Able made the swift turn he had braced for at the first flash of moving metal, his staff spun fast with two hands whirling it at the center. Feeling the large knights heavy presence only inches at his back, he had spun like he was playing a sport of his childhood. It put him in front instead of behind. He swung an end of Mythrend's shaft at the dark-haired women's hilt upward, hopefully breaking the grip that could've been shaken by the knight's block. Without a second in between his hands had seized the other end and he extended it far from them, releasing it pointed at the space between the rogue's retreating knees. She seems graceful, but he aimed to hinder her motion like spokes on a wheel. She was too cunning, too much like him, more of a threat than the danger of the crossfire he put himself in. As his one hand relinquished his staff his other unsheathed it's counterpart, and he held it arched above him with it's broad edge and began to charge the woman once more, low. Able had no intention of swinging the only thing preventing a steel rain on top of him. Just keeping her defensive or on the stone.