The moment seemed to stretch for days, and Lichemaster's keen mind ran down dozens of strategies - all of them indirect attacks, misdirection, or utilising the Furnace's Knight's own momentum against him. Death Despoil had, in his millenia, very rarely engaged in unarmed combat, and though through sheer osmosis of experience was not incapable, it was certainly among his weakest capabilities, so avoiding it was still a superior option...

Most pertinently, though his eyeglows remained fixed unblinkingly on the Furnace Knight, his peripheral vision was measuring up the distance to the containment cells he'd seen - via Unlucky's transmitted helmet HUD displays - and, drawing on his phenominal recall, estimating the largest cluster of cells that seemed to have the heaviest protections.

Outwardly, however, he remained motionless and silent, not making any move towards the cuffs, nor even glancing down as they slid to a stop. (He did not dismiss them as a threat out of hand, however, and one small portion of his mind prepared to pre-emptively act if they should suddenly become animated or begin to emit any kind of antimagic field.)

"I think not." the Lichemaster replied, at length. "I believe the next move, Furnace Knight, is yours."