TANK! YOU LISTEN TO ME, YOU PARTY-WIPING SON OF A KODO!
I have been standing here—sweating, shaking, channeling the raw power of EARTH, FIRE, WIND, WATER, AND EVERY DEAD ANCESTOR I CAN GET ON THE LINE—to keep your sorry plate-wrapped carcass from faceplanting… and what do you do?

You charge ahead, you pull twelve, no, THIRTEEN mobs—one for every IQ point you don’t have—and you drag the rest of us into the SPIRIT WORLD!

Do you know what it’s like on the other side, tank? I DO. I talk to the spirits. You know what they tell me?

They say: "Let him die."
They say: "We are tired of seeing his soul wander in here every three minutes."

You think your armor’s strong? The only thing strong about you is the smell of panic when you realize your health bar’s dropping faster than my patience!

So here’s what’s gonna happen: you’re gonna slow down… you’re gonna respect the pull… KNOW YOUR PLACE… AND SHUT YOUR MOUTH!
Or the next time you go full Leroy, I’ll stop the heals, dismiss my totems, and watch as the mobs tenderize you like a tauren barbecue!