[h1] [center] [i][color=red]That is one sick dragon[/color][/i] [/center] [/h1]

As Chris just recovered and was about to move, his eyes caught to his teammates. Seeing such helpless mortal flesh seemed to have triggered a response like that of a chameleon spotting a fly. There was a growing sensation to direct his destructive and predatory nature to his teammates, eyes drawn to them like magnets. But this focus was broken when the volley of earth fell around him. Back in reality, the sound was enough for Chris to grip on his senses. With swift motions akin to a feline or wolf, he was able to avoid the first volley. However when the toxic smog hit, he would suddenly grow very groggy. 

The dragon's urge to feed was overshadowed by a growing sickness. He felt nausea, like he was going to vomit. His movements were wobbly and he felt a tab numb. More over, somewhat weak. The first wave of inhaling this chemical left Chris vulnerable for a few moments, such moments would have gotten Chris crushed had Angel not stopped the monster's advances. She bought time for Chris to resist the illness upon him and charge forward, though even in his mad sprint, the gas clearly made him more exhausted and lethargic in comparison to his previous movements. Less alert, and his limbs moved sluggishly. That wasn't to say he wasn't moving slow, but it was definitely a downgrade from his previous charge. 

Still, Chris would leap onto the exposed mass of animate food since it was turned towards Angel. All the while, the illness induced by the toxic air continued to make Chris's movements sluggish. He could feel his stomach grow sick as the dragon clung to the spagetti's side, trying to will himself to bite into the delicious creature, but instead his stomach had other plans. The Dragon, still gripping onto the mass of spaghetti, would vomit, due to the toxic air. His stomach juices would splatter all onto the mass in front of his maw.

The stomach acid of the dragon devastated the monster, its noodle-y flesh rapidly deteriorating upon exposure to the bile. Chris would fall from the lumbering mass as it would scream in pain, struggling to move and holding onto its plate as its mass was being eaten away. Chris's victory was not well celebrated, the dragon was still gravely ill from the gas and while the vomiting had some numb-like relief, it was temporary. The moment Chris got up after falling from the spaghetti monster, his feet would wobble this way and that. There was still trickles of stomach content dripping from his lips. The only benefit of this toxic gas, aside from accidentally using his own ill-stricken vomit as a weapon, allowed him to dampen his thirst for destruction and other feral tendencies his inhuman form seemed to hex him to do. Through this, he was able to pay attention to his allies without the tempting urge to maul them, at least for the moment.