The Namur are a vainglorious species, deeming themselves the god-kings, queens, and crowns of Azamora. Their capital is the crown jewel of the continent, a well-positioned hub for trade and culture alike. They fight an ageless war with the actual godly beings of the universe, the Shedim, but the cat-like Namur are solidly sure of their sharp wit. Unbeknownst to these would-be divine catfolk, there are many that lurk in the shadows that are just ruthless and hungry for power.
Prideful and self-indulgent, even the lowest class Namur is considered far above any other species' highest ranking official. They are one of the few species to take and utilize human technology to its fullest, but only as an end to justify the means of complete and utter domination of Azamora. Human innovations are highly coveted secrets. Namur think themselves excellent at keeping them.
Naturally silver-tongued, Namur place emphasis on the art of wordplay, but also greatly enjoy all refined arts, such as painting, music, dance, and cuisine. The standard for being well-spoken, well-read orators, bards, and conversationalists, most are at a doctorate level of intelligence or above (for human standards). They hold court for theatre and discourse alike, constantly honing their expertise with language. The key to a Namur's power over others is its riddles, and so it is an essential skill.
The downside to their high intellect is that they must be constantly stimulated. A bored Namur will gradually become more and more destructive until they go mad, hurting themselves and those around them. They keep each other entertained with complex, nuanced pastimes that focus on creativity and ingenuity, arguably obsessive over small details other species would overlook. Most have dabbled in some kind of art. Redundant tasks and busywork make a Namur extremely, lethally uncomfortable, leading them to push unsightly jobs onto servants and slaves.
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