King Elk Forest its official.

everyone, shut up. it's ravinger time. he bursts onto the scene with a howl so over-the-top, so full of melodic and transformative riffs that it's almost obscene.  ravinger is that music major that constructs ridiculous harmonies singing the happy birthday song; he's that obnoxious theatre major that starts belting ballads in an olive garden at two in the afternoon.  the rest of the pack are his very loud, very unnecessary back-up singers.  now, he's here to shine.