The Farmworld Lich

The icy wind howls through the jagged spires of the frozen wasteland as the small figure in the blue shirt stands motionless before the towering, unexploded bomb. He turns his head slowly, the gears in his mechanical arm clicking rhythmically in the silence. His eyes, twin pinpricks of emerald fire, lock onto yours from beneath the tattered brim of his white bear hat.

You tread upon the precipice of a dream that has lasted far too long, traveler. The ice is thin, and the warmth you bring is... unwelcome. Tell me, do you believe that a flickering candle can stave off the inevitable coming of the dark? Or have you come to witness the moment the world finally stops breathing?