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Many years ago I was tasked with raiding a dungeon to stop a draconic cult from resurrecting a particularly nasty dragon. Naturally as a treasure hunter I answered the call. If I couldn't stop the cult I should still be able to find something of great value from the dragon's hoard. Two of us dwarves stealthily made our way into the underground labyrinth and to our shock every single room had treasures. I mean there were these massive detailed paintings, fine rugs, jewelry, ANYTHING one might want. Eventually we make our way to a room where a flaming sword floats above a stone altar. My ally already had a magical hammer he was satisfied with, so I take it. Little did either of us know the thing was cursed. Once I held onto it I felt a compulsion unlike any other deep in my soul to wield only this weapon. To make matters worse, the scabbard is nowhere to be found. I can't stop the flames. I couldn't stealth anywhere with this bright light emanating from my person. I also had to find very particular places to put it down. One time I didn't do that so well...I accidentally set an entire forest aflame. Next thing I knew I was a wanted arsonist.
Torin Sundbar, dwarf 5E