Wandering the tightly packed streets of any major city you will find them. People of elvish cast but far different in demeanor. They are shorter and thinner than most elves, with eyes the color of a winter storm. Dressed in a mish mash of styles borrowed from a dozen different cultures and topped with heavy leather tradesmans clothes, they seek for adventure and experiences with relish. They are Steam Elves, and unlike their rustic rural cousins, Steam Elves embrace the urban sprawl. They revel in the mix of ideas, collecting gems and gears. Bits of string and scarves.
They merge Dwarven engineering with Elven mage craft with astounding success, crafting sky ships and magic guns. No Steam Elf will ever except “because, that’s just the way it is” as an answer. Anything they put themselves towards they must discover every nuance of it and mash it into something else. They are swashbuckling tinkerers, with a zest for life, wandering in search of something, or just for the hell of it. A wandering troop of them resembles a band of clockwork gypsies.
These adventurous folks, while risk takers, are not stupid slack wits governed by the merest impulse. They are usually very thoughtful, sometimes a little manic. Different moods for different times. If they want some serious discussion of craft they go to a Dwarven smith, if they want circular argument then they will seek an Elven philosopher and, if they want a party it is to the Humans they go.
Elven purists say that instead of being reborn with the normal Elven spirit, the spirits of Steam Elves come from the border realms between the elemental plane of water and fire, and are not truly Elves. Steam Elf philosophers respond with, “All Elves are primordial spirits become unto flesh, nothing is more primordial than the basic elements. Or, to put it another way, PPPHHHLLLBTT!”