The young mage had marveled at the sheer mystical might of Beaudriyah when he witnessed her take down the abomination. He would garner to say she was as powerful as some of his most adept teachers back in Dalaran. It wasn't good to dwell on such things now, and he did his best to keep up with Winston and Alistair as they ran for it. It seemed cruel fate that the companions would find a hospital place to set camp, only to be discovered by bandits. 

Diplomacy was key here, he knew. In fact he surprised himself. Usually he would begin talking first, but he had almost attacked without inhibition when they showed up. He was also surprised that he could attack at all. Perhaps he was becoming stronger than he realized in the art of magic. Of course one couldn't exercise magic like a muscle, but one could become stronger and able to wield more of the arcane from taxing themselves. It was dangerous, but he'd had to do it these past few weeks and it was beginning to show. Still... 

Before he could begin to negotiate, Tilson started spewing out threats and orders. Nathoric shot him a warning glance, but the young mage knew he wouldn't heed such a small gesture even if he saw it. He seemed to be out for blood. "Perhaps we should accompany them to their camp." Nathoric said to Tilson, loud enough for the bandits to hear. He had one hand within his robe, and he whispered a small incantation as his fingers performed the signs necessary for his next spell. 

He pulled his hand out of his robe sleeve and patted Tilson on the head reassuringly. Of course, it wasn't a true pat upon the head. Information briefly surged into the soldier's mind. It wasn't transferred with words per say, but if it could, it would appear as something akin to 'They know not I and the lady are mages it seems. If they can bandage our friend, and give some protection against the horde until we need them no longer, it seems prudent to join them for now.'