Before long, the battle turns into a slaughter as the Sulfreyan knights become disorganized and disheartened by the loss of their leader and the overpowering force of your assault. The few who try to get away meet their end in the poisonous miasm, their final weakened cries of despair drowned out by the ominous vapors. As the spell ends and the air clears, you stand victorious and alone on the steppe. Around you are the corpses and cadavers of some four score men and beasts in varying states of destruction. Once more, all is silent but for the gentle rustling of the wind as it softly caresses the fields of grass stretching out in every direction.
The sun is setting, slowly descending behind the Spine far to the west. In only an hour or so, night will fall over the plateau, covering the land in darkness. The group has several possibilities, but not much daylight to perform them in. Looting the bodies of the fallen for resources could be a clever move, but could take time on part of there being so many. Arcane solutions regarding the dead seems like an option, too. If one was inclined to make camp and rest before tomorrows march, the thicket to the south could provide shelter. Then again, perhaps speed would be the wisest choice, marching through the night towards the north east - and your fate.
After all,
She is waiting...
...and so is He.