“A wight? How bad could it beEEEEEEAAAAAAGGGHHHPUTITOUTPUTITOUTPUTITOUT!!!”
—Every high-level
adventurer ever
Any adventurer who mistakes a winterwight for a frost wight
is in for a nasty surprise. This negative
energy-infused undead is truly a next-level threat—understandable, given that
previous versions have showed up in places like the 3.0 Epic Level Handbook or in the service of Acererak.
And the surprise factor isn’t a bad way to deploy a
winterwight. They aren’t geniuses
by any means (Int 11), so only the most exceptional examples would ever be the
big bad guy at the end of the adventure.
(That’s more a job for a lich or tzitzimitl.) But as spoilers and level bosses, they're outstanding—and
scary. They're the thing you have
to get through before you face the big bad guy…provided they don’t bang you up
so bad you call it a night. Winterwights
are tough enough (channel resistance, DR, SR, etc.) to soak up a party’s
resources, and the first time a player finds her PC erupting with blightfire
and burning through Con, the whole table is going to freak out…especially if
they thought defeating that icy skeleton was just going to cost a channel
attempt or two.
There is at least one
city in Hell ruled by winterwights.
Jealous of the infernal dukes’ control of balefire, a grasping count
tried to harness the Negative Energy Plane for a weapon of his own. He was destroyed instantly and Hell
itself encysted the city in ice to seal off the rupture. But the count’s lieutenants survived as
winterwights, who rule over a now-frigid city of ice devils, wraiths, and
rime-covered lemures.
Trapped on another
world, a party of adventurers tries a desperate gambit to get home. Rather than planet-hop, they will plane-hop, sailing through the Deep
Shadow. But unlike space, the
umbral sea is not empty. Chunks of
black ice—half-iceberg, half-asteroid—float in the blackness, and ghost ships
crewed by hatewraiths board and slay at will.
There is a blizzard
so powerful it exists in three times at once—during a mammoth migration
from prehistory, a record-breaking medieval wolf winter (so named because of
the winter wolves that rule the streets), and a far-future siege where
rifle-bearing soldaty lay siege to a
city of fascist tieflings and frost giants. In the whiteout conditions of the blizzard, the time streams
mix and merge, with bands of soldiers as likely to stumble upon a pack of
worgs, a smilodon, or a devil-possessed tank. The key to escaping the blizzard is to warm its heart—the
icy heart of a winterwight no less.
—Pathfinder Bestiary 2
283
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