Orn is a demigod of Freljord, in charge of forging and crafting. He carved out a majestic workshop in a cavern under a volcano called Furnace Village, and worked in it alone.

He fiddles with lava-boiling cauldrons, refining ores to create objects of unparalleled sophistication. When the other gods, especially Volibel, walk the earth and intervene in mortal affairs, Orn will step in and persuade these reckless creatures to return to their respective places. Either with a reliable hammer in your hand, or with the fire of the mountains.

Orn prefers seclusion to his ilk. He is used to being alone, and his mind is not distracted. On a sleeping volcano, draped in the scars of ancient eruptions, Orn forged and polished as he pleased, day and night.

The result is the creation of a considerable number of priceless treasures, which have been given a legendary destiny from the very beginning of their birth. Some of the lucky ones who happen to come across these artifacts will be amazed by their sheer quality.

Some say that Bronn's shield is the work of Orn thousands of years ago, because the shield is always as bright as new, as if it had just been baked yesterday. However, no one dared to pat their chests and assure him, because no one could find this immortal and ask him personally.

Aoun's name was widely sung in what would become known as Freeljord. However, almost all the legends about him have been lost in history, some because of his enemies, and some simply because of the long passage of time.

Today, only a handful of stories are still in circulation among a small group of tribes. These tribes can be traced all the way back to a culture of blacksmiths, craftsmen and master brewers, but it has long since been lost.

This group of extinct ancestors is called the Furnace Family. In the name of Aoun, they have traveled from all over the world to settle at the foot of the Furnace Country, hoping to master the art of Orn.

Despite the group's admiration for Orn, they themselves never felt themselves as the patron saints of the Furnace family. When they presented their work, Orn only nodded or frowned slightly.

The furnace family will also gladly accept it, and strengthen their determination to hone their skills. As a result, they were able to make the most ingenious tools, the strongest houses, and the most delicious ales in the world. Orn has a heartfelt appreciation for the Furnace family's perseverance and desire to keep improving.

However, disaster struck one night. For reasons unknown to mortals, Orn and his brother Volibel fought on the top of the mountain, destroying everything that the Furnace family had worked so hard to create.

Flames, ashes, and lightning rain down from the sky, rolling up terrible storms that you can see even from beyond the ten horizons. When the dust settled, the furnace village became a smoking crater, and the furnace family was all shattered, and the flesh and bone marrow were mixed in the embers and slowly fell silent.

While Orn would never admit it verbally, he was completely broken. He had caught a glimpse of the potential of mortal beings in the furnace family, but these beings were completely destroyed in the blink of an eye under the wrath of the immortals.

Feeling so guilty that he returned to the workshop alone, where he retreated into penance and never saw the world again.

But now, he sensed that the outside world had stepped into a new era. Some of his siblings have re-materialized, and their followers have become increasingly fanatical.

Freljord is torn apart, dragons are leaderless, and ancient horrors lurk in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity for a major invasion. Unprecedented upheaval is coming.

Whether he's planning ahead or rebuilding after the war, Orn knows that Freljord, and the entire Runeterra lands, is in dire need of a skilled blacksmith.

In the dark chasms of the Runeterra Lands, the demon Evelyn has been searching for her next target. She wears the sultry appearance of a human feminine and seduces her prey.

As soon as someone falls for her charm, Evelyn reveals her true form. She will inflict unspeakable torture in order to satisfy herself in the pain of her prey. For this demon, such pleasure is only unintentional and innocent.

But for others in the Land of Runeterra, what they hear is a murky legend of the dangers of sensuality and the cost of indulgence.

Evelyn wasn't a naturally skilled huntress. She began in an incomparably ancient era, a kind of primordial being, formless, only the most vague sense of self.

The Shadow-born spirit existed simply in obscurity, remaining insensitive for hundreds of years, unresponsive to any external stimuli.

It could have gone on like this, but the world was turned upside down by a strife. This catastrophe, known to later generations as the Rune War, pushed the world into an unprecedented era of suffering.

At that time, the people of the entire Runeterras were going through all kinds of tribulations, pains, and losses, and as a result, the dark shadows were stirred.

The emptiness of its long-known knowledge is filled with mania and throbbing in a painful world. The creature trembled with excitement.

As the rune wars escalated, the world's tribulations became more and more severe, making the shadow feel like it was about to burst open.

It drank the pain of the Runeterra, and experienced the pleasure of being at ease. It's a feeling that makes it so sweet. Over time, it became something more advanced. It became a demon, a voracious spirit parasite, devouring the most primitive human emotions.

When the war finally ended, the suffering of the world gradually subsided. The demon finds himself becoming more and more desperate. The only pleasure it can experience comes from the misery of other creatures. Without the pain of the outside world, it cannot feel anything, just like the state in which it was born.

If the world can't satisfy the demon's need for pain and growth, then it will have to create its own suffering. It needs to inflict its pain on other living creatures in order to experience that ecstasy again.

Initially, catching prey was not simple for this demon. While it can move silently in shadow form, in order to catch a human, it must manifest as something touchable.

It has tried several times to use its flesh from the Shadows to form a physical body, but each attempt has turned out to be more hideous than the last, invariably scaring away its prey.

The demon realized that he needed an irresistible form that would not only lure them into his clutches, but also satisfy their own desires and give them great pleasure. In this way, their pain will be sweeter.

Hiding in the shadows, it begins to observe the prey it wants to prey. It cut out a body according to their preferences, learned the most touching words to their ears, and walked out of the slender steps of their eyes.

Within a few weeks, the demon had created a perfect body, attracted dozens of mesmerized prey, and then tortured it to death with its own hands.

Although she will always savor every trace of delicate pain in each prey, she always feels that she wants more.

Every human being's desires are too small, and the time available for play is too short. Their pain was always fleeting, and the euphoria they brought to her was nothing more than the taste of the clear soup and little water, barely enough for her to last until the next meal.

She longed for the day when she could plunge the world into complete chaos, so that she could regain her former state of being, full of pure ecstasy.