More:
Harvus Norheim's favorite construct, also the first he considers a complete success. She has a full emotional spectrum and enough autonomy to make informed decisions without his input, though he did assure her loyalty to him -- a simple precaution, you understand how it is. In the eleven years since her creation, she has slowly become more "human," only recently considering interests of her own, mostly at her creator's insistence. She does feel a certain amount of pride in being Norheim's head of security, though she likely doesn't even realize it.

Sample:
The freelancer hadn't gotten far.

Though her capabilities did not extend to tracking specific humans, she was attuned to every magical artifact in her employer's collection, and the one he had taken was of particular importance. He called it a failed experiment, the less said about it the better, but it was bound with some of his strongest magical protections. She had never had any reason to admit it, even to herself, but the stone had made her uneasy when she'd found herself near it.

She set her feet to the road and lunged forward, drawing on the energy network of the earth beneath her to propel her forward at a speed that was more than a match for any horse, and his horse was not one of the better ones.

Even so, it was at least a minute longer than she calculated before the freelancer -- the thief -- came into sight, driving his weary animal as fast as he could.

"Stop!"

His shoulders hunched under the whipcrack of her voice, but he didn't stop immediately, instead attempting to push the laboring horse faster. She felt a flash of emotion, taking a moment to identify it as impatience, then drew alongside him.

"Your horse will collapse in two hours at most, and I will still be pursuing you," she informed him.

He looked down at her, forehead wrinkling, then drew his horse up sharply. Her footsteps carried her a few feet beyond him before she halted, turning to face him.

"Look," he said, lifting his hands in a gesture of apparent surrender. "I didn't mean to break the glass --"

"I am not concerned with the status of the chalice. Return the artifact, and you may go on your way." She extended her hand.

"The -- the what?"

"A small, black stone you have in your possession." She concentrated on him for a moment. "In the pouch on your right."

Expression growing bewildered, he fumbled with the pouch in question, blinking when his hand emerged with the stone in its grip. "I don't even -- did I take this?"

"Yes," she said.

He rubbed his forehead. "Oh. Well -- yeah, you can have it back. I'm just gonna drop it here, okay -- and then I'll back off, and you can take it. And then we'll all just go, right?" The hand holding the stone was already extended, prepared to release it.

"Adequate," she said, and her master's voice crackled suddenly in her ear.

Liev! Don't let that stone touch the earth. We don't need another damn disaster today.

"Wait," she said aloud, but it was already falling.

The thief looked at her blankly as she lunged forward, fingers a half second late in closing around the stone. She gripped dirt, and for a moment understood her employer's compulsion to swear. Then something wriggled against her palm, and the ground rocked beneath her before tearing suddenly upward.

She didn't remember releasing the stone, nor did she recall snatching the freelancer from his horse, but she had him firmly in one arm. She released him, and he grunted as he landed on the road.

"Oh, come on," he gritted. "What was that for -- sweet Chresa, your arm --"

She glanced at where her left arm should have been and found it missing, fluid dripping from the stump, but most of her concern was on the wall of thorns and other plant life that had sprung up from the ground where the stone had fallen. It was as tall as a city's walls already and spreading rapidly -- toward her employer's tower.

She was halfway into a leap when she heard his voice again.

Liev, stay where you are. I'm enacting the emergency defenses. Get to Gilten and find Morris. You've met him before.

"Yes, sir," she said, chest fluttering with what she realized belatedly were the beginnings of panic.

I'll stay in contact as long as I can.

She didn't answer this time, instead turning toward the south and Gilten in the hopes she could amend her failure.