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  <title>Oakville</title>
  <subtitle>The People of Oakville, PA</subtitle>
  <author>
    <name>The People of Oakville</name>
  </author>
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  <updated>2007-12-25T02:01:00Z</updated>
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    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:oakville_pa:1009</id>
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    <title>Christmas Eve at the O'Rourkes' house</title>
    <published>2007-12-25T02:01:00Z</published>
    <updated>2007-12-25T02:01:00Z</updated>
    <content type="html">((OOC: Open to anyone who might have an invitation to the O'Rourke-Ryan Christmas Eve dinner and gift exchange.))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Niall opens the oven and leans over to check the turkey. **&lt;i&gt;Almost done. Good. And it smells heavenly.&lt;/i&gt;** He shuts the oven door again and checks the clock. **&lt;i&gt;They should be here soon.&lt;/i&gt;**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He pitches his voice to carry. "Ian, you have those chairs set up?"</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:oakville_pa:531</id>
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    <title>Somewhere in Oakville</title>
    <published>2007-11-26T02:18:24Z</published>
    <updated>2007-11-26T19:06:33Z</updated>
    <content type="html">((This takes place after the November 17 tabletop session.))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looks around and makes sure no one is around, then slips into the bathroom. Opening the box, she reads the directions three times before following them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ten minutes later, she stares at the blue line, her heart pounding. **&lt;i&gt;What am I going to do now?&lt;/i&gt;**</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:oakville_pa:455</id>
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    <title>The Sept of the Three Old Oaks - Waiting for Henry's report</title>
    <published>2007-03-19T12:29:00Z</published>
    <updated>2007-03-19T12:29:00Z</updated>
    <content type="html">((OOC: This post takes place after &lt;a href="http://the-ryan-twins.livejournal.com/2067.html"&gt;this one&lt;/a&gt;.))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigdrifa "Rune-Wise" Kleinmann stands calmly in the assembly area. A chill wind pulls at stray strands of her ash-blonde hair that have escaped her braid, but she doesn't appear to feel the cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her keen gaze scans the horizon. **&lt;i&gt;Where is he?&lt;/i&gt;**</content>
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