Banjo-Tooie Rare Prologue – Story So Far…

Kazooie eyed her dwindling pile of coins dejectedly.
“Deal the cards, bone face,” the breegull trilled.
“Mumbo play well, wins much of bear and bird’s cash,” the shaman grinned at Banjo.
As the midnight storm raged outside, Banjo the bear nodded ruefully as he observed the varying fortunes of the players huddled around their card table. His breegull partner, Kazooie, was losing badly, Bottles the mole was about even, but it had been a good night for Mumbo Jumbo, who was shaking with excitement as he dealt the next hand.

“S-Stop rocking the t-table, you’re s-spilling our d-drinks!” Kazooie squawked accusingly at the shaman.
“N-Not Mumbo, w-whole h-house s-shaking.” Mumbo replied unsteadily.
He was right. Banjo’s house was shaking, but it quickly subsided as suddenly as it began.
“I wonder what that was? Perhaps someone should go and take a look,” blinked a nervous Bottles.
The mole glanced around the table, hoping someone other than him would have to venture out into the cold, wet night and confront whatever might be out there. Things like this never happened when he was underground.
“Mumbo much brave, me go look outside,” declared the shaman confidently, striding towards the door and out into the howling storm.
“C’mon Banjo, gimme a hand,” Kazooie cackled as she began helping herself to Mumbo’s winnings.
“Kazooie!”

The rain pattered down on Mumbo’s bony head as he trudged up the path that led away from Banjo’s house. Everything looked normal, the shaman thought, apart from those two figures hurrying towards the spot where Banjo’s arch-enemy, Gruntilda the witch, had fallen and subsequently been buried two years before.
“Witches!” Mumbo realised. “This not good, Mumbo go see what doing…”
By the time the shaman had dashed over and concealed himself behind a suitable rock, the witches were standing in front of the boulder that covered Grunty’s grave. Both of them were mumbling in a strange language, whilst the taller of the two held open a huge book. Mumbo watched, enthralled, as the huge boulder lifted into the air – and then vanished!
“Witch magic good,” the shaman murmured.
“Gone the rock has, so out you can come!” crowed the shorter fat witch.
All three stared towards the now open grave as the smoke cleared and a figure emerged. Standing there was Gruntilda the witch, but not the Grunty they all remembered. Her two years spent underground had taken their toll on her warty body, reducing her to just a skeleton! Grunty looked down at her new bony body in disgust.
“Nice Grunty looks, lost weight you have,” the thin witch grinned.
“I hate bones, a body I need. Can you help me with this little deed?” Grunty glared at her sisters.
“Yes, plan Mingella and Blobbelda has, so off to our castle we must go,” the fat Blobbelda wheezed.
Mumbo was horrified. Gruntilda restored to her former evil self? They couldn’t let this happen. Banjo had to know immediately!
“Arrgghh! Seen us, bony man has!” Mingella screeched, pointing a long bony finger in the fleeing shaman’s direction.
“Leave it to me, he’s no hassle, I’ll kick butt, then off to the castle!” cackled Grunty as she lumbered after him.

A frantic Mumbo crashed through the front door, not even noticing that Kazooie had taken his winnings.
“Grunty spell coming! Quick, must all run!” the shaman gasped breathlessly, pointing to the window as a strange bright light headed towards them.
“He’s right!” Banjo yelped. “Everybody out!”
From her vantage point, Grunty watched gleefully as her spell slammed into the side of Banjo’s house, instantly reducing it to a pile of smoking rubble. Cackling maniacally, she hurried across to where her sisters were waiting inside their giant digging machine that they had used to tunnel their way to Spiral Mountain. She’d been promised that they’d perfected a device that was capable of sucking life force from the ground itself and any creatures that stood on it: once enough had been collected, they said it could be used to restore her former bloated body. Gruntilda couldn’t wait to try out the device on some poor, unsuspecting, innocent little animals!
Some time later, a very groggy Banjo sat up on the grass where he’d been thrown when the spell struck. Kazooie emerged from the safety of his backpack and watched in amusement as Mumbo rubbed his bruised skull gingerly.
“Ooooh, Mumbo’s head hurts.” The shaman groaned.
“Never mind that, look at our house!” squawked the Breegull, as she surveyed the smouldering wreckage.
“Well, at least everyone got out safely…” sighed Banjo.
Kazooie wasn’t so sure. Someone seemed missing…
“Hang on, where’s Goggle Boy?” she trilled.
Everyone turned to look at the house, as a blackened shape stumbled out from what remained of the doorway. Bottles wobbled and staggered towards his friends, but collapsed to the floor before he could reach them and lay still. Banjo and Mumbo rushed across to help the stricken mole.
“Uh-huh, mole looks much unwell,” Mumbo observed.
“It’s worse than that… Grunty’s killed poor Bottles!” the bear gasped.
“Grunty wreck house and kill mole, she will pay! Bear and bird must get after witch!”
Kazooie screeched excitedly. It seemed such a long time since their last adventure. “C’mon Banjo, let’s go!”
Banjo sighed heavily as he started up the path away from the remains of his once-picturesque house.
“I’ve a feeling it’s not going to be as easy this time…”