"Happy new year!"

"And that's enough ale for you." Marteau said as he took the tankard away from Volibear's outstretched paws. Founder, can this little guy put it away. The little fuzzball had almost gone through an entire barrel by himself. And the barrel was at least three times his size. "Thinking it's New Years.." The large man mumbled with an amused snort at the drunk teddy bear.

"Hic.. no your drunk... and where does that walking purse get off talking bout my mother like that.." Volibear said between hicups as he flopped around in some lucky maid's lap as she gently scratched the little drunks ears. "And my father was not a throw rug! He was a proud warr- hic-.. Uuugh.. I hate being tiny..."

"And why is that? You have the entire female staff fighting over who gets to play with you during their break. Most men would kill to be in your position." Marteau grinned as he took a drink from his tankard. They'd been sitting her for at least to hours, drinking and swapping stories. Well. He was swapping stories, Volibear was drinking like a man possessed. And if asked what happened, he just broke down into tears.

The maids were eating it up, taking turns to cuddle and calm him down as he blubbered. All the chef could pick up was something bout a 'She-Devil', 'pride as a man' and 'violated beyond repair'. So it was obviously a subject to be avoided in the future.

"That's not the point! Hic! I'm a warrior! A proud shaman of the Ursin-... ooooh that's the spot.." Volibear purred as The Maid found a particularly nice spot. The buzz of the alcohol and the attention he was getting was almost enough to reduce him to a puddle of cuddly fur. The only thing stopping him was his pride as a warrior.

But give him a few more tankards of ale, and check again.

"Give this woman a raise.." Volibear cuddled closer to the lucky maid, who was ignoring the various jealous glares her colleagues were sending her.

Marteau just chuckled. "I'll do my best, but I think a job well done is it's own reward. Especially in this case."

"Mmm... it's a shame.. if only we had such great service in Runeterra..."

"Runeterra? Is that were your from Cutey?" The Maid asked as she began to scratch under his chin. In the back of Volibear's mind, he made a promise with himself to get drunk less often, or he'd turn into some pampered cat at the current rate.

Volibear nodded. "It's nice in the way home is..." If he had any less alcohol in his system he would have felt homesick, probably, who knows. "The people were nice when they weren't trying to kill you and some of the places were just gorgeous.. the icy plains... the great spires of Demacia, or the wonders of Piltover... Even Noxia had a certain dark charm to it... funny how I've been here for only a few days though and it already seems like home... hic.."

Screw getting home though.. I'm still thirsty... curse whatever cruel and unfair twist of fate made me so tiny! I shall tear it to pieces with one paw behind my back so I can regain my true form... to return to the days I could go barrel for barrel with Gragas.. the human water balloon... well.. alcohol balloon.. of hair and booze... less details, more booze!

The tiny bear flopped out of his human chair onto the table in a futile quest for liquor, only to be stopped by Marteau's hand on his fuzzy forehead. Didn't stop Volibear from trying though, as he walked in place to get at the chef's tankard.

"Ugh uh. Enough for you little one. I don't even know where you fit it all at this point." The Head Chef chuckled as Volibear tried to struggle free from The Maid's cuddles and cooing.

What are they feeding these women?!

The shaman gasped for air once he was free from marshmallow hell, giving The Maid what he thought was a glare cold enough to freeze Brand himself. To The Maid, it was 'an adorable wittle pout with his wittle blue eyes'.

Spirits.. do the women here not know the meaning of the word moderation.. they are either flat as the tundra after a calm snow fall or have mountains stuffed down their shirt.. Volibear got comfortable, giving The Maid one last glare before she gave him a kiss on his forehead. Now she's taunting me... she doesn't look to tough..I could take heeeeerr...

"Women, if you were any less competent with those hands, we would have a problem..." Volibear melted back into a bliss of conversation and scratches behind the ear as he hoped his master was having as good a night as him. She'd been kind enough to let him leave to deal with the days trauma's, so he owed her. Maybe.

She didn't help me against The She-Devil though.. but it was against Kirche.. still... Ugh. He'd figure it out when he was sober enough to know how many claws he had on each hand. For now he'd give Marteau the puppy dog eyes until he got a refill.

