Though raised among an Abtati caravan as their own his exact parentage is a matter of debate. Unlike his family members he posses unusual eyes for an Abtati Elf. Dorin never felt any less loved for this, nor his powers which his mother seemed at a loss to explain. He lived amongst a tribe which some saw as a valued source of trade, others saw as unpredictable but necessary, and other still as unwanted criminals.

He was raised nomadically following a looping route through the sands. His tribe being of a type which engaged in trade both above board and which ferries black market goods across the desert. His tribe were of a hearty variety whose possessions were only those that could be easily carried via caravan. Dorin had never been one to agonize over such matters. Until a fateful evening when his caravan's stop in Maraan was extended longer than usual.
There a festival was taking place which Dorin had never attended before. It was filled with merriment and revelry from all manner of traders. Most importantly a visiting dance troupe who lead dancing through the streets.
This Dorin decided was what he had been waiting for his whole life.