Creation

-prologue

Varryn didn't remember his death. There were vague flashes, fragmented memories of a previous life, but nothing substantial and most certainly nothing useful. What Varryn did remember, vividly, was his second creation. In what he later learned was a powerful force ritual, his soul had been dragged across time and space, pulled from the veil of the living force to possess a bioengineered vessel created by the Emperor. In one universe, Sheev Palpatine had lost interest in the genetic tampering his Master dabbled in. In this universe he has delved far, far deeper.

Making use of Kamino cloning knowledge and Bith genetic engineering, Palpatine had tailored his DNA to create a Vessel, one with an extremely potent connection to the force by making use of an ancient ritual to bind a soul.

Varryn had been ostensibly pulled from undeath to be a placeholder until Palpatine himself could possess the 'more perfect' younger container. Though even in his earliest moments Varryn had know there was an error in Palpatine's plan, the fact that a clone already had a soul. Two egos in one body, two connections to the force, and 1 of those egos had the accumulated knowledge of someone who had lived a long former life.

He had not been the first attempt, he later learned. Presumably the souls would usually devour each other, a single host not capable of supporting two. But Varryn's soul had been cunning, residing deep within the force, acting only as an observer.

Varryn had observed his own body from the outside for 18 years, watching the host be developed by Palpatine into his future weapon and body. The host, as he had no other way to think of it, had delved deep into the dark side of the force, allowing Varryn to slowly creep in and take control as the weaker soul began to fracture. He lent his power and connection to the force during the darkest moment, letting the host suffocate in the power it wasn't built to handle. On the host's 18th birthday, he had taken control, ripping the damaged soul to shreds in mere moments. Two souls became one, their resources combined, and Varryn had become…alive, one mind, body, and soul.

——-

6 bby- Awakening

Varryn's reeled as he took stock of his surroundings. He was in his bedroom, a large, mostly grey master with a bed that could easily fit 4 people and a modest connected bathroom. The room was almost perfectly square with 400 square feet of space, far too much in his opinion, dominated by a plush carpet and luxurious furniture. There was a finely crafted desk and office area in one corner, with the opposite corner being a small reading area. It was a needless gaudy space, and even though he couldn't remember his past life, he still felt sickened by the…waste on display.

On a large bed stand next to him, two lightsabers were elegantly displayed, loosely placed on specialty stands so that he might still summon them in an emergency. The walls were mounted with shelves holding various artifacts and gifts from his creator, whom he refused to seriously call his father regardless of theoretical blood relation.

"God I feel like a prick.", Varryn grumbled.

Even as an observer, he could only see parts of the host's life, his soul having to remain suppressed for its own safety. Because of that, he remembered nearly nothing after the host had been taught mental shielding.

Sliding out of bed, he walked towards a closet, noticing a wide array of outfits and, somewhat amusingly, armor. A basic sifting of the host's memories told Varryn that the armor had never been used.

Palpatine had wants his future host trained, immersed in the force, but not a threat to his rule. Varryn figured Palpatine couldn't retain the same direct control over him like Palpatine could his hands.

He dressed himself in a Cortosis weave armor and stalked out, walking over to retrieve the lightsabers. Reaching the night stand, he stared down at the blades.

Beautiful and impractical, they were made of expensive electrum and silver, both curved far beyond practicality. Their very presence hummed with the dark side.

"Sickening.", Varryn muttered, pinning them to a utility belt around his waist.

Varryn about jumped when a gentle knock sounded on his door. Tentatively, he answered, "Come in?"

Whoever knocked sent a wave of confusion through the force, but gently took the handle.

'Not something the host did. Damnit.'

A young woman opened the door and peered in, "Mi'lord, we have a visitor from the village…I-I hate to wake you up but he said it was important-"

"You we're right to grab me. Thank you-", Varryn searched the host's memories, "-Be'dha."

She seemed taken aback.

"…is there something wrong?", he asked, genuinely curious. Be'dha's eyes went wide and she stammered, "I hadn't known you knew my n-name mi'lord."

She reeked of fear. The host had not been a kind man. Varryn grimaced.

"I must apologize then. It was not my intent to make my staff feel like I knew nothing of them."

Technically that wasn't a lie, the host hadn't thought of them at all, so he couldn't have any intents towards them.

