Lans did not, in fact, have much knowledge of his blood. He had always considered himself a human by most measures and only Orc by physical prowess. Compared to his Human classmates, he never needed to exert himself too hard to outdo the best among them. But now, as he had so rarely experienced, he noted the distinct difference between him and the Hosts of Tusks. Tougher, larger, and brimming with vigor and might, the Orcs began to test his skills as a Terror Knight. He felt both an intense urge to prove that his speed and technique could overcome any of their brutish brawling as well as an utter craving to beg them to endow him with their blessings and training. He was entrapped in his own identity. 

"My Lord... ah... Councillor Graft... Blood of Sarm," Lans ventured forth with trepidation, "I am Lans of Castle Hannery, West of Men. I am known among the warriors of men as Lans the Ghukzoul... a term thrust upon me for many reasons." 

Lans took a short bow and immediately regretted it.

"I have three requests to plead: Firstmost, I would request any and all support for finding my father Lord Hannery. Any details on his whereabouts or aids to find him would be dear to me; secondmost, in whatever capacity is possible, I beseech you for aid in the Rite. I was advised by a shaman that I should undergo the harshest trial you may muster as I am far beyond the age; thirdmost, I request training with your best warriors to test my skills and to learn from my blood."

Lans half stifled a breath of relief but then decided that since he had gone so far...

"My Lord. I am sure it is obvious that I am no Orc. Nor do my mannerisms agree with Orc culture. And with all that has happened, I seek counsel from your wisest. I no longer know who I am. As a fourth request, I seek wisdom from the Hosts of Tusks."

Lans dropped to his knees and hoped.