Market Place.

{Chapter 1, part 1, by Ray10k}

It was a day like any other, in the (mostly) quiet little town of Ponyville. Celestia’s sun had only barely passed the horizon, and most of Ponyville’s inhabitants were only just getting out of their beds. One of these ponies was a certain stallion, following his everyday routine:

Roll over once more, try to deny the beginning of a brand new day, give up the fight after only a few minutes, grudgingly get out of bed, stumble across the hall and into the bathroom, give self a quick inspection in the mirror.

{we could do different colors so people would know whos part is whos} {sure, but to do that we need to remember who did what in the first place ;-)}
{Chapter 1, part 2, by Kryxel}
The stallion was not tall by most standards, nor was he anything special like a Pegasus or Unicorn. He was a simple Earth pony, boring tan, with a mane that looked like mud.
His eyes were a vibrant green, so that was an upside.
Now, you may think I am referring to Doctor "Time turner" Whooves, brilliant inventor and adventurer extraordinaire. But sadly, you are mistaken.
This is the story of Mossy Mane. An artist of humble beginnings, and even humbler wages.

{Chapter 1, part 3, by Ray10k}
Finishing his daily morning rituals, Mossy put a kettle of water on the stove and went outside to grab the newspaper. As he waited for the water to boil, he idly flipped through the paper.
Some Newfoals working on a more permanent cloud walking spell, a sale on bread at Sugarcube Corner, rumors and gossip about the Griffins negotiating entry into the conversion program, the usual.
Mossy grinned to himself. It was quite surprising what can become "the usual" in just a few short years.
Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he went over the tasks that had to be completed for the day. He was a little short on hay for his usual dinner, one of his earlier customers wanted a sign repainted, and he had a meeting with a potential client from Canterlot later in the afternoon.
He couldn't help but inwardly groan at that last one, sometimes it felt as if [i]those[/i] ponies had traded in all their common sense for bits, demanding stuff like three-dimensional company logos or expecting him to work for free, "because it would look good in his portfolio."
{so, a little more building the setting. Again, you can make of this what you want, if I didn't outright state otherwise, whatever you come up with is canon for this story.}

Ch1P4

Luckly for the Canterlot people he could paint in 3d. It was part of his special talent after all, as the multi colored sphere with a paint brush impaled through it on his flank showed.
{fix the continuity please.}
The kettle whistled and he quickly stood up and trotted over to the stove.
one thing he could never officially start the day without was a cup of green tea. even back when he was human. some ponies still drank coffee, but he was a tea kind of guy.
He mixed the brew and did a quick budget in his head, if he sold simple caracature paintings on the corner this week he could possibly afford more hay for his pantry.. if not, he had been meaning to trim the grass for a while.
he glanced over to his studio and sipped his tea, mentally preparing himself for the hassle of the day.
{part 5, by Ray}
Quickly running the cup under the tap and drying it off using an old piece of cloth, Mossy finished his humble morning ritual before grabbing a small pouch of bits, a pair of saddlebags and leaving for the market.
----------
While Mossy always thought he rose early, he had yet to wake up earlier than the salesponies at the market and today was no exception. Despite the fact that the sun had come up not even an hour before, the market already was a hive of busy activity with many a salespony offering their wares to whoever was awake at the time.
Mossy couldn’t keep himself from smiling. Even after feeling it a hundred times, the warm sense of community the market always seemed to radiate never failed to make even the hardest of days just that little bit more bearable.
Trotting from stall to stall, Mossy went over his mental shopping list, occasionally stopping to talk to some acquaintance or to buy something.

“Hey there!”
Mossy looked up at the red shape hovering above him, his smile growing larger as he saw his friend hanging over him.

{sorry for the delay on this one.}