasty lump of humanity, pouchy around the middle, Fineus is a man of limited mobility and little apparent grace. What little hair he has is slicked back against a sweaty scalp; his features are swollen, from cheeks to nose, both reddened by perpetual flush. Once vibrant, his blue eyes are hollow and sunken deep into the sockets, staring ahead without direction. Those cursed with a sense of smell will find the odor of rank flatulence and cheap whiskey clinging to him like second skin.

---

"Fineus had a career, once," a grizzled barkeep in a slummy cantina would say. "Graduating near the top of his class from the naval academy, a handsome youth, marrying a classy broad from a wealthy family; he had the life we always wanted. Rumors have it he was a top candidate for the Rogue Squadron, a star pilot in simulations. But look at him now, half asleep over his Bantha piss."

The 'tender spits, phlegm sticky and black, like the air here in the slums of Coruscant. "Had a bit of a gambling problem, that one. Started small, then, like it happens with some, spiraled out of control. Then he took to drinking, when his wifey didn't like the debts. He'd spend more time in the cantinas than at home. So, she left. Took the kids - nice-looking boys, seen the holopics, you know. Smart lady. Well, he shows up trashed to his piloting aptitude test, and they toss him out faster than Old Mo does with the troublemakers." He jerks a webbed thumb to a hulking Abyssan at the door.

"Now he spends his time here, stinkin' up the place," the old Mon Calamari with the one glassy eye finishes, sliding a drink along the bar surface. "And soon, you will too. I know your type. You're all the same."

And, as a followup:

Quirn Nathril


With many prominent barbels and a stooped back to define his advanced age, Quirn is rather frail and short for a member of his amphibious species. His pink skin is mottled white and dark crimson and clings tightly to the bones just beneath it. Prominent and domed, the fishlike head also bears a number of scars, blaster and blade. A grotesque burn scar stretches from his forehead across to the left cheek, through and around the left eye. It, unlike its yellow twin, is an opaque white, with a glassy texture. The Mon Calamari doesn't show any apparent visual disability, but does tilt his head just a little during conversations.

---

Most know Quirn Nathril as a grizzled barkeep of the Lame Sarlac, a cheap dive in the heart of Coruscant's undercity ruins who must have been there long before most of his patrons were even born, and will die long after (if he had his way).

The rule of the Sith had not been kind to his people, many were killed or enslaved. His own family managed to escape their homeworld and lived as refugees in the old core of Coruscant, hidden under miles of durasteel and rubble. As a child, Quirn learned to keep his head low and out of trouble, getting by on wits.

Sometime in his teens, his family joined the Rebel Alliance. The Sarlac had been a meeting point for rebels, until a Sith raid on the cantina took many by surprise. Quirn lost his parents and the sight in his left eye that day.

While he does not speak much of what happened afterwards, Quirn would become a key figure in the criminal underworld of Coruscant as he grew older, serving as the right hand of the Grunga the Hutt, Coruscant's main procurer of items of questionable legality. Grunga valued the Mon Calamari's sharp mind and familiarity with the local black markets. The Sarlac soon became a critical hub of criminal dealings and information trafficking. The old timers will tell you that nothing happens on Coruscant without Quirn hearing about it.

Betta Sweet

Desc:
This Quarren is a rather tall example of his race, strong and well built, and skin a fading sundown of orange. One of the few signs of his older age is present in form of mottled yellow and red scattered across his head, tentacles, and three-fingered hands. The other is his stride, slow and with a purpose only gained through years of arrogant practice. Cerulean eyes retain a glimmering sureness to them, despite all this. His choice of dress is a so called 'zoot suit', a rich midnight blue in color. Small pinstripes of black streak the cloth, while the solid black dress shirt underneath is accented by a tie of lighter blue. Perfectly polished, black dress shoes cover his feet, while a wide-brimmed fedora tops his head.

Backstory:
The almost perfect, underhanded gentleman. Captain Betta Sweet is well aware of the play on words his name represents, and plays that bit to its fullest. At the age of forty-eight, he's seen quite a bit for his time, and out of everything else, time seems the only thing he keeps quiet about. If he's ever gone by any other name, none of the bartenders who have served him for years know it; none of the ladies that have ever been called his sweetheart have considered it. All they know is the Captain has been flying freighters for nearly 30 years.

