Ivorybones was dangerous, though not many would assume that from a first glance. The guy carried a certain amount of confidence and no doubt had a level head upon those broad shoulders of his, looked genuinely nice and spoke politely a majority of the time, but dangerous potential lurked just under the skin he puppeted. He was a force to be reckoned with, and when one made an enemy of him, he did whatever he could within his power to make sure the other party sorely regretted their decision.
The Exiles had been a place of residence once upon a time. He even wore their brand upon his shoulder, a sign of "loyalty" to their chaotic cause. It meant nothing to him. Whatever sense of camaraderie he had formed with his former roguesmates were ultimately shallow, used for his own benefit, but for what reason did he leave? It was one he doesn't feel the need to disclose to others. It was none of their business what went on in his private life, but it wasn't anything personal. Of course, he felt like the Exiles might take it differently. They were a family
( a twisted, murderous family ) and it was a family where he didn't fit in, no matter how much he killed and captured and tortured in their name. He had never been one of them and never will be despite that brand he wore upon his shoulder. His loyalty had been a lie, simply enough.
Even as he stepped over the border, he cares not for the memories he had here. He was originally spurred on to join here when he had heard his brother had been here, only to be abandoned. Henri had came, but he didn't stay, and Alastair had came and went as well. He had lost his reason to stay around in the Exiles the moment the other Leonidas' had up and disappeared. It just took him a while to tie up loose ends. He wasn't here to finalize that, however. No, the Exiles had made a mistake and the maltese tiger was more than determined to make it right. Wind Haven would certainly look down upon this, and Cassiopeia was probably more than willing to throw him out of the clan if she found out he went to "cause trouble," but as far as he was concerned, this was totally warranted. The peace-loving Haveners could shove it.
"Oi," He calls into the canyon, sweltering heat beating upon his silvery-blue fur, "I'm returning after an hiatus. Anyone around?" He would bait someone into approaching him before lashing out - after all, he wore their brand, did he not? He made an effort to hide the mountain's scent by just rolling about in a little more clove than usual ( the spice was the only reason he wasn't charging in at this very moment, lucky them ).