What follows is my justification.
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Sela Thennes, thief, assassin, and sometimes mercenary, strode confidently across the subterranean bridge towards the surface, toying with the wand she had taken from the dead sorceror.
The Arcane Brotherhood’s alright in my books, she thought as she idly examined the wand. They killed the sorcerer before he immolated me, and even left all the nice, highly-priced items behind afterwards. Too bad I didn’t get all of them … She frowned as she heard and grunt and a stumble coming from the man she knew only as ‘Smite’. He was following her to the surface, carrying the dead priestess Daneira as well as a few magical trinkets of his own.
Sela smiled to herself as she neared the end of the bridge, coming up on the runed chamber. The foolish man had agreed all too easily to carry Daneira’s body, which now left him hopelessly encumbered, unable to fight back should the … untoward occur. Merely a precaution on Sela’s part, of course. She had no plans to betray her companion.
That is, she didn’t until there was a soft click from the wand and one end began glowing a pale blue. The assassin’s smile widened. This magic business isn’t so hard. Now what was that damn sorcerer shouting when he had this thing pointed at us … She tapped her chin with the wand thoughtfully as she strode into the runed chamber. A muffled curse floated past her from the direction of the bridge, where ‘Smite’ still struggled with Daneira’s corpse.
Sela casually stepped further into the chamber, standing on an angle to the archway that led to the bridge. She leveled the wand at the doorway as ‘Smite’ stepped through.
“It’s been a pleasure working with you, Smite,” she called cheerily at the staggering man, who looked up with wide eyes at the magical weapon, his own weapons out of reach with the dead priestess’ body on his shoulder. The assassin smiled cruelly, hissing “Glacies Vesica!” as the wand in her hand jumped and spat ice at her companion. A muffled “thud” echoed in the small chamber as he collapsed to the ground.
Sela sauntered over to the prone ‘Smite’, slipping the now-inactive wand back into her pack and drawing a thin dagger. Her companion’s chest was pierced by dagger-like chunks of ice, and frothy blood bubbled up around the wounds. A pierced lung, most likely. She crouched near him, gently stroking his hair with one hand as she enjoyed the look in his desperate, frightened eyes.
“Your assistance has been much appreciated,” she whispered, and drew her dagger across his throat, ending his life in a spray of blood and final gasp of air.
Sela wiped her dagger clean, sheathed it, then plucked from ‘Smite’s’ body the magical trinkets he had procured from the dead sorcerer … and his coin purse, of course. It was quite heavy, and jingled reassuringly. Everything else seemed either too bulky to easily transport, or too worthless to bother trying. She straightened up, and her gaze fell on the body of Daneira, which had fallen to the floor along with the late ‘Smite’.
She frowned. Really, I ought to just go. Carrying her out would be too much work, attract too many questions … and the cost of resurrecting her would be ruinous. She may have saved my life a few times, but no sense holding debts for dead people. Better to just … her eyes widen slightly … leave … a tear begins to well in one … her …
Memories wash over Sela. She is fourteen, and is dashing headlong along a darkened city street followed by her friend and partner-in-crime, Miria, whose blonde hair and pale skin make her nearly identical in appearance to Daneira, though younger. The two girls veer into a large stable and make a beeline for the loft. Sela scrambles up the wooden ladder, then turns and beckons for Miria to follow. The blonde girl starts up the rungs, but is weighed down by the leather satchel of rare herbs the two had pilfered from the local apothecary. She makes it only a few feet up before Sembian militiamen burst into the building and drag her down, knocking the ladder away in the process.
Sela watches, wide-eyed, from the loft, as Miria is thrown to the stable floor and the leather satchel and her clothes are torn away. The blonde girl, nearly blind with terror, sees her from the ground, and begins screaming, “Sela! Sela, help me! Don’t leave me!” even as the leering militiamen begin to crowd around.
In the loft, Sela looks away as the first ‘soldier’ pulls off his belt and lets his trousers drop, though Miria still screams her name. With agonizing slowness she crawls to the small window and eases herself outside and to the ground inside an alleyway, trembling violently. She steals off into the night, followed by the echoes of Miria’s screams … “Don’t leave me!”
The cruel, calculating, cold-hearted assassin shakes her head, trying to clear it, as a tear runs down her left cheek. She wipes it away, tucking one raven-black lock of hair behind her ear before crouching down and grabbing hold of Daneira’s body. Not this time, Miria. I won’t leave you. I promise, I won’t leave you behind …
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The seemingly OOC action, of course, was going to the trouble of dragging Daneira’s body out of the subterranean catacombs, and eventually paying the exorbitant price for a reincarnation as well.
This is primarily meant for the others in the Luskan campaign group, but since Rusty won’t let me post it there
you all get to read my rationalizations! 
