Even the dead ones.
Tail swipes and bad breath is bad enough. Add in a room what be colder than Lady Sylvanas' arse and a whole lotta big fuhggin poopcicles, and you got yerself a real hoottenannificationizing.
Tonight, the Purge went in ta deepest darkest Naxx and woke up this here bonepile, name of Saptharion. Sindraphiron. Sarmalygosa. Whatevers. We had with us Tarsius the kinda sorta sober, Zinzi what gives good resurrection, Unsup and Ix the dead cow twins, Throttle what used ta need goggles but don't no more, Big Bad Guun, Rim with his fingers set ta hocus-pocus (and prolly a rabbit in his hat), Dead-Eye Bull, and of course yours truly in the role of most amazingly virile. Course nobody listened ta me when I told'em fer ta get some frost resist armors, so after a while of getting whacked around by the big boner I sent everyone backs ta civilization fer ta re-gear. We come back, get a little more practice dodging poopcicles, and looky what happened:
Re-re-Naxx is almost clear - just ol' K'T left ta go. Is almost like we's learnin' ta raid er sumthin'.
I dunno, ya think we need more Taurens in the guild...?