Mark Decker is the reluctant Prince of Milwaukee and a renowned werewolf hunter. He is the founder of the Anubi coterie in Milwaukee and the former Gangrel Primogen.
The Prince Gangrel who holds Milwaukee in his iron grip. He has no patience for those who would flout his law, act as Anarchs, or imperil Milwaukee.
The Decker of tonight is a far cry from the Decker of three decades prior, revealing to some Kindred how a crown might kill a respected vampire’s good humor and honor.
Biography[]
| “ | Some vampires love war as if it were their own mother. The freshly dead cover the earth like manna, and none will notice if another of the wounded dies quietly.
Lucian was short on blood. There had not been any major battles for weeks, and he hungered. His powers slipped him past our guard, who was quietly smoking a pipe in the early dawn mist. His lust led him to the first tent he came across—mine. In he crept like a cat and took all my blood before I awoke. He said later that what he had done sickened him when the lust passed. Used to feeding on only the dead or dying, the sight of my pale, bloodless corpse, all twisted underneath him, horrified him. He gave me some of the blood back. That dark morning, I began my second life. Lucian and I fled from my friends into the cool forest. Those men, my neighbors, must have begun searching for me, their commander. They were ambushed two days later by Tories. All were slaughtered. When I heard about this some years later, I swore I would never let that happen again, and I would die first rather than abandon those who trusted me. Vows aside, I still had to live. Lucian saw me settled in what would be Alabama, and I became a rich man. The slaves made useful herds, and I never risked frenzy because of them. Lucian left me, and I lived quite happily for decades. Then came the War between the States. My lands were confiscated, and they said I committed crimes against the negros. Of course, they were right, but what did it matter? I fled north and, after much wandering, finally arrived in Milwaukee. At the time, it was a quiet little city. My home was a comfortable country house where I could go into the city when I liked but still enjoy the fresh air, free of the smells of horses, dung, unwashed dogs, and unwashed people. It was not long after I settled in that the Lupine started to attack. They claimed I was in their territory and laid siege to my house. I held them off for 13 days before having to flee back to the city after they killed my herd and my retainers. With no blood, I was starting to get weaker... and they knew it. I managed to sink my fangs into an overly anxious attacker and felt an incredible surge of power fill my body as I drained. Never had I felt so powerful, so mighty, so complete. With this Vitæ coursing through my veins, I made my escape. They are mindless, barbaric, primal animals worth nothing more than serving our needs. They embody everything we wish we were not. They are our own beast within, standing before us and mockingly destroying us. I have learned to fight these creatures, and I have created the most dangerous fighting force known to the Kindred. My warriors are tried and tested, and they all have proven strong. Many have died in this battle to defend Milwaukee, but those who have lived through the fire have grown stronger and harder for it. I receive little help from the Elders or the Anarchs. Both are tied up in their little war against one another and do not believe in enemies beyond the city limits. Several times I have tried to make them listen, but they do not. They think the Lupine are brainless dogs running through the woods, creatures we could just kick aside if we wished. The Lupine are crafty, especially in battle, and those Kindred who remember the battle at the turn of this century should remember that New Year's night before so quickly dismissing our greatest foe. The group I now command is a good one. They would follow me into the noon-day sun if I told them to. This is the kind of loyalty the Anubi builds in Kindred. This is the strength we need. |
” |
Mortal Days[]
Decker’s youngest days were spent on the frontier with his parents and brothers, forging a life on a stolen land that felt like home to him. He was hopeful and honorable, at least so far as pioneers went, respecting the freeholds of other settlers and learning his letters so as to educate himself in this new world.
His father was a fierce American patriot before such a thing was popular, and it was at his urging that Mark took up the musket and led his local militia against natives who objected to his family’s arrival on their land. Eventually, his gun pointed toward the British, from whom the colonies sought liberation.
Though many of his fellows from the South resisted the revolution, or came to it later than their northern neighbors, Decker fought bravely and with purpose. It all seemed so simple and almost fun until a British musket shot caught him in the groin, and then the chest, and a blade cut savagely across his face.
Bleeding heavily, his right cheek flapping open, Mark screamed out for his mother, who did not reply. He begged God for his father’s strength, but found it pooling in the mud around him as his cries were drowned out by the agonies of other young fighting men.
He fell on the field during the Battle of Brandywine Creek, in Pennsylvania. This place, far from his family, was where he expected to die. The soldier closed his eyes as the cacophony raged around him, hoping the next time they opened he would be in heaven.
Kindred Nights[]
Decker never found heaven. His sire, a Gangrel named Lucian, who intended only to take small mouthfuls of blood from the battle’s wounded, drank too much from the dying Mark Decker and, in guilt, Embraced the young soldier. His wounds partially healed through the process, only the tattered scars remaining to viscerally remind him of the battle where he was supposed to meet his maker.
