Slyphs: Dancers in the Clouds
Beautiful nymphs of the air, sylphs change shape like the clouds to trick or inspire those who look upon them.
In the skies over the land of Faerie, the clouds rapidly shift shapes, transforming from castles into dragons into maidens fair. Visitors to the Feywild wonder at these transformations, seldom realizing that they are witnessing beautiful air nymphs at play.
Sylphs glide through the quiet forests of Faerie on dragonfly wings, borne on a whisper of wind. Shifting garments woven from strands of mist shroud their supple forms, and trees bend their green crowns or wave their leaves like pennants in deference to the passing wind maidens. When they leave the forests, sylphs skirt the edges of the sky where it meets the world. In the winds they live without worry, far above the wars and terrors that plague the earthly realm.
Daughters of the Wind
In the beginning of the world, the brothers of the wind frolicked with the four seasons, and from their union the nymphs emerged. But the youngest of the brothers, Susurrus, did not follow his kin to the world, for he was timid and shy, and wary of the primordials’ tumultuous creation. While his brothers ranged free, quiet Susurrus lingered between the heavens and the earth. There, in the dawning light of the world, he met a gentle daughter of the sky called Mist, who took him by the hand and led him to tranquil places where his voice could be heard. There, Susurrus whispered his love for the sky’s fair daughter. They wed beneath a quiet waterfall, and their children were the airy sylphs.
Nymphs of Air and Cloud
Sylphs are cousins to nymphs. Unlike those daughters of the seasons, sylphs are descended from the sky and wind, and thus they have strong ties to elemental air. Some call the Elemental Plane of Air home and are thus elemental creatures, while those who remain in Faerie manifest the magical characteristics of the true fey.
Sylphs are partly made of insubstantial air and shifting cloud, allowing them to transform themselves on a whim. Those that master air and wind magic can shift into cloud form and spread across the sky, or condense to become as tiny as possible.
In all their lives, sylphs rarely touch the ground. They stay out of sight and reach, avoiding confrontation whenever possible, although a powerful sylph roused to anger can call on the furious storm winds and lightning that are her birthright.
Bard's Tale: To Hold the Wind
There was a lonely young shepherd who loved to watch the sky. As he lay in the heather, he imagined he saw the shape of a fair maiden dancing among the clouds. “If only she were mine,” the shepherd sighed.
One day a storm came, pelting the pasture with hailstones. When the storm had passed, the shepherd discovered a beautiful sylph lying in the field, her dragonfly wings tattered and full of holes. Her name was Levene, and the storm had broken her cloud and cast her down.
In the weeks that followed, as the shepherd nursed the sylph back to health, Levene fell in love with her savior. “Stay with me,” the shepherd said, “for I have loved you since first I saw you.”
Levene promised to stay on one condition. “I am a daughter of the wind,” said she, “and I must always have my freedom.” And because he loved her, the shepherd agreed.
The sylph stayed with him, and their love grew as a gentle breeze fans spark to flame. But Levene was a spirit of the air and often traveled to faraway skies, and the shepherd soon became lonely again. Many solitary nights he thought about what he could do to keep his love at home, and at last he decided on a solution. “Marry me,” he said to her. And because Levene loved him, the sylph agreed.
On the day they were married, the shepherd slipped a ring of cold iron onto his wife’s finger, for he knew that only iron could bind the fey. “Now we shall finally be together,” he said.
They remained happy for a time. But on windy days when Levene looked to the sky, her smile vanished like the sun behind a storm cloud. Slowly she began to diminish, and soon she dwindled into a frail wisp of a thing.
“Why do you fade away so?” asked the shepherd. “Are you not happy by my side?”
“Happy, my love, but not free.”
“You roamed so far I feared you might never return.”
“To love another is to hold the wind,” said the sylph, “never knowing which direction it will blow.”
Ashamed, the shepherd removed the iron ring from Levene’s finger. “You are free to come or go as you choose,” he said.
A great gust of wind filled the shepherd’s hovel, and the sylph kissed him once upon the lips before the wind bore her out the door and away.
The shepherd ran after her. He reached out to hold her, but the wind swept Levene from his arms. He called out her name, but the wind tore it from his lips. Again and again he called, until her name was only a cry, like the bleating of a lost sheep—until his voice was lost in the tempest that carried the sylph ever farther away from him.
