#2: The Way In, and the Beautiful City
As the crew discussed the direction of their entry, Noon chewed on...something dark. Something colored like a setting sun. The turner knew it to be clay, a chewing clay that smelled of cypress and soil with some nutrient value, though it was purely recreational. The small supply he had left would not last long; Soufi had held their stash before they were separated.
For now, the constant mastication was repetitive enough to calm his nerves. A heist worthy of song was just before them all, but it would be for naught if they couldn't figure out how to get in.
"Ze less bloodshed, ze better," Noon mumbled to himself, mostly at himself, at Charinida's mention of the guards. It wasn't there fault they stood between them and their task. It was important that he ruled out whatever violence he could; it was no use getting caught up in it if there was no need.
The bard mentioned the backlogged brown log creek as a method as well. Noon was...unenthusiastic about the idea. Besides the minor (yet major) ramifications of soiled sewn goods, the sewer's smells may give them away eventually. A Turner trick would solve that problem relatively quickly for him and a couple others, but not for everyone. Not even for long.
Before even getting through that way was the issue of grates, certainly aggravating to any would-be re-possessor. Getting through those may take a bit of talented tool work, immense muscle, or some arcane antics he was currently aware of.
"However vwe get in, ze guards vill be a problem..." Noon's jaw worked at the chewing clay as methodically as he spoke. "Per'aps vwe can draw zhere attentions in ano'ter direction. Per'aps...to ze front door? Zhen vwe can make our vway up ze back...like cats." Big cats with no claws at that, but cats have limited options when dealing with wooden window shutters. "Ze vindows...maybe guarded, but a dis-traction may pull any vwatchers away as vwell..."