Roxann
A seed corrupt, mutated, a tall branch wilting as the newly budded fruit of the world tree melts away, insect legs, clawed arms, and dark tendrils crawl out of the collapsing fruit, reality warping around it, melting like wax as a orange red radiance shined, a wretched god is born.

The volatile chaos emerges from the fruit, the mass of tendrils slithering into the sky above the upper branches, the sky around it warping as it ascended to a deep crimson. The branch that held the fruit was now charred with a orange red ashes falling from it, the infantile beast screeches, as it starts to realize, and manifest its ungodly power, slithering higher into the sky.

Kthath now slithered into the outer heavens, leaving the world tree, as he grew quickly into a chaos that soared between the stars, the warped sky returning to normal as kthath now receeded to a small black dot in the sky to those on the upper branches, red and orange flame following him a trail, emitting a radiance that would take as much of the sky as the sun for a few moments.

Belowing roars are heard across the world tree as the monstrosity grew further more in size, before he entirely dissapeared.
Elisa
*Alright, so they hadn't seen him. That was fine; they hadn't been ignoring him on purpose, then. Ica acknowledged their bow with a small nod. After that, the other god turned away and continued their little tour of the World Tree. Ica wasn't mad, per se- but he wasn't happy about being ignored, either. He wasn't going to start a fight about it though. He wasn't very much a fighter, even though his powers were fit for it. He simply left the other god to their explorations, while he himself turned away into a different direction.*

*Ica transformed back into his true form. Then, he continued walking along the northernmost branches of the World Tree, before stopping at the end of one. If he jumped off from here, he could already see a good place to start creating. Decision made, then. Ica leaped off the World Tree, slowly descending towards the north.*
Roger
The golden fruit of unknown origin shook. A soft rattling of some form of light mettle bouncing about inside escaped into the branches. Its wobbling only lasted for a few seconds, before the thin vine connecting it to Yggdrassil's bark split and it fell to the upper branches, bouncing once before smooshing with a soft loud blurt. Inside, the fruit was mostly empty, except for a small golden ring. The ring wasn't particularly large and was strange when compared to the horrors birthed from many of these fruits and eggs. 

The ring wiggled and jumped into the air. Its soft glowing morphed to form an almost-humanoid shape with four arms. Quickly, the god changed, light flowing from his body in the process. Soon, an automaton body formed, with a metal body and four arms — two on either side of his chest. 

He looked around, dazed from having just been born, and confused about his surroundings. He stretched his body, just to make sure he could. He was, in fact, alive right now. 

In his head, a soft voice seemed to bellow "Daion..." In a low tone. He muttered this word under his breath and the yellow circles upon his face spun. Daion, he was, a new god born into this world. But what was this world? 

Daion walked between the branches, curiously pressing on Yggdrassil's bark to feel the texture. It was very hard, and as he quickly realized, extremely large. In fact, his current form couldn't even see from one edge of the tree's top-most branches to the other side by normal means.

As a new god, Daion figured it would be best to begin creating. But what would he create? Where would he make it? 

He saw the large expanse of upper branches and knew that this was not a suitable location to create his first lands. For one, it was full of unborn gods, and for another it was rather restrictive. So, moving onwards, Daion took exploration into his own hands and slowly floated off of the tree, searching for adequate land for creation.
Jason
Upon a gnarled branch upon the world three the abhorrent fruiting god would writhe within the wretched fruit, rotten and twisted, malformed with wart like growths. These motions would only grow with intensity as Balador with great force emerged from the rotten fruit upon the tree with a sickening ear splitting guttural howl. 

From its emergence the twisted and terrible god of violence would arise, with great laborious movement Balador would stand upright letting out a terrible roar. A great crimson energy would encase Balador before seemingly transporting Balador elsewhere dissapearing within a flash.