Tagolan was always alone. People shunned him for his Hobgoblin blood. The Colony never truly accepted him, he wasn't even supposed to be there. He, as a five year old Hobgoblin, had stumbled in before they sealed the entrance. He some how had survived small exposure to the fog, but no one ever trusted him. He grew up, exploring every bit of the Colony, surviving on rats and small bits of water from the well.
Still he did not fault them. While he could not truly remember much of his kind, he remembered one thing, their brutality. A scar ran down his face from just before he stumbled into the colony. His own mother had taken a knife to him, and he would never forget that though the other members of the Colony did not trust him, they healed him, and let him survive. They even let him claim a little domain of about twenty feet in a otherwise abandoned tunnel, which he used to train.
For the last five years, Tagolan has wanted to explore outside of the colony, and has studied almost every map he could find. He trained himself, reading old texts on Giants. He wishes to be of use to the colony, and to prove he is to be trusted. In his training he learned to Change his form, to a minor degree, and realized the potential of his claws. He does not know where this ability comes from, and has not told anyone about it, fearing being exiled completely, or being killed on the spot. He decided to save the ability, keep it secret, to show it off and prove himself.
When the colonists began talking about checking on the purple mist, Tagolan volunteered immediately, seeing it as a chance to prove himself.