You play the damsel

You have the advantage of a head start on the cult, and the further away you get before they even awaken, the harder it will be for them to find you. You make a dash out into the street, not an article of clothing or possession with you. This is bound to get attention, which is exactly what you're looking for. Finding a daring adventurer, you could put some serious distance between you and Rosita and her goons. Or, make it a serious threat should they ever catch up. The sun hasn't quite risen into the air, but it's close, and consequently, your hope to draw a major scene isn't the success you hoped it was; the streets are still abandoned. Now is the time for improvisation. You shake your hair for a more maddened look as you run headlong towards a tavern. You recognized the name from stories that ArchDeacon Doolyn would tell you of his glory days. To hear him tell it, it was one of the oldest taverns in the city and guaranteed to have some interesting person from some interesting place on some interesting mission.

The Don't Go Inn. You didn't have the time to enjoy the ironic humor, as you made a mad sprint inside. You don't even look before you go into your dramatization, yelling "Please, Please someone has to help me!" As you do, you see this place is sparsely filled. There's some wandering and confused eyes but no immediate signs of concern. This isn't what you had hoped, but all you need is one sympathetic ear, and that is exactly what you get. Well...maybe not sympathetic.

A tall, imposing dragonkin gets up and walks towards you. Through the rough brown robes, you see the glimmering reflections of black scales, it's dark clawed hand holding an impressive staff. Never having seen a dragonkin yourself, you feel the unmistakable twinge of fear running along your spine. The blacks were frequently the most feared among the dragons, and that fear often passed to their bipedal dragonkin clans as a result. Your fear may be misplaced, if only slightly, as this spellcaster approaches.

"What's the trouble, missssss?"

You don't hesitate to play up the drama, speaking as fast as possible. "You have to help me get out of the city. There's these people, and I thought they were friends, and than they turned out to be a bunch of cultist freaks and they used me and now I have a curse on me and they were going to keep me prisoner and I escaped when they were asleep and you have to help me please" The dragonkin softly strokes the tendrils from it's snout "Interesting. Where would you have me take you if I were to save you?"

"The curse has to be broken or they'll always find me. We need to find the"

"The Scepter of Xodion. Xodion, the Harbinger of Despair."

"Y-Yes. How do you?"

"Know of such things?" The deep voice of the dragonkin is unsettling "It helps to live long lives. There are few curses that are thought to be unbreakable. Fewer still that don't kill the person that has been cursed. That treasure is thought to rest in the open remains of Xodion's lost tower. He was never killed by hero's or by a rival. It is thought his magic got the best of him, that he tried to summon a demon beyond his control or some other occurrence. The treasures that would lay in such a place would be....immeasurable."

"So will you help me or not?" The dragonkin nods "What you are asking is rife with danger, for both our sakes, but rife with secrets to be learned. There is one stipulation"

"Yes, anything" You respond enthusiastically.

"Don't get in my way, and don't try and stop me. I rescue you from this mess you got yourself into, so I call the shots. Fair?"

"Fair"

Another small chuckle "Excellent, and I had begun to think today would be a slow day."