There are children in the morning...
Pucks are tiny winged terrors, barbarous and beautiful and utterly fascinated by every aspect of existence. They are prolific creators, their inland strongholds oases of stunning artwork carved out of the very stuff of the islands. It is for puck handiwork that the young races have ever risked coming to the lands of the elves.
The puck dress themselves in elaborate creations carved out of the jungles. They petrify petals and wear them as jewellery, bleach the bones of the islands vicious mega fauna with dyes of vivid colour and wield them as weapons. They stitch together human sized clothing of such detail that they are prized by the nobility the world over.
The puck are notorious for their self flagellating behaviour. Their limitless imagination for self expression does not limit itself to creative urges. They have little impulse control, and destructive and wanton behaviour pours forth when they are struck by the need to break something. They torture themselves with elaborate body modifications, mortifying the skin and adjusting their souls, remaking themselves with magic and crude surgery to better fit the self image that their fickle mind has thrown up.
Whilst it is a rare elf who leaves the islands, the puck are driven by a deep and powerful wanderlust. When traders arrive upon the shores of the island they will inevitably be leaving with a pack of puck, regardless of whether they would like to or not. Puck are fecund and lustful beings, but they have no concept of family ties or anything properly approaching duty or commitment. Their loyalties are reserved for those that they choose.