Army of Ponch was hatched many moons ago in the vibrance of Gainesville's most tepid summer. Four men brought forth steel goblets and devised a scheme that only the gods could fathom. For no mere mortal could bear sonically or perceive mentally the wave of destruction about to ensue. The fiery breath spit forth by Jack of Bailey, the Viking rythmn pounded by Welsh Lord Danny, the nimble fingers of the Amadorian Prince Gui, and the bone grinding hammer swinging of Peasant Farmer Geis combined to form an entity that has transcended economic as well hierological


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