A wretched entity of the frozen lands, the WinterKill is the remnant of a mortal left to die in despair and endless cold.
There are many dangers at the poles and in the icy mountians of the world, but few dangers are harder to survive then an attack from an Ice Ghoul, a shadow-spirit whose very touch can be deadly.
The accepted mode of getting otherwise unobtainable information is to go visit the cranky old hermit living in the mountains. It's just the sensible thing to do. So, naturally, everyone takes their monthly excursion to the hermit's hovel to consult him on everything, from lock-jaw to lovesickness, necromancers to nasal viruses.
Now, if everyone's always visiting the poor old hermit, there's going to be an enormous queue... "Wellcome to the Hermitt's Hovele, Please Take Ye a Number and Have Ye a Seate" reads the sign outside the packed dwelling.
Imagine the poor hermit, having retreated into the mountains to escape this precise situation...