The day after the duel, Soren’s mood perhaps wasn’t improved, but at least he wasn’t stewing in things as he left the living quarters and headed to the main hall for the guild the next morning. A night to think things over and ruminate was at least enough to help him think it over, plan for next time and other such post-loss things to mull over in his brain.
As he was descending, he found a crowd already assembled. Not for any commotion—for once—but instead to watch as some others hauled up the trophy mount from the hunt for Scarred. The hunk of tail and horn Soren had severed, proudly displayed on a large plague holding back items stuck right to it, marked both with the name of the monster they were from and Soren’s own.