SciFi/Fantasy First Line Game

Tia Inkman plucked a myreskeet from the teeming bucket and ran her finger over its cool, slippery abdomen.

Why was Sally's solution to everything a barfight?

This was not the first, nor the last, time Klaxor Halfleg would defend himself from the Grur with only an old pillow and some stinky cheese.

"Lady Renaut, the Brotherhood has already sacrificed so much to the Cartography that we are scarce able to keep the braziers aflame."

EuanH. Liked that one.

It was the Ninetieth Summer of Pale, the year of the Green Fever, when two women in veils came to paint the mark on my door.

My cat looked up at me with his big, pink, irradiated eyes.

If you've never seen a Scotsman surf into a wormhole before, then you might also be surprised that he was carrying a pair of nunchuks.

"Yes, yes, stop screaming, I'm growing you a new leg, aren't I?"

The ravens woke me early in the morning, grumbling as usual that their coffee wasn't already on the table.

Hans Kurt stuck his pickaxe into a thick clump of rusty moon rock with a gravelly thunk.

A merry little surge of electricity piped by automatic alarm from the mood organ beside his bed awakened Rick Deckard.

As it turns out, creating a constrained region free from the laws of physics is harder than it sounds.

Myrtle firmly shook my bloodied hand, then tossed it back at me.

Resounding mockery from the Pit's gamblers drowned out the sound of Hemlie's ogrish body hitting the bloodied ground.

I was shocked to find out that his gambling habit paid off in a mysterious way.....

He had yet to find a solution that didn't involve goats and naked gods.

The giant bee was screaming something about their honey being stolen by dragons.

The control spire crumbled amid the rebels' shouts of victory.

The kale or any biodegradable can preserve during fossilization...

I'm cheating and stealing a line from a stale work I had started bu have since abandoned:

"Sewta squinted between the etchings as light refracted through his exterior display screen, scratched from countless shards space debris bombarding his one man shuttle."

The tribe grew weak, for it had started to drink Rhilor milk instead the clear water of God's spring.

Gemma the geranium had dreaded the day of her transplant for weeks.