King of the Hill

[Tusky]

I use a salt cannon to dehydrate and dessicate the nymphs, and guard against any snail or slug based attacks.

My hill.

[Jubal]

Side note: why isn't there a major salt based supervillain? So many "are you just feeling salty about this, Count Saline?" terrible puns on offer.

I start a salt and vinegar crisp factory and turn all your salt into delicious crisp products, leaving you defenceless. I then use the assault cannon that you probably intended to order when you got a salt cannon, and conquer the hill with actual artillery.

My hill!

[Glaurung]

After long silence, I encounter an abandoned hill on my travels, adorned with an unexpected crisp factory and assault cannon. In the absence of any occupants, I move in myself, bring the crisp factory back into production, and ready the cannon for any necessary defence.

[Jubal]

I encounter an abandoned crisp factory, defended by rusted cannon, a relic of an age long past. I sell it to the National Trust, who defend it with trained guard hedgehogs and make me the site manager.

My hill!

[Tusky]

I earn the trust of the national trust's regional manager. I persuade them to allow me access to the premesis on the hill so that I can run a sponsored bake sale.

My nefarious intentions become clear when the bake sale opens. Instead of hungry punters coming up the hill, it is a pack of hedgehog hating poodles. They scare away the unprepared guard hedgehogs.

Along with my new pack of guard poodles, I consolidate my defenses with the cakes, which it turns out are not edible cakes at all, but motion detecting automated turrets which are programmed to destroy any intruders.

[Jubal]

For your initial line, the ranged cake-turret defences, the answer is simple: with them being automatic and motion-detecting, they will not manage to distinguish between a real enemy and a fake one. Thus I simply make a large number of papier mache copies of myself, with the help of Neil Buchanan from classic British children's TV show Art Attack, and keep sending the infinite number of ones he turned out to have made earlier into the fray until your cakes run out of bullets.

As for the poodles, I considered simply throwing a stick very far from the hill but I'm unconvinced they'd bother to chase it, so instead I'll simply throw in a Best Dog In Show rosette much in the manner of Eris' apple in Greek Mythology and watch as the united poodle front collapses in the face of their own vanity.

I will now seek to defend the hill with giant papier mache walls and cardboard cut-outs, because Neil Buchanan needs something to do these days.