*Note: The cloak is made up of fabrics, not hides or skins.
I will present you this from a Loooong time ago.
These are the types of stories that the 'Average Joe Citizen' has heard about VanHelsing:

[i]Some said that Helsing worked with monsters to kill monsters, and might go so far as to claim that he sheltered them under his roof. Others said that Helsing was a monster himself. Others still said that both were true. Only a few believed that he was just human. 'Just humans' didn't hunt big game (as Helsing was famous for doing) and live for more than a few months. A lone human hunter might hope to save a town from a lone Vampire or crazed werewolf, and a group of ten miiiiiight even consider attacking a Vampire coven.

One of the stories had Helsing fighting two covens at once with only a sword and a silver spoon as weapons. Another version held that he had only used the spoon.

Still another held that he had been bitten by a Demon, and after five days of excruciating pain...
The Demon died.

Abe's personal favorite was the story where an Imp had tried to offer Helsing a wish in exchange for a five minute head start. Helsing had accepted and wished the Imp to remain still for six minutes. It was said that the Imp spat profanities at Helsing for five minutes and one second before Helsing cut off its head.[/i]

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Trade? Swindle? Trophy cloak? GRAMPS?
Well... He was old.
Additionally they had just made clear that the were not good tippers. He would not be outright rude... but he would have a fine time making a couple of verbal thrusts. They had earned them.

The whole interaction had been a bit two rude for his liking. He let his smile fade and his tone shift towards serious. "Firstly: I am a Gleeman. An entertainer. I deal in stories, not weapons. Secondly: My cloak is a collection of stories, not trophies. Take this one here." He points at a piece of black fabric that had roses printed closely together. "This is the story of the black hearted baron, whose heart was warmed when he was presented a single rose." He returns his gaze to the two of you. "But I doubt either of you irreverent youths would appreciate such a story. You are looking for VanHelsing."

He sighed expressively. "Alas, allowing others to wallow in such ignorance as you two do would clearly be a disservice to the world at large. I will tell you something of VanHelsing."

Thom cleared his throat and considered what he should share. The girl was obviously a were of some kind, she had that way of walking and observing that was so distinctive. He also doubted that the girl even noticed how she would turn her head occasionally as new sents grabbed her attention. There were definitely benefits to traveling the world for years and years on end, the knowledge you gained let you pick up on subtle stuff like that.
The man... was harder to figure. He also carried himself with the ease of one who had seen many battles, and the eyepach was an indication that something at some point had gone wrong. Not a were though. Yet, based on the rabid dog comment he knew his companion was a werewolf.

"VanHelsing lives many miles from here, in his manor. The house is heavily warded, and depending on the blood that runs through your veins," He glanced at the girl. "You may or may not have a serious problem getting by the fence."

Thom leaned in conspiratorially. "The mad priest tried to bring a boy with an arm infected by a demon through the ward once. The mad priest of course had the boy in a wrought iron cage fastened to his wagon. Two oxen were puling the cart, and they couldn't force the poor boy through the wards. The poor child was being crushed between the ward and the cage he was in. VanHelsing himself had to come out and make a special exception in the ward."

Thom cleared his throat and leaned back again. "But that is a story for another time. The ward won't bother normal humans any, as someone has to be able to reach VanHelsing when something goes wrong. Any questions?"