You slog your way up the hillside, sweaty, muddy, and mildly annoyed that your bard insists on playing “epic quest music” on a kazoo. And then you see it: sprawled across the slope like a drunken picnic blanket is a hill giant. He’s snoring so loudly the sheep in the valley below are trying to harmonise. Every time he exhales, rocks tumble down the hill, and every time he inhales, small birds are sucked in like popcorn.
You think to yourself: Should I sneak past? Wake him? Nick his shoes? (They’re the size of fishing boats and smell like they’ve hosted a cheese festival in July.)
The giant scratches his belly, rolls over, and mutters something in his sleep. It sounds like: “Mum… five more minutes…”
You get the uncanny impression that disturbing him is a health hazard on par with licking a plugged-in toaster in the bath.
Big Sleepy Hill Giant (OSR / 5e Stats)
Armour Class: OSR 4; 5e 13 (hide armour, if you can call “bear skin with gravy stains” armour)
Hit Points: 44 (OSR) / 105 (10d12+40 in 5e, because giants apparently eat their vegetables)
Attack:
OSR: +7 to hit, 2d8+5 damage (giant club, a.k.a. “log with nails in it”)
5e: +8 to hit, reach 10 ft., 21 (3d8+8) bludgeoning damage (club), or improvised sheep (1d12 + “psychological trauma”)
Special:
Snooze Aura: Any creature within 20 ft. must save vs. Spells (OSR) or DC 13 Wis save (5e) or start yawning uncontrollably, imposing disadvantage on Stealth. Fail twice in a row and you fall asleep, dreaming of being a decorative gnome.
Somnambulant Swat: If woken suddenly, giant makes one free attack against whoever looks most like breakfast.
Flatulent Shockwave: Once per short rest, the giant rolls over and lets rip. Creatures within 15 ft. must save vs. Breath Weapon (OSR) / DC 15 Con save (5e) or take 2d6 poison damage and be knocked prone from the sheer gust.
What You Do Next
Sneak past? Roll Stealth. Fail, and he wakes up. Congratulations, you’ve just invented the world’s first human piñata.
Attack him while he sleeps? That’s called “being a jerk,” but hey, you do you. He will wake up, though, probably mid-hit, like an angry alarm clock with fists.
Steal his shoes? DC 20 Sleight of Hand. If you succeed, congratulations, you now own a canoe.
Hill Giant Wake-Up Reaction Table
(Roll a d6, or just pick whichever makes your players groan the most.)
1. The “Morning Breath Missile”
The giant yawns so wide you can see what he had for dinner last Tuesday. Everyone in a 30-ft cone must save vs. Death (OSR) / DC 14 Con save (5e) or take 1d6 poison damage and smell like onions for the rest of the adventure.
2. The “Somnambulant Hug”
The giant mistakes you for his childhood teddy bear. He rolls over and hugs you tightly. You take 2d6 bludgeoning damage per round until someone pries his arm off,or you suffocate in the snuggliest TPK ever.
3. The “Half-Awake Slap”
Still not fully conscious, the giant swats at you like you’re a fly. Roll a d6. He misses on a 1–3, but on a 4–6 you take a full club hit to the torso and fly 20 ft. away like a rejected pancake.
4. The “Sleep-Talk Confessional”
The giant mumbles secret fears, dreams, and shopping lists. PCs within earshot must save vs. Spells (OSR) / DC 13 Wis save (5e) or suffer psychic damage from knowing far too much about his foot fungus.
5. The “Explosive Sit-Up”
The giant bolts upright, panicked, convinced he’s late for “giant school.” Everyone within 15 ft. is knocked prone as his gut hits you like a siege engine.
6. The “Breakfast Buffet”
The giant mistakes the party for a continental breakfast. He attempts to scoop you up in a big meaty paw. Roll opposed Dex checks / Acrobatics. Failure means you’re halfway to being spread on toast.
Hill Giant’s Pockets & Shoes Loot Table
(Roll a d8—or just give the party something that makes them regret searching.)
1. A Half-Eaten Cow Sandwich
Wrapped in a barn door. Counts as rations for 10 people, but only if they don’t mind the mooing.
2. One Sock
Large enough to double as a party tent. Smells like a tragic backstory.
3. 17 Copper Pieces
Welded together into one sticky, sweaty lump. Good luck convincing a merchant it’s “currency” and not “biological waste.”
4. A Dead Goblin
Perfectly flat. Could be used as parchment if you’re desperate.
5. A “Lucky” Rock
Shaped suspiciously like a potato. Throwing it at an enemy causes 1d2 damage and 1d12 confusion.
6. A Boot-Full of Ale
Still drinkable, if you ignore the faint taste of athlete’s foot. Provides the effects of a Potion of Heroism, plus one level of shame.
7. A Tiny, Surprisingly Polite Mouse
It offers you a crumb of cheese and asks if you’ve “seen the missus.” Becomes a loyal companion if fed daily (likes Gouda, hates cheddar).
8. A Tattered Love Letter
Addressed to “Gerta, Queen of the Giants.” Reading it aloud causes the giant to blush furiously and deny everything. May be leveraged as blackmail.
Rumours About the Big Sleepy Hill Giant
(Roll a d8, or just insert whichever makes your players squint suspiciously.)
1. “They say the giant once ate an entire windmill because he thought it was a muffin. The baker’s still upset about it.”
2. “He’s not asleep, he’s meditating. If you wake him, you’ll interrupt his quest for inner peace. Also, he might step on you.”
3. “The giant collects socks. Human-sized ones. He wears them as finger warmers.”
4. “Every time he snores, it causes a minor earthquake three villages over. Farmers use him as a free plough.”
5. “They say he’s dreaming of his first kiss, which was apparently with a cow. Or maybe on a cow. The details vary.”
6. “The giant’s actually guarding a treasure hoard. Or a cheese cellar. Or both. Depends who you ask.”
7. “If you whisper a lullaby into his ear, you can steal his dreams and sell them to wizards. Smells like bacon.”
8. “He once tried to court the mayor’s daughter by giving her a ‘bouquet’ of sheep. Didn’t go well. Still owes child support in goats.”
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