Name: Ser Gregor Hill "the Sly" formerly Master Gregor.
Age:27
Affiliation: Formally no one. Informally, House Lannister.
Appearance: It would be forgiven if one would believe that the father of Gregor would be Jaime Lannister. Like the renowned knight, he has a rather striking appeareance, with the vibrant green eyes of the Lannisters and a fair face, crowned by golden hair which he keeps neatly shorn. He also posseses a small, trimmed goatee. His bone structure and build are also similar, if a bit shorter and thinner than the renowned Kingslayer. Sir Gregor prefers to dress in comfortable, somber clothes, a throwback to his studies as Maester, but he finds no trouble in donning armor when he needs to. He even has designed his own crest, a red book trespassed by a golden sword.
Profession: Bon-Vivant, hedge knight, former maester.
Equipment: Gregor owns a worn and used half plate with no decorations, as well as a longsword. He also owns a steed and a kite shield with his personal coat of arms.
Skills: Gregor is a trickster, and he knows it. Of quick wit and tongue, he knows how to answer japes with japes, offer some food for thought, and even woo ladies. Being the son of Tyrion, he also shares with him an unquenchable thirst for knowledge as well as a keen eye for administration. Unlike Tyrion, however, it seems that Gregor takes very much like his uncle, Jaime Lannister, having inherited a good sword arm, for when every trickery he knows doesn't cut it (many people are surprised by this fact). He is fond of his iron link (War mastery), Yellow Gold link (Math and finances) and Silver(medicine) links he earned as a maester, and although he also knows how to handle ravens aswell, he professes a reluctance to deal with the little beasties who defecate on everything and everyone. Unlike his father, he's completely hopeless at Cyvasse, funnily enough.

Biography:Gregor was born in a brothel in the Westerlands, due to a certain well known propensity of Lannisters towards women of dubious morality, and his mother being one of the usual picks for them. The choice of his name was rather ironic, as if somehow they were trying to name him after the Mountain in a phenomal bout of bad taste. Being baseborn, he became acquainted with manual labor pretty soon in his life, and while he still continued to live in the whorehouse, it was trusted of him to find another way to feed his mouth. He became a gopher for the different businesses in the neightbourhood, thanks to his good memory and intelligent dispostion. This caught the attention of a charitable Maester who was on his way to Lannisport, and offered him to take the young lad as apprentice in the Citadel, claiming his wits were a rare find.

And thus a new era for the Hill bastard opened. Gregor claimed that when he arrived at the Citadel everything seemed shiny and wonderful, but as years passed it would dull its luster into apathy. Gregor nevertheless was a model student, and rarely complained. He diligently applied himself to his tasks, discovering his love for the gold and the sword along the way, as well as finding extremely useful the ins and outs of the human body. However, as he grew, he also found out that apples don't fall too far from the tree. He craved the company of the fair gender, and his cravings only went worse as time passed. Inexplicably, he found himself most attracted to the one forbidden fruit of Oldtown, the novices of the motherhouse.

One day, it all shattered in tiny pieces. Emboldened by his feat of forging the Maester's chain at a young age and harried by the constant bullying of his peers while he was training, he decided to cave in to his base desires and target a novice called Rhaenys. The poor girl had no chance. The combination of not seeing a lot of men in her life, her innocence, Gregor's looks, and his quick tongue made the woman all but pledge her eternal love to the newfound maester and offer her maidenhood to him. However, when the deed was done, she could not keep her mouth shut when pressed, and Gregor's punishment was to be sent to Skagos, a remote place in the lands of Westeros. The Faith of Seven insisted in more punishment, but they were rebuked.

The young man was at a fork in the road of his life. On one hand, he had talent to be a maester, but on the other, the thrill of seeking the opposite gender was an intoxicating drug to him. He wondered what to do, and if Skagosi would truly even have some fair women to woo. Sunken in his thoughts, he was approached by several cutthroats on his way out of the ways of Oldtown, no doubt a gift from the scorned Septas. They thought he was an easy prey, one of those bookworms and pencilpushers. They understimated his sword arm. And before they knew, three of them laid dead, two more clutching their wounds. Gregor didn't hold back when he defended himself, as his blood-stained clothes attested.

When other people arrived at the commotion Gregor was in a state of daze. Surrounded by the three corpses of the people he had killed, with the rest of the thugs running away from him, a bloodied blade on his hand. It struck like a revelation upon him. He could simply not part with the thrill. The thrill of discovering new things, but also the thrill of seducing a fair maiden, and the thrill of clashing blades. He decided he could not abide to choose one, and he would rather have all of them. Smiling, he took out of his chain from his neck, uttering an apology to the other Maester that had assisted him to reach the gates and was on his way back to the Citadel, but had returned upon hearing the conmotion. Gregor weakly smiled saying that perhaps a maester's chain wasn't what he fancied in life, and he left.

Suddenly turned a vagabond with little on his own, he struck an odd friendship with a hedge knight, Ser Milford the Rat, which was perhaps, even poorer than Gregor himself. Both exchanged tales of their lives, and realized that they could help eachother. Milford would coach Gregor's sword arm and grant him knighthood to let the young man earn a living, and in turn Gregor would use his medical knowledge to alleviate the ravages of old age of the man.

The mutual association was short, even if fruitful, and after knighting Gregor in the celebration of winning some prize in a tourney, the old man died of a massive hemorrhage due to drinking too much. Gregor buried his mentor under a tree, using parts of his belongings as gravestone, but he kept the horse and the prize money. Of course, given his situation, he knew he had to do something to avoid losing all again, as money attracted all sorts of bandits. He decided to head for King's Landing, a massive hub of commerce on its own, a place where he could also earn some coin as knight... and most important, a place where Lannister nobles lurked aswell. After several financial moves, he managed to buy a modest whorehouse to become a financial tether and base of operations (and also to satisfy the cravings of the flesh), all while he waited for a chance to gain information about his past.

Notes: He also owns a brothel in King's landing. Tyrion would be proud.