'S called Moloch, Draws Slow, Blizzara, and Aura. Don't seem t' care 'bout much other than the shitty coffins though, eh?

[Namur huffs, running his hand over his hair.]

Let's bust 'em up an' see what happens. Thing's distressed rather'n pissed an' I'd rather we make friends than have t' try skinnin' it so it don't go t' waste. Don't let it breathe on y' though. Make y' sluggish.

[With that, he turns and slams his fists into the next nearest coffin, reducing it to firewood.]