My life is pretty busy, but I'll do my utmost to try to get a post up every 3 days or so (provided I'm in town and at my computer - I do a lot of running around).

Chapter 3

Vellena lounged on the bench, feeling a little strange in the white and black cloth outfit that had been brought to her. True to the blue-haired man's words, stuff had been brought, and then she had been left to her own devices. She'd removed her armour and mostly-ruined clothes, cleaned herself with the warm water and rag, and then cleaned and finished minor repairs on her gear. She would need a forge to repair the worst of the damage, but the armour was still serviceable. Then she dressed in the strange, formfitting white outfit and ate the food. It was cold by then, but really, her arms and armour came first. It beat the Northrend rations she had in her bags.

Then she had put her armour in her bags, silently thanking the magic that allowed her to put sixty pounds of titansteel and other alloy into a bag that weighed no more than a small coin purse. This, she kept on her belt, which she in turn kept under the strange, wide cloth belt her captors(rescuers?) had supplied. They hadn't confiscated any of her gear, and she wasn't going to go completely unarmed. Her axe, she put in the bag and replaced with two runeblades – not her Runeblade, of course, but they would serve if she needed them. That she did not touch.

No sooner had she finished the last bite of strange food, than the door once more swung open. Looking up, she saw that there were again two men. The blue-haired one – Grimmjow – wasn't present, but the shorter one with the half-helmet and green tear markings – Ulquiorra, she remembered – was standing there looking at her expressionlessly. She noted he was missing an eye, and wondered how that happened. The other guy looked more genuinely human, with no sign of bone on his face or any traces of a hole on his body. He had pale skin, silver hair, an unreadable grin, and eyes that didn't seem to open past slits. He was as tall as Grimmjow.

"Ah, I hope ya had enough time to rest. Sounds like ya had a long journey. Well, ya can come with me now. Aizen has some questions for ya." The silver-hair said. Vellena rose and nodded solemnly. The short guy opened up another portal. She considered it. She thought she might be beginning to grasp what he was doing there – it had similarities to the death gate. Then she stepped through.

This time, they ended up in what was clearly an audience room of some variety. It was huge, with a high ceiling. Ranks of strange looking people – not humans but like sky-top and tear-face – lined the room. At the end were two other humans – one dark-skinned man with a visor who stood, and a seated pale-skinned one. Every single individual wore some variant of the white and black uniform she had been given.

She walked silently forward, noting each individual, though seeming to ignore everyone but the two people at the end of the hall. She saw Grimmjow standing among the ranks, and figured he must occupy some position of importance here. Given the massive power she had sensed from him earlier, that was likely.

Vellena came to a stop in front of the brown-haired man, standing straight, eyes forward.

After a moment, he shifted from his languid pose and looked straight into her eyes. She got the impression that this wasn't someone she wanted to mess with, despite his calm demeanor. There was something extremely… formidable… lurking in those brown eyes. Then he spoke. His quiet, almost gentle voice nearly surprised her, but she maintained strict discipline over her body and reactions. There were advantages to being a highly trained, mostly dead soldier. Lack of fear and near-complete control over one's reactions were among them.

"Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?" the man said with a smile.

"My name is Vellena Nightwind. I am a Death Knight of the Ebon Blade, sworn to fight against the Lich King Arthas until death takes me again." She said. Her tone was crisp and matter of fact. If the deathly sound of her voice was unexpected by the man, he didn't show it. Behind her, she sensed some of the spectators shifting – they had not expected it. The visored man shifted slightly, she got the impression that he was not happy with her for some reason. Oh well, one couldn't please everyone, and Vellena didn't see the point in trying.

"Vellena." Smiled the man. "I am Aizen Sōsuke. You may call me Aizen. Welcome to Las Noches." So this was the Aizen that Grimmjow had mentioned, she thought. It was clear he was the one running the place. The throne had been a pretty big tip off, as was the deferential manner of every soul in the place. He spoke again. "Now, would you mind answering a few questions?" He sounded pretty reasonable.

