Umberthar Spildo, one of the mayors of Galepath in the fourth century, was the eighteenth member of his family to hold the highest office. He made his mark in history as surely the weakest and least effective of that long line of Spildos. Towards the close of the century, Umberthar was described as a short, round man. What little hair he had lay hidden, nested behind his absurdly immense, flapping ears. While sitting, his obscenely chubby arms rested on a strong wooden chair like two dying whales on a dry beach, and his legs could barely be seen under the shadow of his stomach’s immense bulk.

Upon his initial election, he had insisted on complete control of all city administrative affairs, proceeding to single-handedly create the worst series of tactical blunders imaginable. Mistaking a royal seal of King Zylon for the stamp from the Fishmonger’s Guild, he summarily revoked the baffled king’s right to go fishing anywhere within two hundred bloits of Galepath. Greatly overestimating his own popularity, he spent millions of zorkmids from the city treasury to cordon off Bittut Avenue and organize festivities for a massive parade and rally in his honor. No one came. Mathematics never having been one of the mayor’s strong suits, he soon proceeded to do some erroneous number crunching, arriving at the conclusion that all his citizens should give up 124% of their annual income to the city tax coffers. Of course this presented no problem to the Galepath natives, who, intelligent as their mayor was inept, quickly decided to do some creative number crunching of their own. In two short terms Umberthar Spildo quickly gained a reputation as the city’s least popular mayor of all time. City historians and others close to the political scene placed well-advised wagers. If there was one Spildo in all of Galepath history that could manage to lose an uncontested election, this Umberthar fellow was that one.

Even in all his immense naiveté Umberthar Spildo could not help but be aware of the unavoidable difficulties in the upcoming election. If he were to lose the Galepath vote of confidence, the city would be without a mayor. Worse still from his point of view, the Spildo family would be without a house and home for the first time in six hundred years. In his own feeble way he had begun to take precautions, certain measures to ensure his continued political success, not the least of which was a poorly disguised attempt to gain votes in exchange for a lowering of certain individual’s exorbitant tax dues.

Also ranking among Umberthar’s interesting political moves were his repeated attempts to shore up his support in the other cities of Quendor in 398 GUE. In a rare moment of insight, he had realized that the people of Galepath, firm believers in the union of their city and Mareilon, were likely to be very impressed by an endorsement of Spildo by Mareilon’s government. For weeks, emissaries traveled back and forth between the two proud metropolises, exchanging vaguely phrased, tricky political communiqués. So far all these efforts on Spildo’s part had produced no visible results. On Oracle 12, 398 GUE, his ambassadored latest mission took a very sour turn. Mayor Hegilburg of Mareilon flatly refused to see him, turning him away right at his doorstep. Instead the emissary had been left to wander the streets of Mareilon, only to come across Zarfil's rally of overthrowing Mareilon and conquering of Galepath (demanding the end of Spildo's reign as the only way to avenge that city's guilty deeds of having risen with Entharion against Mareilon). The Emissary quickly returned to Mareilon to Galepath to report to Umberthar.

Shortly after, a minion of Belegur had managed to steal the Sacred Scrolls of Fizbin from the Galepath University library. While the mayor had already this man to coordinate a search for Zarfil’s spies in Galepath, Spildo suspected that it was Zarfil who had stolen the Scrolls of Fizbin, most likely to ransom control over the religious communities. But there was no evidence for these allegations. Not caring if Zarfil was the culprit or not, the mayor accused the rebel prince for the theft. This incident was used as an excuse to declare a decree for Mareilon to return the Scrolls. If the city was uncooperative in the arrest of Zarfil, force would be taken against Mareilon. There was no other way to avert a war. The following fragment is all that survives of the edict issued from the desk of Spildo:

