To come to a lending house with an empty purse. Grim, foreboding edifices of candlelit stone, these institutions are dark tombs of penury, where even those of standing and respect know fear. The hideous custodians click their claws with gleeful anticipation, as their appraising eyes roam the ostentatious wealth worn by each supplicant. Coin will readily be given, but the price of that gold may be greater than even the most successful Master can bear. To borrow gold is easy, but to repay it is much harder, and no excuses are tolerated for late repayment. The skulls of those who have run afoul of the lending houses hang from blackened chains, and their blood stains the warped floorboards of these grim cathedrals dedicated to the worship of gold.