Ah the inspirations!
Let's start with ol' captain Hoihe Dacino.
He's somewhat of a nationalistic character of mine. He's based on a number of people, so let's not waste any time but I must bring attention to the fact that he was 27 years old when he arrived on the Sword Coast, 2 years younger than Han Solo in episode IV and the exact age as Petőfi Sándor, Hungarian national hero and warrior-poet.
As those reading Hoihe's journal might note, I try to give the vibe of a romanticism era poet with his poem, mostly going for the expression, instead of strong and hard rules. This is mostly due to his very personality being strongly based on what I know of Petőfi Sándor (Alexander Petrovich if anglicised). In short, Petőfi was a great believer in freedom of all, in equality of men. He was also greatily disturbed if he had to stay in one place, inactive, wanting to be a big player in the game that changes the world.
The poems most strongly describing Hoihe from Petőfi are (translations by WM. N. LOEW):
"One thought that bothers me", written 4 months before him reciting his poem of "On your feet, fellow Hungarians!". Its applicability to Hoihe waned as time passed and waxed occasionally. After meeting Soora and their bond strengthened, it became less and less relevant in its message. Suffice to say, in terms of importance, Hoihe prefers love and happiness over glorious deaths in name of freedom.
THE THOUGHT TORMENTS ME.
EGY GONDOLAT BÁNT ENGEMET.
The thought torments me sore, lest I
Upon a pillowed couch should die, -
Should slowly fade like the fair flower
Whose heart the gnawing worms devour;
Or, like the light in some void room,
Should faintly flicker into gloom.
Let no such ending come to me,
Oh God! but rather let me be
A tree, through which the lightning shoots,
Or which the strenuous storm uproots;
Or like the rock from hill out-torn
And thundering to the valley borne!
When every nation wearing chains
Shall rise and seek the battle plains,
With flushing face shall wave in fight
Their banners blazoned in the light:
"For liberty!"
Their cry shall be -
Their cry from east to west,
Till tyrants be depressed.
There shall I gladly yield
My life upon the field.
There shall my heart's last blood flow out,
And I my latest cry shall shout.
May it be drowned in clash of steel
In trumpets' and in cannons' peal;
And o'er my corse
Let tread the horse,
Which gallops home from victory's gain
And leaves me trodden mid the slain.
My scattered bones shall be interred
When all the dead are sepulchred -
When, amid slow funereal strains,
Banners shall wave o'er the remains
Of heroes who have died for thee,
O world-delivering Liberty!
This one mostly applies as Hoihe's so called "Dacino's Duty" always responding with "Forward!" even if he wanted to give up. Replace fatherland with liberty and elves
WAR-SONG.
CSATADAL.
The trumpets blare, drums beat a call;
Our boys go forth to fight or fall:
Forward!
The bullets whistle, sabres clash,
This fills the Magyar with firm dash:
Forward!
May freedom's flag wave on the height,
That all the world behold the sight:
Forward!
Unfurl the flag! the world should see
The proud inscription, "Liberty!"
Forward!
The world the Magyar's valor knows,
He bravely faces all his foes:
Forward!
A virtue God the Magyar gave;
He made his nature truly brave:
Forward!
Upon a gory ground I tread,
A comrade's blood has made it red:
Forward!
A hero he! can I be less?
Boldly I onward wish to press:
Forward!
If, even as cripples we be shot,
If even to die here be our lot:
Forward!
For thee our lives we freely give,
Dear Fatherland, then thou must live!
Forward!
And finally, although Hoihe never maintained "Born a man, be a man" in any bit (becoming a half-elven woman!), if taken metaphorically "Act valiantly, not for glory but for the deed itself", it is fitting perfectly.
IF BORN A MAN, THEN BE A MAN.
HA FÉRFI VAGY, LÉGY FÉRFI.
If born a man, then be a man,
And not a wretched grub
That pusillanimously bears
Fate's every knock and rub!
Fate is a cur that only barks
But fears a manly blow;
A man must ever ready be,
Bravely to meet his foe!
If born a man, then be a man,
And boast not of the fact;
More clear-tongued then Demosthenes
Are valiant deed and act.
Build up, destroy, but silent be
When done; make no display;
Just as the storm that does its work
Lulls and subsides away.
If born a man, then be a man,
Hold honor, faith, thine own;
Express them even if thy blood
Should for thy creed atone.
Forfeit thy life a hundred times
Ere thou thy word dost break;
Let all be lost, 'tis not too much
To pay for honor's sake.
If born a man, then be a man,
And bargain not away
Thy independence even for all
The great world's rich array.
Despise the knave, who sells himself,
The man who has his price!
"A beggar's staff and liberty"
Be ever thy device!
If born a man, then be a man,
Strong, brave and true as steel!
Then trust that neither man nor fate
Can crush thee'neath their heel.
Be an oak, which the hurricane
May shake and break and rend;
But ne'er possess the power its frame,
Or giant force to bend!
This one is the most fitting translation of the first poem into a post-soora era:
MY WIFE AND MY SWORD.
FELESÉGEM ÉS KARDOM.
Upon the roof a dove,
A star within the sky,
Upon my knees my love,
For whom I live and die;
In raptures I embrace
And swing her on my knees,
Just as the dewdrop sways
Upon the leaf of trees.
But why, you'll surely ask,
Kiss not her pretty face?
It is an easy task
To kiss while we embrace!
Many a burning kiss
I press upon her lip,
For such a heavenly bliss
I cannot now let slip.
And thus we pass our day,
I and my pretty wife,
Beyond all rare gem's ray
Is our gay wedded life.
A friend, my sword, it seems,
Does not like this at all,
He looks with angry gleams
Upon me from the wall.
Don't look on me, good sword,
With eyes so cross and cold,
There should be no discord
Between us, friends of old.
To women leave such things,
As green-eyed jealousy:
To men but shame it brings,
And you a man must be!
But then, if you would pause
To think who is my love,
You'd see you have no cause
At all me to reprove.
She is the sweetest maid,
She is so good and true;
Like her God only made,
I know, but very few.
If thee, good sword, again
Shall need our native land,
To seek the battle-plain
Will be my wife's command.
She will insist that I
Go forth, my sword, with thee,
To fight, if need to die,
For precious liberty!
However, he's not based entirely on the Hungarian national hero. In many ways, I tried to use Han Solo as an inspiration for the personality. A cocky, over-confident fool who went from neutral to good. Hoihe's original form on the coast was pretty much just self-preservation. Laitae's, Wendel's and Mealir's influenced made him into the chaotic good fellow she is today.
And of course, why did I make a character who hates being a human? In Hungarian literature, the hero or their companions transforming into higher beings is a rather common motif. Csongor and Tünde, Toldi, János Vitéz all end with the female protagonist sort of becoming an elf or fey. However, this is sort of slapped on as an after-though as the original reasoning was to take gender dysphoria and translate it into something fitting for the Forgotten Realms setting as for a decently leveled adventurer (just like 5-6 levels in arcane spellcasting is enough), the question of gender is pretty meaningless. Alter Self being an easy spell, Permanency not that far off and the lack of passive ability change make it pretty much 100% true. Would have been too easy to do. Instead I replaced it with "racial dysphoria", with him not knowing what he wants other than "not-human." It turned out to be right what I wanted with greatily extending this questline compared to the previous which any wizard character could have solved.
As for why I made it that he became she lately? Well... roll of dice!
