Fine.  Brask pick the old man up and carries him.  Lead on, Xy.  I'll try not to bang his head too many times.  You coming?  he asks Burik.  Then he frowns for a moment. Wasn't there a tabaxi? Where did he go? He shrugs and follows the aarakocra.

OOC: DHProphet's (Cynder's) last post was 10th of october, I think he's MIA.

Xy leads the others back up the alley, avoiding stepping in the pools of blood that were slowly spreading through the dirt. "Whatever happened here was violent. Extremely so." he says, stating the obvious. He wonders if this sort of thing happens more often in this town. If so, the guard is most likely understaffed or incompetent, either way they would be happy to recruit some people to help out, if Brask and Burik are willing to do come civil justice.

Once they reach the mouth of the alley Xy will start heading towards the cathedral, figuring that would be the most likely place they would find someone who could bring the priest back to consciousness. Meanwhile he also keeps an eye out for any guard patrols passing by to notify them of what happened.

OOC: I reached out to Cynder via PM. We'll see if he shows back up by the time Burik is back next week.

The three of you head back to the street, with the priest being carried by Brask. As soon as you emerge onto the main avenue of the merchant district, people start to notice you. First people grow silent, and then whispers begin. People part as you walk through, staring at the strange scene. Nobody bothers you at first, until finally a pair of guards finally push through the crowd. They both hold pikes in their hands, and step in front of you.

"What the hell is going on here?" The first asks. He's confident but not necessarily confrontational. It's a big city, and he's probably seen stranger. That is, until the second guard notices who Brask is carrying.

"Oh shit...it's High Priest Xander!" The second guard suddenly becomes quite nervous looking. He starts to hold out his pike. "Who...wh-what did you do?" 

Xy quickly steps in front of Brask to ensure the pike's tip is pointing at his chest, not Brask's, and speaks loudly and clearly. "There was a fight outside the Learned Wren, in the alley. Several dead, we found the priest there and managed to bring him back, but he's still only hanging on by a thread. Two fugitives, black robed, too far away for me to distinguish any features and they fled the moment we arrived.
"Summon your colleagues to secure the scene, and we could use an escort to the cathedral, or any place closer where the priest can be healed. I am happy to answer questions, but we need to ensure this man is cared for, first."

He holds himself erect, projecting the same air of authority as he would if it were his duty to patrol the streets here, today.

Brask grunts in approval as the aarakocra takes command of the situation from the idiot local guards, but does continue to scowl at the pike-wielder.  What he said.

The nervous-looking guard still holds out his pike, looking to the other for direction.

Xyr, roll a persuasion check with advantage. 

Mechanics:

The first guard stands up a bit straighter and turns to the second. "You heard him! Clear these people out of the way. We need to get the High Priest back to the cathedral!"

Xyr, Brask, and Burik follow the two guards as they clear the throngs of onlookers out of the way. It's slow going, and Brask can feel the priest coughing and spitting blood and bile onto him. He's starting to get frustrated as they finally get clear of crowds and the main avenue opens up toward the cathedral. You all hurry your pace and start climbing the last bit of hill up to the holy site. As you get near, a young priest reading on the steps sees you, slowly gets up, and then runs inside in a panic.

A few moments later, as you reach the steps, a much older priest emerges and starts making his way down to meet you. You think he's a priest anyway...his robes are a bit different, with different colored sleeves and accoutrements coming off of it. 

Brask, roll a perception check.

Brask frowns at the man and his robes:  Perception 6

Brasks gently lays down the High Priest as the older clergyman leans down and presses his hands against his chest. You can feel a tingling sensation as some kind of holy energy radiates out of his hands and into the injured priest. After a moment, he turns to his side and starts throwing up. It's a reddish green color, and smells rancid. "That should get rid of the poison. Let's hope it's enough," the old man declares. He turns his attention to the wounds and starts to heal them slowly, moving his hands up and down the deep wounds.

As this is happening, a man emerges from the crowd behind the party and starts approaching. Brask doesn't notice it until the man puts his hand on his shoulder. It startles you, Brask, and you turn quickly in a defensive position. Standing there, though, is Sam Stisk, the undercover agent you met while fighting the bandits a few days ago. "Glad to see you all made it here...and I see you wasted no time getting into trouble." He looks at a few of the younger priests and gestures toward the Cathedral. "Can we get him inside, please?"