Playful Wind Maidens
Like other nymphs, sylphs live to play, though as fey of the air, their games shift as swiftly as their whims. In the forests of the Feywild, sylphs dance to the pipes of satyrs or shrink to the size of pixies and attend merry balls in the toadstool rings sacred to the wee fey. On sunny afternoons they traverse the Faerie skies like dancers on an infinite stage, turning pirouettes as they change from swans into songbirds, then back into winged maidens. At night they slip between the stars and fill the constellations with ever-changing shapes.
Above the forest, sylphs sometimes ride cumulonimbus clouds across the sky like chariots, bringing thunderstorms and lightning to the world wherever they travel. During a storm, they might sing lamentations for the sorrows of the world. Shepherds can sometimes just make out their voices keening over the highlands and pastures.
Fortune Makers
Sylphs especially enjoy their own particular diversion, which they call the “Game of Omens.” A sylph disguises herself as a cloud formation until she observes an interesting creature on the ground far below. She shifts her cloudy body into some recognizable shape, holding it just long enough for the subject to notice, then releases the form and drifts away to hide and observe what happens next. The sylph listens with delight as the creature relates its experience to others, declaring it to be a portent. Cunning sylphs first eavesdrop in disguise on mortal conversations and then form their cloud shapes accordingly. In this way they manipulate creatures toward suggestions of the sylphs’ devising—altering the path of a subject’s life without the creature realizing it is being controlled.
Sylph Names
Sylph give themselves their own names after they reach adulthood. The majority choose either nature-themed names or names based in the Sylvan or Elven tongue. A sylph considers its name its most prized possession, and will correct those who cannot pronounce it correctly. Extreme stress or trauma can cause a sylph to change her name to fit her new experiences.
Given Names: Meridian, Thistle, Elaina, Aerthoniel, Magnolia, Briar, Estrella, Snow, Ionia, Laerwen
Surnames: Meadowdance, Ondonae, Elmfield, Foxlily, Willowriver, Muddylake, Sparklesong, Darkcloud, Neverblossom, Mallothion
Sylph Traits
As a member of the fey races, you have the following traits:
Ability Score Increase. Your Dexterity score increases by 2, and your Intelligence score increases by 1.
Alignment. Sylph are almost always goodly natured, but they have tempers and hold grudges more than most other fey.
Age. A slyph is "born" in the clouds as an adult, but amongst fey they are not considered mature until age 60. After entering adulthood, a sylph can live as long as the eldest of the elves.
Size. You are bigger than most fey, but slightly smaller than humans. Your size is Medium.
Speed. Your base walking speed is 30 feet.
Darkvision. Accustomed to the darkness of the sky, you have superior vision in dark and dim conditions. You can see in dim light within 60 feet of you as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it were dim light. You can't discern color in darkness, only shades of grey.
Faeriefolk. You cannot be put to sleep or aged by magic.
Lore of Tree and Branch. You have proficiency in the Nature skill.
Wings. You have a flying speed of 30 feet. You treat your carrying weight as half its normal based on your Strength score, and you cannot fly in medium or heavy armor. In addition, you’re acclimated to high altitude, including elevations above 20,000 feet and naturally adapted to cold climates, as described in chapter 5 of the Dungeon Master’s Guide.
Cloud Form. At 3rd level, you can use your action to transform yourself, along with everything you're wearing and carrying into a misty bank of clouds. You can remain in this form for up to a number of hours equal to half your level, spent in minute intervals.
While in this form, your flying speed is 10 feet, and you have no other movement options. You can't fall or be knocked prone, and you remain hovering in the air even when stunned or otherwise incapacitated. You can enter and occupy the space of another creature, but can't attack, cast spells, manipulate objects, speak, and objects you were carrying or holding can't be dropped, used, or otherwise interacted with.
You have resistance to nonmagical damage, and advantage on Strength, Dexterity, and Constitution saving throws while in this form. You can pass through small holes, narrow openings, and even mere cracks, though you treat liquids as though they were solid surfaces.
Languages. You can speak, read, and write Common, Sylvan, and Auran.