Lucian set Decker up in Alabama with a plantation and a herd from which to feed, populated entirely by slaves. His sire left the young Gangrel to his eternity of indulgence, but Mark was restless and unhappy. His family never owned slaves, and he saw no humanity in stocking a pen full of unwilling vessels. Yet, he was no saint.
Decker’s was no story of emancipation. He profited from the slaves, even though he never fed from them, and while their lives may have been slightly more agreeable than those in some other plantations, they were not freed until the law decreed it so.
It was in Alabama that Decker first encountered the Lupines. At first, he thought road agents and slavers were raiding the fringes of his land, attempting to kidnap the people living there. He discovered the existence of werewolves much more quickly than he managed to integrate himself into broader Kindred society, learning terms like Silent Strider, Uktena, and Black Spiral, and realizing how much these creatures loathed his kind.
He trained his slaves to fight the beasts, but come the close of the 19th century, he had fled the South and settled in the city that would become Milwaukee. He never forgot what he learned though, and soon proved his worth to the then-Prince of the city when Lupines kept badgering at his borders, attempting to extend their reach into vampire territor.
He drank werewolf blood for the first time, feeling the immense pulse of strength that came with it, and came to understand that one of the only ways to beat these monsters was to devour them and steal their power.
For decades, Mark and his coterie — a group of werewolf-hunting vampires known as the Anubi — kept Milwaukee’s borders safe. He developed a reputation as a warlord and stalwart Camarilla supporter, when in fact, Decker wanted little to do with the politics. He just wanted a sanctuary for Kindred, perhaps out of misplaced nostalgia for his search to establish a secure homestead for his human family.
It was most important to him that the Gangrel have a place of their own, but some of Clans Brujah, Malkavian, and Ventrue might reside in sanctuary with them, too.
At the close of the 20th century, Prince Merik of Milwaukee is said to have immolated himself in a suicidal frenzy. Though there was a small competition for leadership, Decker was unwillingly positioned in the role of Prince. For the sake of the domain’s safety, he accepted. Finally, the Anubi would receive the official support they needed. For a short time, Milwaukee was the domain Decker wanted.
But as Decker has found time and time again, peace never lasts. The Gangrel and Brujah left the Camarilla, but he held firm, seeing no safety in Anarch lies. From the north, the Sabbat launched siege after siege upon his city, making every night a fight for survival. The Second Inquisition rose up, threatening vampires during the daytime as they lay at their most vulnerable. The Lupines never, ever stopped their incursions.
When many of the Anubi fled to the Anarch Movement, Decker finally implemented Decker’s Law, better known by his opponents as the Orwellian regime.
Mark Decker’s rules have been harsh, uncompromising, and have set many Kindred on paths away from Milwaukee. They have purged all known Anarchs from the domain and ensured a permanent militia remains on hand for dealing with the Lupines. Most importantly, the Second Inquisition have — according to Decker — never made a successful foray into his city. Decker controls his entire domain and the unlife of every vampire within it.
Prince Decker takes no pride in his police state, which he enforces via the Anubi, his animal eyes and ears, a constant chain of informants rewarded with trivial boons for intelligence, and each of his lieutenants’ connections to the mortal police force. He doesn’t evangelize or roll his eyes at more relaxed domains.
All he knows is that if you give your enemies an inch, they will take a foot. He has been fighting in wars his entire existence, and as far as he’s concerned, you only stop fighting when you’re well and truly dead.
Appearance[]
Milwaukee by Night[]
Mark is a strong, tall man with very pale skin and jet-black hair, which contrasts sharply to give him a sickly appearance. He typically wears black or camouflaged clothing to blend in and hide from the Lupine. Mark exudes an air of leadership and an aura of strength, making him perhaps the most trustworthy Vampire in all of Milwaukee—or at least, he seems that way.
Let the Streets Run Red[]
Mark Decker goes by Carson Vogel in his mortal dealings and is known as a blue-blooded philanthropist who sponsors the police force retirement charities, the Milwaukee Brewers baseball team, and a slew of other private interests that generally lead back to Decker’s wallet getting fatter.
Decker’s lank black hair surrounds a pale white face he rarely bothers to infuse with a Blush of Life, despite all his concerns for security. A thick scar runs from the right corner of his mouth to his ear, the lobe of which is missing. His intense gaze often conveys boredom or finality.
Decker often wears dark clothing and camouflage when hunting Lupines. In his mortal guise, he goes for comfortable fatigues or a cardigan and slacks. The comfortable appearance of his Carson Vogel persona belies how violent he is.
Character Sheet[]
Gallery[]
References[]
- VTM: Milwaukee by Night, p. 35-37
- VTM: Clanbook: Gangrel Revised, p. 39, 99-100
- VTM: Clan Novel Trilogy Brujah 3: The Puppet Masters, p. 238
- VTM: New York by Night, p. 68
- VTM: Beckett's Jyhad Diary, p. 9-12
- VTM: Let the Streets Run Red, p. 177-180
