(The man is now in a bed, in an unfamiliar place)

Man: Ugh... What the...?

Off-Camera Voice 1: The swordsman has awoken. Go.

Off-Camera Voice 2: At once, my Lord.

(Someone appears off to the side of the bed)

Man: Who's there? Man, it hurts to move...

Person: You ought not. I saw a great number of tiny flesh wounds.

Man: I feel... bandages... you did that?

Person: Aye, though I am but a mere apprentice. 'Twas my teacher who revived you from death's cold grip.

Man: Wait, I was... dead?

Person: Indeed. Can you remember?

Man: I died from a bunch of Spyders!?

Person: I am, at least, satisfied that your vocal chords are still intact.