"I would not. Provided you do not inquire about those things the Ebon Blades consider to be wartime secrets, I have no objection to answering your questions." She stated. Another angry shift from Visor. Another smile from Aizen. Shuffling from the ranks behind her.

"That won't be a problem, Vellena. I'll start with where you are from..."

True to his word, Aizen did not ask about anything that would have been considered a wartime secret. His questions were general knowledge questions, some history questions, and questions about herself and her people, about Arthas and the undead, the lands she had come from, etc. Vellena had no qualms with any of them and answered all those she could – her memories of what had gone on before her undeath were a little spotty. She indicated which questions she could not answer, and he merely nodded and went on. Most of her answers seemed to surprise the other people there, but Aizen maintained his gentle smiling demeanor. Her belief that he was a very dangerous man was not swayed in the slightest. After what must have been an hour or more of questioning, he stopped. "Do you have any questions, Vellena?" he asked.

"I am not in Azeroth anymore, am I?" she asked. The absence of the constant presence of Arthas attempting to regain control of her mind was a good indication, as was all of the strangeness here, but she had to ask.

"No. You have clearly come from another world, one that is apparently not interlinked with any of ours." He answered.

"I am stuck here then. What happens now?"

Aizen shifted, still smiling. "You are a guest among us, Vellena. I will have my scientist look into returning you to your home. In the meantime, you may do what you like here, provided you do not hinder our war efforts. You see, we have a war of our own, against a deadly enemy. Shinigami, they are called. Death gods. They are not to be underestimated." So, this was not peacetime for Aizen and his people either. Somehow, she was not surprised. She didn't know what shinigami were, but Aizen seemed to suggest they were something like Arthas' forces. Well, she might be useful then.

"If I can be of service, Lord Aizen, I will." The Death Knight stated. Aizen smiled at her, a warm and kindly smile.

"It is not your war, I understand. Nevertheless, your offer is appreciated, and your aid will be accepted." He said. He gazed at the people lining the audience hall. "Grimmjow?"

"Yeah?" came a laconic reply from a voice she remembered. She still did not move. Strength could be perceived in the portrayal of unconcern about what went on beyond one's back. And the Death Knight had the feeling that it was best to be perceived as strong here.

"You will be Vellena's liaison. You are to show her to her room and see to it that she has everything she needs, and to be her guide in Las Noches."

"Che." The man's reply was none too enthusiastic, Vellena thought.

"Aizen-sama! Surely she would be better served with another Espada in that role? Grimmjow is a, shall we say, a world class—." Whatever the unknown male speaker was going to say was interrupted by Grimmjow.

"Shut up, Nnoitra. I'll do it. And I'll do a better job of it than you would, spoon-head." Grimmjow snapped. So – she was an imposition, but not one he was willing to relinquish? Amusing. Despite herself, Vellena's lips curled in a close-mouthed smile.

Aizen gestured to someone behind her – she could only assume it was Grimmjow. It was fairly clear that the meeting had been dismissed. She turned to face the other people, some of whom were attempting to look at her, others of whom had apparently gotten tired of hanging around and were leaving. They were a varied bunch – most looked somewhat human, but there were strange hair and eye colours that would look more at home on gnomes, elves, or trolls. Most had fragments of bone somewhere on their head and face. She saw some symbols tattooed on various body parts, the meaning of which was not known to her. Many of the people had coloured facial markings, such as Ulquiorra's green tear tracks, or the teal spots on Grimmjow's lower lids. Some had visible holes, others did not. Although everyone was clearly wearing uniforms, each uniform was unique. That was an odd thought – unique uniforms.

Grimmjow was glaring at a very tall man with black hair and a spoon-shaped hood – that would be spoon-head Nnoitra, she supposed. As she turned to face sky-top, he looked at her out of the side of his eyes and jerked his head towards the entrance. "C'mon let's go." He snarled, giving spoon-head another dirty glare. Wordlessly, Vellena followed him from the hall.