"A Banquet of Gold" (TG for entry)

[Ishmasil]

The Sultan paced sat upon his throne, made out of pure gold, and lined with silver and backed with platinum. A servant fanned him, and another polished the the throne.
When Furuk's favorite servant entered, the Sultan stroked his big graying beard and said, "Leave us, my loyal subjects." When they left he adressed his favorite servant, Jerunder.
"Are the seating arrangements ready, my friend?" he asked.
"Yes, Great Sultan. I would humbly ask that you come with me to inspect the great dining hall, to be sure that it is to your liking." He bowed.
Furuk puffed upon his hookah, strawberry pipe-tobacco wafting up and creating a relaxing fragrance in the throne room.
"I trust you, Jerunder."
The servant beamed, ecstatic to be adressed by his real name. "Yes, Great Sultan, yes." He bowed again, stayng low until he backed from the throne room, the guards shutting the big double-doors behind him.

It was a warm day, even by Ishmasilite standards, but a nice day. The Elite Ishmalitian Warrior Guardsmen stood stolid outside of the great palace, awaiting the arrival of the guests for the banquet.
A diplomat stood there, and wiped the sweat from his brow with a napkin.
He looked to the the palace, smiled, then looked to the sky, and smiled. He prayed to the gods and thanked them for his fortune to be able to be in such a place.

[Lineale]

Gabriel Stone arrived at the Palace exactly four minutes ahead of schedule. He had expected to be the first one there, and looked out the window excitedly. This was his first expedition on foreign relations outside of the country. It seemed as if just yesterday he had only been a messenger boy, coming in on the President in a time of weakness, and comforting him. Now, he was basically the second most powerful man in Lineale. Thats a scary thought, really... he thought to himself.

He got out of the limo, with his one bodyguard in tow. He didn't think the bodyguard actually have any weapons, but the guy was huge so...He'll probably just crush the guys head between his thumb and pinky...

He stepped out and reached out his hand towards the diplomat standing there. "Heylo, and how do you do? I'm Gabriel Stone. Pleasure to meet you."

[Ishmasil]

The diplomat took his hand and bowed. He straightened back and smiled. "I am fine, and this is a glorious day. Please, go on inside. You will be allowed to wander until the banquet."

[Jimanistan]

By God, it's hot...

A young man walked from a taxi cab, after paying the driver appropriately, and moved in the direction of the Palace. It was quite impressive, even by Jimani architectural standards, although his cultural bias led him to decide it a bit too bland, a little too imposing. He was altogether too overwhelmed by the heat, however, to truly appreciate the aesthetic merits of the structure.

From the cold, northern fringes of Rifirn province, he was ill-adapted to the heat of the local climate. His three-piece suit (which was more or less standard dress for Jimani diplomats) did little to help the situation. As he approached the local man (apparently the professional greeter), he straightened out his short-cropped black hair, before stepping forward. He bowed his head politely, offering his right hand.

"Salvano, I am Gregory Petrasa," he said in a stiff, but polite, tone, "from the Diplomatic Corps of the Socialist Republic of Jimanistan. I am here for the banquet."

[Ishmasil]

He took the Jimani's hand, and bowed.
"We are humbled by your presence. Please, proceed inside and feel free to wander until the banquet begins." He eyd the sweat upon his brow.
"Just ask any of the servants to give you any drink you might want. It is much cooler inside, I assure you." He smiled.