As his name rather bluntly assumes, Alato is large. Big boned, broad shouldered and seven foot tall with heavy muscle and fat rounding his frame. A tumbling mane of warm brown hair bounces down past his shoulders and his skin has a healthy golden glow to it, except for his right arm. That bears a creeping and sickly purple tinge that starts at his shoulder and picks out his veins in an ominous black, reaching all the way to his elbow. 

His features are noldo sharp, lined with care, and he has a recognizably proud bearing but his expressions would have often seem kind. However, the gorey criss cross of scars that drag on his right eyelid and claw their way over his face, down his neck and under his collar are often difficult to get past when one first spies him. 

He has a deep and booming voice that draws attention naturally, though his speech tends towards an unflowery and boldly cheerful dialect. And he always gestures widely and happily with his hands when he talks.