And over those three decades, he has been known for two things: his ladies, and his ship, the Kismias Riot -- one of the most thrown together freighters anyone might come across. But if something needs transporting, he'll take the job, be it smuggling, legal, or pirate. Rumor has it, though, that he has removed himself from the business sector, opting instead to retire in true smooth style with a young Mon Cal lady. The Kismias Riot, though grounded along an unknown coastline as a makeshift home, may still be ready to fly at a moment's notice for the right price.

Calfirn Molon

Desc:

This Mon Calamari has salmond-colored skin mottled with dark purple splotches. He has large and bulbous, fishy eyes and a large number of barbel-like protrusions coming from his chin. His neck is filled with many extra folds of skin, giving it a very fat appearance, even by the standard of Mon Calamari necks, though the rest of his body is not obese, strangely enough. He has some sort of fungus-like skin infection just above his right eye, giving the skin there a speckled red color.

Backstory:

Calfirn Molon is a dishonored Mon Calamari. Rejected by his own family for washing out of the Republic Navy as a spawnling, he lacks any sort of skill tactically or with ships...which does not endear him to his people's sensibilities. The irony is he is perhaps more obsessed with ships then most Mon Calamari, and knows almost everything about any class of ship built in the past 6000 years....just not how to use them. An outcast, he made his way (voluntarily) to Coruscant, where for many long years he has made a living scavenging the scraps of ancient societies and digging up bits of engineering history. He's made a bit of a name for himself in certain academic circles because of this; he's managed to become one of the foremost experts on the archaeology of ancient ships. He's also an extremely skilled computer hacker, and is more then willing to give his historical, engineering, or computer expertise to anyone who can manage to figure out where he is on Coruscant at any given time. Paying him is another matter entirely...he doesn't care for cash or information, instead only wanting items of 'historical interest.'

Avari Renci

Description:
Frail, pale, and grimy, with cold grey eyes and clever fingers, the girl before you is clad in an odd mishmash of clothes from every style and location, most of them tattered and dirty beyond compare. Her hair is dark, short, and greasy. Were it not for the strangely regal bearing and the imperious gaze, she would be easy to dismiss as another of Coruscant's many urchins.

Background:
She claims to be the heiress to an ancient family of Coruscant's gentry, and who is there left on this forsaken planet to argue? She has amassed a certain amount of power, at any rate, and she calls the planet home. Her followers know her as the Scavenger Queen, though in truth her business is more than scavenging--robbery, theft, extortion round out her income. Those who drift into her territory find that she rules it as an absolute monarch, though those who please her find that she is a kind ruler and claim that it is easier, and better, under her thumb. She ever seeks to expand her influence over the rest of the world. Whether she has paid any thought to life off-world is uncertain.

Name: Three-Rancor

Quote: Its me Galaxy! Rar-rar, your ruler! Oh, wait...thats that asswipe Sith Prince. Dadada! Its time for...the NEWS!

Description: This is a tall human male with dark black skin, short buzz-shaved hair and a small goatee set just on the bottom of his chin. He has a lean, wiry look about him and is constantly moving - even when sitting still - as if he has a constant case of the jitters. The logo of the Restored Republic is tattooed on his right shoulder.


Bio: Three-Rancor (alias - real name unknown) is a die-hard patriot in the truest sense of the word. He has dedicated his entire life to supporting human rights campaigns across the galaxy - even before the invasion of the Sith Empire. His father comes from a long line of GNN reporters - dating back almost a thousand years, and his mother's family comes from a long line of Republic/Resistance/Old Republic fighter-pilots. The first thing he did when the Sith Empire invaded was use some of those family contacts to set up an 'underground' branch of GNN, free from any sort of censorship.

He calls himself the 'Voice of the Republic' - and though he may be a self-appointed voice, he does his best to live up to that motto. He's constantly broadcasting the 'truth' as to the various atrocities committed by the Sith, pointing out the worst of the worst, and lauding the greatest heroes of the Republic for all the little-guys to hear and see. The Sith would love nothing more then to see him dead, and the Bounty-Hunters guild would love to get their hands on him too. But so far noone's actually ever seen him...just heard him, and noone's managed to figure out where he's broadcasting from, just where he's been. Chances are if someone does something particularly horrendous or extremely self-sacrificing, he'll make sure /everyone/ knows.