Maid Type: Sexy Lolita (Luck +1, Cunning +1, Athletics -1, Will -1)
Uniform Color: Gray
Eye Color: Cream
Hair Color: Navy
Special Quality 1: Armor. Your maid uniform is actually a stylized suit of armor.
Special Quality 2: Brown Skin. Your skin is a dark brown color. It could be natural, or a tan.
Maid Roots: Admirer of Maids. You have long admired maids, and through much hard work you've finally become one yourself.
Stress Explosion: Sleep. You spend all day sleeping.
Maid Weapon: Psychic Powers. Well, you have some kind of psychic/super power that you use to attack. You can decide the details.
Trauma: Former juvenile vagrant
Mental Complex: Slow Eater. You take longer to eat than everyone else, so you always wind up left behind to finish eating by yourself.
Maid Power: Saw It. You can declare that you've seen something happening in the mansion; you can decide the timing too.
Name: Aranea Petromyz.
Life isn't always good when your born different. Not even the end of the world can change that. Heh, I should know. Was born normal enough, you see. Or at least appeared so. But, well, not everyone makes it through the background radiation O.k. You see this hide? Wasn't always like this. Some are kissed by the sun. Mine was the atom. Of course, what I could end up doing was more noticeable than the hard tan it gave me.
*Holds out hand. A Dark red substance crawls out from under her sleeve and begins to hover is a palm above her hand.*
Sure, it was something that I was in control of, but those backwater jerkwads wouldn't seem to accept that as an answer. And thus, I ended up one of the dime-dozen soon-to-be corpses of being a 'lone survivor'. But I was more determined than that. Even as that community wouldn't accept me, I managed to find one that did. Still an urchin, but at least on in a city. Well, more like the corpse of a city. You know how the surface places are. There, I saw them. The Maids. At first, I thought it seemed wasteful; housekeepers when a lot of us had trouble just surviving? But as I noticed them around more and more, I realized, they were more than just that. Actually, they appeared to have the most competent people around, I swear. Just seeing them...I knew what I wanted to be. Work hard, refit a low-profile body armor into a proper uniform...well, guess I succeeded. And now, here I am.
Armor: Ah yes, this piece of work. I made my own uniform, as one of my first attempts to develop the fine skills I would need. I know it looks a little bulky, and overly frilly, especially given my frame, but that's because of what it conceals. Behind this piece lies the heart of what formed it: a looted military wear. Good low-profile stuff, like I'm sure the Pre-War cops would have worn.Heck, as a bonus to it's protective properties, comes with a good bunch of extra pockets I can put extra stuff in. ((Figured this needed expansion, because 'armor' is a vague term))
((Didn't have much to go, but since you mentioned an apocalypse, I assumed somewhere between mad max and fallout type)).