Bed'ha was just silent for a moment, then scurried down the hall, retreating from the unexpected situation after a quiet 'yes mi'lord'.

Sifting through his memories more, since he supposed they belonged to him now and he should stop thinking of them as 'the host's', he created a picture for himself.

He resided on Cazadore 5, a minor world bordering wild space. The world mostly served as an agricultural center, with limited access to the wider galaxy. There was a single spaceport and a few minor settlements across the planet. Varryn served as the Imperial governor of the world, and what the locals called the village was closer to a small city serving as the capital of the world. He lived in a large manse several kilometers out from the city, on a beautiful property spanning around 1200 Acres of forest, being right at the boundary at which the forests gave way to gargantuan plains that the village sat upon. He'd been governor for around 4 months and had been an almost entirely inactive ruler, signing what he needed to sign to return to his study of the dark side. The host had truly been a fool.

He strode out of his bedroom down the elegant halls of the manse, using his precious little knowledge of the force, based solely on observation and a sort of 'muscle memory', to detect various presences' within the property. Working through his memory he recalled his way to a meeting room, knowing it was standard practice to entertain emissaries of the village within it.

He opened the door to see an elderly man with a jovial expression, dutifully listening to a young woman in front of him. His mind registered her as his local liaison for the planet, her name was Sable. He didn't know a last name but it wasn't customary to call someone by a last name on the planet, the culture being centered on the individual.

"Good morning. I was told you wished to speak with me sir."

The man had noticed his entry but Sable had not, and she froze at his voice.

The man stared at him with a hint of…judgement and veiled aggression.

"Yes…Lord Varryn. I'm councilman Armand, Sable here's father. I came to speak to you about the upcoming harvest festival…with a couple concerns." Sable seemed to be anxious as the man, her father, spoke. She believed, from the bottom of her heart, that her father should not have come today. Varryn needed to know why very quickly.

"Your concerns are my concerns, Councilman. Are there issues regarding the planning?", Armand seemed a little out off by his open response, suspicion radiating from him.

"As you may or may not know, the harvest this year has been…middling-"

Varryn turned to Sable, "-I did not know."

The man froze, and for the first time a bit of fear crept into his mind, knowing he might have just put his daughter in an unenviable position.

"It didn't seem…prudent, to inform you my lord."

Varryn stared at his liaison. She had long hair with a color befitting her name, a brown so deep it was almost black. Her eyes were a mixture of green and brown, and her features were generally average, pale skin dotted with freckles across her nose and below her eyes. Though cute enough, she was a woman who's features did not even slightly match the pull she had on those around her, something the average man or woman might have perceived as a strong charisma, but Varryn, or at least the host, had understood as something else. The something extra that made her so uneasy around him. Her deep, powerful connection to the force.

"I may not be overly attentive, Miss Sable, but I don't like to overlook a problem the people I am entrusted to lord over are facing", he turned back to Armand, "the harvest hasn't been ideal this year?"

Cautiously, the man continued, "…there was a bug that spread through much of the crop, we still haven't completely eliminated it, and the council doesn't believe we will have enough to hold the festival this year and still make it though the winter months. We were hoping we might receive a loan for a food shipment so that we might have a decent festival without cutting into our winter reserve, if we can even have the thing at all."

Varryn stared for a moment. "How much does the festival generally cost each year?"

"Uh-60 to 70 thousand credits, my lord", he responded quickly, a clear sign he knew the value of providing information without question.

"Nonsense about a loan, I'll just pay for the thing. I can make more money during the time it would take for us to arrange a loan than I would make from any agreement we made, there's no reason to waste both of our valuable time figuring out a concern so easily solved." That wasn't true but they didn't need to know that.

To say that his words were the last thing either of the father-daughter pair expected to hear was an understatement. But they had been said and Armand certainly wasn't going to leave room for him to take them back.

"Well splendid, I'll inform the council. Will you be appearing?"

"Most likely. I've been busy these lasts months and haven't done my duty to the populace, I'd do well to be there. Would you like to stay for a meal?"

Sable was very, very unnerved, which gave some unfortunate insight into how the host had been.

"I don't suppose I'm in a hurry to leave."

Excellent. Now Varryn could figure out many…many things regarding his situation.