Name: Horace Maui
Aliases: "That Annoying Pink Furball"
Species: Mew
Gender: Male
Age: 3000+ (Claimed)
DOB: Unknown
Place of Birth: Unknown
Nature: Unknown
Occupation: Time Skipper (Claimed)
Build: Ectomorph
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Brown, short & curly. May be a wig.
Likes: Gummy candies, Oran berry sherbet, "retro" television shows, exploring, cosplay, talking in the "Common Received Pronunciation" accent.
Dislikes: Fighting, doing actual work, broccoli, paradoxes, spandex, nightmares, ingrates.
Quirk: He has a strange "obsession" with a low-budget science fiction screenplay that once aired before humans vanished from the world.
Quote: "I walk the roads of eternity, so I guess you could say I'm a traveler."

Rumors. Ultimately that is all anyone has regarding this Mew's origins. Nobody takes his claims seriously, thinking he's either lying or crazy, especially where his age is concerned.

Yanked out of the time stream by a Time Skipper at the moment of his death, his body had to be anthropomorphed during the resuscitation process. Of course this carried side effects with it. Unfortunately one of those aforementioned side effects was turning his memory into swiss cheese.

Certainly he needed help remembering who he was, but that wasn't the only challenge he had to face. Learning he could not go back to his former life was a hard pill to swallow, especially since history recorded him as having died in that era. Even if he could go back, his friends and family would reject him as some kind of monster. Violence would likely follow and the flow of time would change, both of which are very undesirable. Educating him in the intricacies of time travel and observing various alternate timelines, as they told him, was going to be part of his new life among the Time Skippers. Recruiting him into this organization of time travelers made sense to his saviors at the time, they needed new members.

But learning the rules and regulations wasn't easy; it took (relative) years before he was ready to be given his first job. Officially assigned to a Temporal Alternate Reality Disruptive Incongruity Scanner (what an odd name), he was ordered to monitor an entire timeline. Yet there was just one thing he needed before he left: a wardrobe for blending in.

Horace: "Who has been reading my records? This isn't even a proper biography! They're insulting me and leaving out a lot of details! It's like half-cocked research is what it is! This is almost codswallop! ... At least I can agree with this imbecile on the name of my transportation... Wait a bloody second, am I seeing what I think I'm seeing? This has to be saying something else..."