Emryc Thorne, long before he was ever a Sith Lord, long before he was ever President of the ISC, long before the ISC ever existed, was a nobody. He was a skinny, 18-year-old half Sephi that hovered just around 5’10 instead of his future massive 6’5 frame. Emryc Thorne had dirty blond hair down to his shoulders and delicate features. However, the icy silver eyes were exactly the same as they would be in the future.
18-year-old Thorne was a Sith apprentice, not yet a Marauder and virtually unknown. As a result, he was dirt poor and made bits of cash by smuggling spice, DJing in the underground scene of Nar Shaddaa or by driving around customers. He had been saving up for some time to score these tickets, and of course he could only afford the nosebleeds very far away from the action. This was one of the biggest rivalry games and he was fortunate to even snag these shitty tickets.
It took him a long while to hike up to the sections and he had to evade multiple attempts at being mugged on his way in. The half Sephi was wearing a Ryloth Rancors jersey and his face was painted in the brilliant team colors with an R on each cheek.
He was almost there when he was stuck behind a grumpy Gamorrean. The crowds were rougher here and he attempted to squeeze past, promptly caught between the side of the stairs and the Gamorrean’s rear.
“Come on man!” Emryc shouted as he pushed against the large fan futilely.