...and thus resolved that the continued allowance of Zarfil, a traitor to Quendor, to freely campaign against the city of Galepath constitutes aiding and abetting a criminal. Be it also resolved that the recent disappearance from the Galepath University Library of several priceless works, among them the Scrolls of Fizbin, can be nothing other than the vile work of Zarfil against our beloved city. It is proclaimed henceforth that the city-state of Galepath will employ any and all means necessary to ensure the recovery of its rightful property, and that if the criminal Zarfil is not apprehended and brought to justice, and the Scrolls returned to Galepath immediately, that the mayor of Galepath, Umberthar Spildo, officially authorizes the use of force against that city of traitors and criminals, Mayor Hegilburg’s Mareilon…

Fearing that Galepath would attack Mareilon, Dinbar was sent from Largoneth on behalf of Zylon the Aged with orders to prevent the Galepath militia from marching against Mareilon. The mayor of Galepath nodded and thought about it for a few minutes, was undeterred by Dinbar’s attempts at persuasion, and had him thrown in the bowels of the dungeons. Ordering the Galepath city militia to march, they had headed out to Mareilon ostensibly to recover the priceless Scrolls of Fizbin from the “thief”, the self-appointed Prince Zarfil. Knowing that a successful campaign would improve his chances for reelection, the mayor also entertained thoughts that defeating Zarfil would earn him great recognition from the royal government at Largoneth, perhaps even knighthood, or the title of lord.

Nevertheless, Spildo remained a complete stranger to military strategy, and his efforts so far had been marred with failure. Ordering his troops due south from the Galepath city gates, he quickly realized that he actually had no true sense of where Mareilon was. After several lengthy and heated discussions with his advisors, the army finally arrived at a reasonably accurate marching plan, but only after the delay cost nearly a day of marching time. But that was only one delay. The mayor was taken ill, apparently having experienced a painful reaction to the switch from rich city food to spartan military fare. The highest ranking militia lieutenants, uncertain how to proceed without the instructions of their leader, milled about camp aimlessly, delaying the order to march.

As dark came on the previous night, tents had been set up in a convenient clearing, near a stream running from steep, ridged hills to the east. These were the Jerrimore Plains, of which lands had belonged to that clan for centuries, and the abandoned Jerrimore Estate which no one dared to venture near. Unbeknownst to any at the campsite, someone did still live in that ancient place. Staring out at the newcomers, a mind angry and resentful at the intrusion worked secret magical spells that wove themselves among the sleeping soldiers that night. Many would wake the next day filled with memories of discomforting dreams. Several even ran screaming through the camp hours before the break of dawn, frightened by some mysterious intrusion into their thoughts. Disrupted by the dark images that had invaded the hours of sleep, many soldiers grumbled openly, speaking out against the foolishness of naked aggression against Mareilon. One even suggested that the only reasonable choice was to turn back while they still had a chance.

The next morning, Spildo's men caught the first fleeting gleams of metal as Zarfil and his forces filled the ridge above them. At the same time, the Nezgeth tribe from the west arrived at the same plains. Umberthar Spildo of Galepath made a desperate attempt to shake off his worsening stomach illness to guide his troops. Leaving his tent at the first sound of conflict planned to muster the army to his side with one trumpet blast and throw back the invading barbarians. But the trumpet note lurched and died mid-breath, the trumpeter stabbed from behind by a Nezgeth blade. Spildo soon found himself surrounded on three sides by the forces of the onrushing horde. Separated from the bulk of his force, which had been drawn off into a vicious melee farther to the west, Spildo stood with only his own personal group of guards to prevent the fatal wound that would inevitably get through. Looking desperately for a way to avoid the crushing grip of the surrounding force, he took the only option available, shifting away from the three-sided advance and backing even farther into the center of the battlefield. Mayor Spildo continued his desperate retreat from the Nezgeth, moving within feet of Zarfil and his men.

The day had begun with the two armies of Spildo and Zarfil marching inexorably towards civil war. All thoughts of hatred between Galepath and Mareilon long forgotten, the defenders soon found themselves collapsing in fatigue, while the advancing hordes seemed to be further invigorated with each successive skirmish. Both Zarfil and Spildo, standing together side-by-side, both met their simultaneous end at the hands of the Nezgeth warriors. The two armies of the two proud, ancient cities, suddenly disappeared from the face of Zork.