The crowd has started to disperse, realizing the show is probably over. Sam waits a few moments to be sure there's nobody nearby. He does give a side eye to Xyr, but goes on anyway... "We can catch up on pleasantries later. What the hell happened? How did you find yourself bringing the High Priest back here?"

Burik will join Sam to one side. "Figures in black, bringing death by poison apparently. The other priests are dead. Is there a religious turf war going on here or something?"

He thinks for a moment. "I... felt something, just before Xyr said he heard a scream. Maybe they used magic in some way, or maybe death calls out to me, something like a Banshee." As he talks he's idly fiddling with the amulet hanging from his neck.

Someone thought the old priest wasn't holy enough, and decided to give him a few more holes.  Brask laughs loudly at his own joke, not caring whether anyone else found it funny.  Good to see a familiar face, I guess.  And it looks like there's some trouble amongst rich and powerful folks that they might want to pay money to have sorted out, am I right?

"Oh, shit." Sam looks off in the distance for a second, considering something. "We were afraid of this...that the cult had already arrived in the city. Ballsy, though, striking at the High Priest like that. Guess they're not pulling any punches. Can you lead me to where they disappeared? Longer we wait, less of a chance we'll be able to track 'em."

He smiles at Brask. "As for coin, the Sons will have no problem reimbursing you all for your...services." 

"This way Sam, it's not a pretty sight" Burik will then start to lead towards the alley. He's walking around with his hand constantly on his hammer, visibly on guard.

Brask follows along.  Keep the gold flowing, Sam, and we'll be best friends before you know it.

Sam follows you back to the scene, pausing as he rounds the corner. "Goodness". He takes in the gory details before heading to the far end. He seems quite observant, and is leaning down to check the various boot prints left there - some by the attackers, you're guessing. He turns a few corners and ends up in about the same area where Xyr had tracked them to before losing them. 

"Well, couple different options here, but my favorite is down there," he points to a sewer grate. "Rumors that seedy groups operate out of the sewer systems of the city, and it's probably a damn good hiding spot. Who's in?" He starts to tug at the grate.

OOC: Might be offline for a day or two with work. Hope everyone is having a good weekend!

Xyrfaen lets out a curse under his breath. Of course they would use the sewer. Tight, cramped spaces. Why could it not be a simple rooftop cult, for once?

"What can you tell us about this cult? Anything specific we should be wary of? And perhaps it is time for quick introductions before we go down to a place where we need to have eachother's backs. Xyrfaen, member of the Winged Veil of Renspire. Part of the guard there, you could say."

Always, replies Brask.  He looks at the aarakocra; Oh, yeah.  That's right, you two didn't meet.  Sam's a spy, or something like that.  We met him just before we met you.  Good fighter, but he was in a hurry to get to the city.  How about that, Sam - like what you found so far?

"Apologies," Sam extends his hand to Xyr. "I am an agent of the Sons of Oshait. We have been working for a long time to protect this cursed land, and your friend the High Priest was one of us as well. Doesn't matter what god you worship - this place needs all the help it can get. Anyway, I was tasked with infiltrating the bandit group your newfound companions here ran into to. They've been trafficking people between here and the eastern cities, possibly even the Carrion Coast. Some people seem innocent enough - young girls, loners, your typical kidnapping victims. But they've been picking off some pretty high level folks, too. Sorcerers, wizards, and the like." 

Sam and Brask yank the grate free and start to slide it out of the way. "The cult is actually from closer to your neck of the words...Xyrfang, was it? The Cult of the Beast. They worship the demon Yeenoghu, the prince of gnolls. They're a nasty folk...not quite as nasty as gnolls themselves, but damn close. And smarter. They've had spies in the cities for years and have started to coordinate attacks on high ranking members of the Sons and other would-be do-gooders. Thankfully the High Priest knows how to defend himself...we'll see if he makes it. Others haven't been so lucky."

He pulls out his bow and gestures to Xyr. "Trust me - I'd much rather join you on the rooftops, but in we go!" He starts to descend into the sewer. 

Xyrfaen sighs inwardly, resigning to the fact that his name was just not one folks around these parts were familiar with. "Call me Xyr. I have been sent here to investigate rumors of the cult out this way, I do not know if I am lucky or not running in with them so soon, and learning the rumors are true."

He watches the man descend down into the tunnel, snapping his beak in discomfort. "Very well." he says finally, following in after.