In the dimly lit corners of his lavish yet sinister office, Tar Llodem broods over a grand, complex map of Cleveland sprawled across his ancient oak desk. His fingers trace the lines and landmarks, not with admiration or nostalgia but with a predatory intent. He mutters to himself, articulating a web of deceit and strategy designed to unravel the very fabric that binds the Snworb to its beloved city.

"The people," he sneers with contempt, "so naive in their collective ownership, basking in the glory of their team, oblivious to the storm that brews on their horizon. They see me as a defeated foe, a relic of a bygone era. But little do they realize, within this chessboard of urban sprawl and passionate fandom, I've planted seeds of discord, agents of chaos ready to stir the pot of unrest."

Llodem's eyes glint with malice as he envisions the chain reaction of scandals, legal battles, and public relations nightmares he plans to unleash. "They rallied when I tried to take their team before, but this time, I will strike at their heart, exploiting their fears, their doubts, and their insecurities. The Snworb, a symbol of their identity, their pride, will become an instrument of their division."

He leans back, fingers tented, as a sinister smile creeps across his face. "Patience and precision," he whispers to the shadows. "The art of war isn't won on the battlefield but in the minds of your opponents. I will make them question their trust, erode their unity, and watch as they unwittingly hand over the reins to me."

In this moment, Tar Llodem is not just a man but an embodiment of vengeance and ambition, a dark architect plotting the downfall of a city's cherished legacy. He knows the battle ahead will be fraught with resistance, but the thought of victory, of finally controlling the Snworb, fuels his resolve.

"As the Snworb once rose from the ashes of adversity, so shall I," he declares to the empty room, his voice echoing off the walls like a malevolent promise. "And when the dust settles, it will be I, Tar Llodem, who will shape their destiny, bending the will of a city to my own. The Snworb will be mine, and with them, the key to my ultimate triumph."

Advance Regress