While Volibear was off living like some sort of odd warrior-king, Tabitha was having a mostly pleasant afternoon of reading, not quite relaxing, and forced conversation.

If she knew her familiar was being waited on hand and foot by what could be loosely defined as a harem of eager women, she'd have interrupted him not out of spite or jealousy. At least, not that she'd ever admit to it. But out of a need for a soft pillow for her reading.

Far more acceptable a reason.

Besides, Kirche was the sort of annoyance you missed once they were gone. Even if she was talking bout her precious darling and her gift for him.

Frankly, Tabitha couldn't follow her train of logic. To Kirche it must have went somewhere along the lines of. Commoner stands up for fellow commoner against the wicked noble. Commoner refuses to back down, even when getting kicked around like his Master's ego on an average school day, if not worse. And finally when he passes out, he still refuses to surrender, making him some sort of shiny knight for all damsel's in distress, saved by what was probably his noble steed in the fiery red-head's imagination.

To Tabitha, the event could be described as such: There are two idiots. One who can't keep it in his pants, and one who can't keep his mouth shut. Idiot the Second accidentally let's slip Idiot the First's not so hidden secret to the one person who didn't know. Let's call them Idiot the Third, just for the sake of uniformity. Idiot the Third is understandably upset at Idiot the First, who puts the blame on Idiot the Second. Things devolve as they normally do between Idiots. Into a fight. Idiot the Second gets smacked around like a disobedient servant...

The blue-haired mage paused a moment to consider her statement, wondering if the whole thing was a form of dramatic irony that had taken place before her very eyes... The Founder be praised for your possible hidden meaning... even if it wasn't intended or if I'm wrong. At this point she might. Her brain was split into four non-equal parts.

The smallest paying attention to Kirche, offering the customary small nod when social conventions demanded it. The second smallest was devouted to her internal thoughts about The Grand Tale of Idiots the First Through Third, while the third piece was attached to her book. A rather thrilling tale of a magical world, devoid of magic. Pure fiction of course.

The largest part of her mind was working for ways to discretely purchase some of the clothes Volibear tried on in town today, as well as future ideas for that lovely tailor. Nice lady.

But we've deviated from Idiots the First and Second: A Tale as Old as Time, with it's exciting conclusion, of her familiar taking pity on the poor souls before teaching one a lesson while the other was sent to the infirmary.

Lesson to be learned? Familiar can tear through Bronze like rice paper. A thought to be filed under 'Very Important to Health'. And that idiots will be idiots. So nothing she didn't already know.

Tabitha almost felt bad for Louise. If it wasn't for her inability to actually cast a spell, they'd be in a tight race for the title of best mage of their year. No, instead she got stuck with some commoner. Hiding something though..A commoner hiding something, but still a commoner.

Having had enough of her internal thoughts, Tabitha raised her eyes to see what was the reason for the sudden increase in volume, only to see Louise and Kirche on either side of Louise's familiar, fighting over which sword he was going to use.

Personally, she'd go with the talking sword for no reason other than the fact it talked. Strong Magic..

Ah well, least it looked like it was going to be a quiet night. She might even be able to sleep in tomorrow.

Founder.. The petite young mage nearly cursed as soon as that last thought left her head. She just had to think it. Didn't she?

Five seconds later, things went to hell. Giant, noisy, rock Golem filled hell.

It was times like this, Tabitha wish she summoned a dragon. Just to have the height advantage for once in her life.

An: And we (I) are back! Mostly. I make no promises for the scheduling of future updates but for now have a chapter. I'll admit, I'm not entirely sure it's entirely in the style of the first chapters, but I hope to work that out with practice and such. In other news, those of you wondering bout plot advancement and pacing, I will simply remind/warn you that this is fluff. Lot's and lot's of fluff, with maybe a hint or two of plot when I feel like it.

Anyways. Hope you enjoy the chapter. Feel free to check out my other stuff~ (I'll fully admit I wish I had more feed back on the Barragan One-shot, soo reviews and thoughts on that may incentive me to write more of this faster) {And yes, I know I'm evil. Why do you think I have 3+ stories going on at once.}

Regardless~ See you all later and have fun~